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Asteroid X-2050 is a Torino Scale 10. This means two things: one, that all known life will perish should the asteroid collide with Earth, and two, that the asteroid will definitely collide with Earth.
NASA announces the asteroid's arrival to be due in 90 days, on January 8, 2050. News outlets begin the countdown to collision, governments worldwide scrambling to handle the mass havoc brought about by impending doom.
It suffices to say that civilization is holding its breath in anticipation of how mankind will save its ass this time.
That doesn't stop Jung Jinsol from reporting to work on the day the world shuts down. She drags her beat-up travel luggage with her laptop and three days’ worth of clothes through the emptied streets of Seoul. The sky is the clearest it's ever been, the autumn sun bright and vibrant. Right beside it (only if Jinsol looks and risks her perfect eyesight) is the burning dot recognized as Asteroid X-2050.
Across the street stands the main building of the Korea Aerospace Research Institute, its pristine white walls and glass windows filling Jinsol's line of sight. The institute just celebrated its 60th anniversary yesterday, October 10 2049, only for the event to be overshadowed by the imminent heat-death of the known world.
If her mom knew that pursuing a career in aerospace robotics had job security in the face of the apocalypse, maybe she would have been less judgmental about it. No matter; her mom was currently letting things blow over at their old house by the East Sea, no doubt reflecting on how she chided Jinsol for her obsession with Gundam.
The glass doors of the institute open to a high ceiling, the entrance hall. From where Jinsol stands she can hear the bustle of activity from each of the eight floors of the building. She pulls her employee badge from her coat pocket, presses it to the scanner by her right. It beeps, a grateful tone, the automatic turnstiles drawing into themselves. There's just enough space for her to pull her travel luggage through, the wheels clacking as asphalt turns into tile, then into the cool metal of the building elevators. She presses the button for the top floor, waits for the doors to close.
Now, what provides some sort of panacea for the chaos of the apocalypse is the most ambitious space project mankind will ever attempt. Asteroid X-2050 is the only threat that had convinced the world to set aside their political differences, representatives from every major space program working together to stop the asteroid.
This conceived the Divert Project: a hyper-focused all-or-nothing effort to send the asteroid off its course for Earth.
Nothing has been decided yet, since it hasn't even been 24 hours since the asteroid flung itself out of the Sun's orbit, a missile speeding towards Earth at 20 kilometers per second. That meant it was traversing a whopping 155.5 million kilometers just to smack mankind in the face. It also meant that mankind had a meaningful 35-65 days to plan anything substantial enough to save themselves.
There's a lot less people in the hall than Jinsol expected. The wheels of her luggage are muted by the plush carpet of the auditorium, the only sound being the voice of Dr. Mark Watanabe at the podium. Dr. Watanabe was a common visitor of KARI, a pleasant man with a deep baritone voice. He’s still calm now, presenting different shots of the asteroid as he explains its qualities and current trajectory.
Jinsol sees Captain Ha Sooyoung at the front row, and fuck the way her heart lurches. Why is she surprised, anyway? Ha Sooyoung works here, an air force captain overqualified for her position as a flight instructor. But it’s only been two minutes of exposure and already Jinsol feels the corrosive anger—
Ah, shit. Jinsol tugs at her turtleneck, loathing the way it constricts her as she takes a seat in the back row, as far as possible. She’s not here to pick a fight.
After parking her luggage by the aisle, she tunes into the current address.
"The council has come up with three propositions for how to push the asteroid off its trajectory." Dr. Watanabe turns to the next slide, a map of the planets and their relative distances from the Sun. "First, build a fortified spaceship that can collide with the asteroid, shifting its trajectory towards the orbit of Venus." The slide is a schematic of the type of ship that can withstand the heat of both the sun and of Venus, and from that alone Jinsol knows it would be a bust.
"Second, form enough nanotech barriers against the asteroid to impede its speed, preventing it from breaching the Earth's atmosphere." Before seeing the calculations Jinsol also knows that it is horribly impractical, and the shoddy numbers on the slide prove it. Space-grade nanotech has only ever been used in controlled environments, too much of a risk for the situation at hand.
"Third, the Kamikaze: launch a spaceship loaded with enough nuclear power to neutralize the threat of collision." The slide changes to a series of calculations which Jinsol deems sound. As much as aerospace engineering and nuclear science has grown over the last decades, there was still the risk of loading too little firepower to make any impact to an asteroid this big, or too heavy a payload for the ship to leave the stratosphere. However the equation is balanced, the mix leaving enough breathing room for adjustments to any unforeseen events.
Dr. Watanabe tilts the mic towards his mouth. "This is the only feasible option for us to undertake in the limited timeframe that we have.
"However, the Kamikaze will require two volunteer space cadets that will undergo rigorous training over a sixty day period to ensure the success of the mission."
The slide switches to a list of prerequisites. Physical fitness, no history of disease in the past year, 20/20 vision. A minimum standing of 95% in a batch of the space cadet program from 2035-2049, subject to consideration.
Dr. Watanabe's face remains impassive, though his hand shakes as he moves the pointer. "As the name of this option implies, they will not be surviving the mission. Their families will be compensated for their valiant sacrifice, and their names will be remembered should they succeed."
Jinsol’s attention is drawn to two women in the row ahead, whispering faintly to each other. One she recognizes: Kim Hyunjin, the valedictorian of the space cadet Batch 2049. Well, anyone would recognize her striking, wide eyes and doll-like face after seeing it plastered on the entrance hall for four months. The woman beside her is shorter with a strong nose and profile, eyebrows furrowed as she speaks under her breath.
Jinsol looks away from their entwined hands beneath the table.
"An email has been sent to all space cadets from the qualified batches, requesting their application to the program. We have given a period of 24 hours for their decision before beginning fielding for our two candidates tomorrow morning."
Sooyoung turns to Jinsol from the front row. A quick glance, cold and probing. Jinsol keeps her sight fixed on the presentation. Sooyoung is astute enough to guess that she's applying for the mission, but who cares?
Truth be told, Jinsol doubts her chances at getting accepted: she was kicked out of Batch 2046, delayed a year before graduating at a pathetic standing of 69%. If anyone would pass the applications it would be 2049 valedictorian Kim Hyunjin, or 2046 valedictorian Ha Sooyoung.
But if Sooyoung had any desire to leave the stratosphere, she would have done so three years ago instead of spending a year in the military and settling for a teaching job right after. Then maybe Sooyoung could have watched the asteroid catch-22 from Mars.
Jinsol swallows the resentment. She still filed her application, despite the odds. And if she was bound to die anyway, she might as well do it among the stars.
The address ends with some announcements for each of the task forces and a slide on schedules and conference room assignments. Jinsol spots the name for the Robotics Task force, assigned to conference room 6B in the sixth floor. If she doesn't get in the program, she'll be working on the internals and software of the spaceship. Around her the other attendees are already standing up, the two women in front of her still exchanging harsh whispers as they pile into the aisle.
Sooyoung is nowhere to be seen. Jinsol takes her travel luggage, wheeling it towards the exit. There's a line which she waits on, and as dumb luck would have it the elevator fills right before she can load it.
"Jung Jinsol!" calls a person behind her. Kim Jungeun of Electronics, also part of the Robotics Task Force. She's pointing to the stairs. "Want to come with?"
"Going to load these off at the dorm downstairs," responds Jinsol just as the elevator opens before her.
She drags her luggage inside, parking herself in front of the button panel. Soon the elevator fills with astronauts, statesmen, other scientists from all over the world. One is a white man tall enough that his head brushes the ceiling of the elevator. Dormitory is down on the fourth floor. A number of hands reach in front of her, pressing buttons for the seventh, sixth, and fifth floor. Lazy assholes even in the face of the apocalypse.
The elevator descends, empties on every floor until Jinsol is the only one left by the time it reaches the dormitory. It opens to a hallway loud with the sound of a squabble.
It's them again, Kim Hyunjin and the woman with the strong nose.
"You're being unfair, Heejin—"
"If you're gonna apply for the mission, then why shouldn’t I—"
"It's different! Your parents still need you—"
"You aren't getting rid of me—"
The woman with the strong nose, Heejin, turns to Jinsol and her awkward travel luggage. Her expression shifts from frustration to subdued anger as she bows in greeting. "Sorry for the noise."
Sheesh. Jinsol gives a polite nod before heading the other way. She finds her assigned room, unlocking it with the code she received in her email. The sound of a new argument bounces along the corridor as she closes the door behind her.
She doesn't stay in the room too long, just enough to fish her laptop out of her luggage. But the two women are gone when she heads out.
Jinsol takes the stairs up. There's still a couple of minutes till the task force briefing, and conditioning will help for the applications tomorrow. It helps with clearing her head, too, the nerves easing from her muscles. Her disposition is much better when she opens the door for conference room 6B.
It's chaos inside. Dr. Martin Kessler from Germany is cursing out the tall white man from the elevator, who from his nametag turns out to be Senator Luca Novak from Slovenia. Trying and failing to insert himself into the discussion is Dr. Son Jisung, the head of KARI's Energy division and one of Jinsol's older mentors. He's struggling, shooting her a pleading look that is too funny not to chuckle at. The two Europeans ignore him entirely. Others present in the room are of different nationalities, some wearing the uniform of the Japan Aerospace Exploration Agency.
Jinsol takes a moment to gather her bearings at the seat beside Jungeun. Her labmate is looking through her phone, reading through what seems to be a blow-by-blow coverage of world events.
"Anything good?" Jinsol asks, craning her neck over Jungeun's shoulder.
"Amazon announced a free 90-day trial of Amazon Prime and called it a deal of a lifetime," says Jungeun, amused. She nods at the angry white men. "They've been at it for ten minutes. It's not even related to the task force—Sen. Novak said something about the Schubligs and Dr. Kessler blew up."
"Should I do the chair drop trick?" Jinsol asks, foot already poised beneath the empty seat to her right.
"Go ahead," says Jungeun, scrolling through her phone. Awfully chill for someone trying to save the world, but aren't they all?
With a practiced ease, Jinsol tips the chair back. It clatters, loud and obtrusive, silencing the room. Both Dr. Kessler and Sen. Novak look at her, then at each other, the tension diffusing as Dr. Kessler nods to Dr. Son.
Dr. Son shoots Jinsol a thankful nod before officially starting the meeting.
There are five different task forces working on the Divert Project:
The Physics Task Force, handling the calculations on the asteroid trajectory and neutralization. The Nuclear Task Force, handling the composition and design of the interstellar warheads. The Engineering Task Force, handling the main architecture and construction of the ship. The Robotics Task Force, Jinsol's home base, handling design of the interior and software of the ship. And the Astronaut Task Force, handling the cadet recruitment and training.
Dr. Son pulls up a deck of proposed schematics, one Jinsol had sent to him via email the night before. All is still arbitrary, focusing on function rather than specifics, and it gets the message across to all the participants of the meeting. They'll need to wait for the final figures from Physics and Nuclear before setting anything in stone.
At the end of the presentation Dr. Son schedules another meeting in two days' time, in sync with the announcement of the Kamikaze Two. He tells Jinsol to stay after the meeting.
Jinsol obliges him, sending Jungeun a wave as the other members of the Robotics Task Force empty the room.
"Great job, Teach," Jinsol greets Dr. Son as he shuts the projector down. "It's pretty put together. Wonder who made the schematics? She must be really talented."
"Jinsol," says Dr. Son. His tone is mellow, disposition kind. "I heard you were applying for the Kamikaze program."
Jinsol deflates. Of course Dr. Son knows; he's one of the evaluators for the program. But she catches how his gaze shifts from fondness to wistfulness.
"I think you would be more than qualified for the job, Jinsol. You were a top cadet, after all." Dr. Son folds his laptop closed, sliding it into a sleeve with care. "It will just be such a shame to lose you. Your mind is one of a kind."
"Brilliant enough to save the planet?" Jinsol offers.
"More than." Dr. Son stretches out a hand to her. "If you get on that ship, I know for certain that you will succeed."
Jinsol takes it, shakes it firmly. "Lots of faith in the dropout of 2046."
"Everyone knew that you were geared for the Mars Mission."
When Jinsol doesn't respond, Dr. Son drops the discussion.
They leave the conference room at the same time, Dr. Son heading to a meeting with the other task force leaders. "I wish you luck, Jinsol," he greets before turning towards the other end of the hallway.
Jinsol watches the steps of her old mentor, lets it take her back to a time in her life where all she ever dreamed of was to see the stars up close. Her right knee throbs with a phantom pain.
She indulges herself for a little longer before heading down the stairs.
The rest of the day goes by faster than Jinsol expects it to: it's routine even as CNN reports civilian upheaval in various countries. The Divert Project is officially online, providing updates in 50 languages to hopeful viewers all over the world. Jinsol hears the cacophony of newscasters from the Robotics lab, where she spends hours studying the latest proposals of the task forces.
Sleep is hard to find the night before the applications. Jinsol doesn't force it; instead she stays up, reading through some journals on her laptop. It helps that Dr. Son requested a last minute simulation to countercheck Physics' preliminary computations.
She ends up finishing at 2 A.M., her normal bedtime if it were a normal day on a non-doomed planet.
Jinsol closes her laptop and sets it on the room's wireless charger platform. The dormitories are lavish in that they have a flatscreen TV per room, accurate thermostat functions, and pristine showers and bathtubs cleaned on a daily basis. After all, this is usually where astronauts spend their last days on Earth. Except they weren’t actually last days unless somebody meets a nightmarish accident on duty.
The night sky is clear, stars bright in the sky. Jinsol stares, tracks the constellations and names them. If she presses her face to the window of the room she can spot Betelgeuse, the armpit of Orion.
Right outside the window is a view of the launch site. It's inconspicuous now, a grass clearing with an asphalt road demarcating it, but the view of a rocket launching into Mars has burned itself into the back of Jinsol's mind.
Her sleep is fitful, right knee cold beneath the duvet.
***
The applications in the morning is a battery of tests designed to weed out incapable and unwilling candidates. The invitation email Jinsol had received has a rundown of the tests prepared, directing her to Conference Hall B in the Space Cadet Training Building.
Dressing in one of the three sets of clothes she had packed from her abandoned apartment (a deep blue tracksuit and her trusty running shoes), Jinsol feels like a million dollars as she leaves her room for the day.
Kim Hyunjin is a whole 1.6 meters of muscle that Jinsol collides with right outside her door. So this is what the asteroid will feel like, sprawled on the carpeted floor as the wide eyes of Mankind's Only Hope stare down at her.
"Sorry," says Hyunjin, voice surprisingly mellow. The apology is written all over her face as she stretches out a hand. Jinsol takes it and Hyunjin pulls her up without effort.
"Are you applying for the program?" Hyunjin looks up and down, no doubt taking Jinsol in. Whether as competition or as a fellow sacrifice is to be decided.
Jinsol stares before she answers. "Yeah, I am. Where's your girlfriend?"
Hyunjin's gaze drops. "She's asleep." The younger woman is surprisingly transparent; her shoulders slump, hands fidgeting with the hem of her uniform. She has her hair tied neatly. "I don't want her to come."
Jinsol lets it sink in. Poor kid. "Let's go together, then."
They walk side by side in the hallway of the dormitory. The air is thick with Hyunjin's guilt, their footsteps scuffing on the carpet. Nobody else joins them, and maybe it's because nobody else is applying for the Kamikaze Two. Jinsol presses the down button of the elevator, sees that Hyunjin is still staring at her feet.
When the elevators close, Jinsol breaks the ice. "Why'd you sign up?"
Hyunjin meets her gaze through the reflection on the elevator doors. "I'm the best fit for the mission." She isn't wrong; 2049 valedictorian and all. But judging from her clenched fists, she’s probably saying it more for herself than for anyone else.
Jinsol is in the mood to be a little cheeky. She lifts her elbow, jabs Hyunjin lightly. "I'll try to save a slot for you at the Kamikaze Two then."
Hyunjin's expression brightens by a fraction.
The elevator stops on the second floor, the assigned dormitory for internationals. Two men and two women enter, nodding in greeting as they take position inside. All four are Japanese nationals, judging by the flags on their space jackets.
Jinsol greets them politely, reminding herself of an elevator attendant until she stares at her own reflection.
She's Jung Jinsol. A million dollars. Brilliant enough to save the planet.
An open-air shuttle takes the six of them and a couple others to the SCT Building five minutes away. The time is half past six in the morning, judging from the color of the sky and the watch of the Norwegian man to her left. Hyunjin sits to her right, observing the landscape.
It had been five years since Jinsol was accepted for the KARI space cadet program. Not much has changed from the surroundings: expanses of green grass around green trees, KARI's different research facilities scattered in the map of her mind.
The bright, naïve Jinsol from then would never have imagined flunking the space cadet program only to sign up for a one-way ticket to the stars.
Why did she sign up? Jinsol believes with all her heart that she's the best fit for the job, in more ways than one. She has the skills. The experience. The lack of earthly tethers that will haunt her as she flies to her death.
Not like she's going to be accepted anyway, with her auspicious standing of 69%. But if she's accepted, then it’s fate.
Jinsol pulls a headband from her tracksuit pocket, combs the bangs away from her face. The air is cool with morning mist, sun still low in the sky. Beside it is the glowing red dot.
The shuttle climbs up a slope towards the SCT building. Jinsol pulls her hair into a ponytail as the shuttle stops by the entrance, and she climbs off.
The sensation is familiar as she walks up to the glass doors of the SCT building. She falls behind Hyunjin on the line to the entrance, scanning her ID on the turnstile.
Hyunjin walks fast, already three meters ahead by the time Jinsol makes it through the turnstiles. She picks up her pace, catching the younger woman at the double doors of Conference Hall B.
Conference Hall B is designed to accommodate the usual class size of 10 space cadet students. There is triple the recommended count filling the hall, the only ten seats already occupied and the surplus standing by the walls. The moderator of the applications hasn't arrived yet, but the tension of the room suffocates like an airlock dry of oxygen. Aside from the four Japanese astronauts who rode the shuttle, Jinsol recognizes celebrity Mark Tuan from Batch 2041 seated between two American cadets.
She takes the spot of wall beside Hyunjin. There are about ten minutes before the official start of the applications, which she spends counting the number of times a person in the room scratches their head.
She gets to seventy-three before the entrance doors of the hall swing open. Heejin, the woman with the strong nose, stands by the doorway with fists clenched, ponytail disheveled and expression fuming.
Yikes. Jinsol can't help but wince as Hyunjin crumples up beside her until the door at the front of the hall draws her attention.
Sooyoung catches her gaze, face impassive.
What fucking luck. Jinsol's hands shake, clenching into fists, rancid bile rising up her throat.
If Sooyoung is surprised, she doesn't show it. She breaks eye contact before addressing the room.
"Welcome to the applications for the Divert Project's Volunteer team," she announces, voice level and smooth like water. "I am Captain Ha Sooyoung, your official moderator for today's tests."
Jinsol should listen. She really should. But the sight of Sooyoung, the sound of her voice, dredges up a black hole that sucks her deep inside. Suddenly she's hiding in a toilet stall, the pain in her knee a faint throb compared to the heavy tearing of her heart—
"Jung Jinsol-ssi?" It takes Hyunjin's hand on her shoulder for her to realize that she's trembling. "Are you okay?"
Jinsol shakes it off, unclenches her teeth. "I'm fine." She inhales, exhales hot air. She should listen. "Did I miss anything important?"
"Same as the email," says Hyunjin. She turns back to the front.
Jinsol follows her line of vision. There's a presentation deck on the screen up front, details on the schedule for the day. A fitness and technical ability test that lasts the duration of the morning, a lunch break, followed by an IQ test, exams on basic and advanced sciences, and an assessment interview. The program for today resembles the space cadet applications, which means she will do just fine.
Now, will she do better than everyone in the room? She’ll see.
Heejin is glowering at her. It's funny because Heejin is half a head shorter than her, round eyes squinting as menacingly as they can. Which is not much.
Whoops. Jinsol focuses on the presentation, blocks Sooyoung's face in her mind's eye. If she has to do this the whole day, so be it.
The projection shifts into a two-column list. "Due to the limited space in our Simulation Hall," says Sooyoung, "we will be dividing the applicants into two batches. Batch A will take the medical evaluation and fitness test first, while Batch B will be tested for their proficiency as astronauts."
Jinsol's name is in Batch B, and so is Heejin's. Jinsol feels the intensity of Heejin's gaze, and so does Hyunjin from the way she sneaks a peek from Jinsol's side.
In the spirit of friendly competition, Jinsol flashes Heejin a smug smile. The effect is immediate: Heejin's face is beet red, eyes wide and eyebrows set. Nothing better to get the blood pumping!
"Batch B," says Sooyoung, gaze cold at Jinsol, "please proceed to the Simulation Hall on the second floor."
Shit. Jinsol catches herself before the anger overwhelms her. Nothing better to get the blood pumping.
The applicants stand from their seats, blocking her vision, but she has seen enough. She follows the crowd outside and upstairs, queueing in front of the Simulation Hall's doors.
The proficiency test is painfully simple for something that can determine the fate of the world. Launch a ship. Check the cabin's oxygen levels. Float in zero gravity as a moderator asks questions from a clipboard. These are things ingrained in Jinsol's muscle memory; after all, she did repeat a year.
The simulation cabin is half a wall of glass, the other half a hodgepodge of different ship compartments: the quarters, the cargo bay, the fuel room and related monitors, one half of the flight deck. Each candidate is in full view of everyone else as they complete different tasks requested by the moderator.
And boy, do they suck. Even the astronauts who have been to space are suddenly incompetent at brushing their teeth in zero gravity! Mark Tuan is also in Batch B, and Jinsol spots the way his fingers shake as he presses the wrong button on the control panel for the third time.
Oh, he's crying.
Jinsol breathes. It makes sense. They're not here because they want to be. She looks at the rest of the candidates, and it sinks in that most of them feel the same way. Sent by their countries just to say that somebody was sent.
Heejin does well, though. She launches the ship without a hitch, does every form of somersault requested by the moderator, even completes the randomized ship tasks in record time. She catches Jinsol's staring, shoots her a smoldering look as she aggressively wrings the water droplets out of her hair.
It's amusing; Jinsol wouldn't mind getting beaten by her.
Her name is called. A staff member leads Jinsol to the holding area, Heejin coming from the other side. Their eyes meet, and Heejin's face falls into a fierce quiet.
"You did better than Mark Tuan," says Jinsol. "Nice work."
Heejin bumps into her shoulder as she walks out the door. Ouch. Muscly shoulders. She's probably still mad that Hyunjin didn't wake her up.
No biggie. Jinsol steps into the cabin. It's bigger from the inside, the glass dome to her right making her feel a lot like a fish in a bowl. All eyes are on her, including those of the moderator standing close to the wall.
A speaker overhead crackles to life. "Jung Jinsol. We will start with the launch simulation, kindly proceed to the flight deck."
Jinsol raises a thumb to the moderator, then heads to the flight deck portion of the cabin. It's been two years since she sat in the pilot seat, but her hands know the drill, feel their way through the controls. The screen in front of her flickers to life, presenting the view of a simulated sky.
She listens for instructions. In the history module of the space cadet program, she had learned that the last thirty years had seen leaps and bounds in Aeronautics, brought about by advances in the harnessing of nuclear energy. It made it possible to simulate gravity on the ship at intervals, made the construction of spacecraft robust enough to withstand tougher missions and longer journeys.
Launching a ship into space is the easiest it's ever been, Jinsol pressing the buttons in the proper sequence as the moderator gives the signal. She pulls the thruster, feels the shaking of the simulation cabin through her legs and back.
"Launching success," says the moderator, "we will be commencing the zero gravity portion of the test." Instantly, Jinsol senses the shift in her balance, the feeling of blood rushing from her legs to her head.
Oh sweet, sweet zero gravity. Jinsol definitely doesn't miss this. She unbuckles herself from the seat, pulling herself towards the center of the cabin. Back in the day, astronauts used aircrafts to simulate the sensation of zero gravity, but it became moot when Dr. Son figured out the physics behind it. Jinsol knows the science, but it doesn't stop the sudden nausea that rises from her stomach.
Nope, no puking on the simulation. Jinsol's fingertips find purchase on the ceiling and she stops her movement. It's easier than she remembers, even with the lack of practice. She pushes gently, uses her arms and legs to swivel her body towards the moderator.
Drills. The moderator instructs her through a series of twists, has her navigate the cabin from top to bottom, left to right, forward and back. Her ears feel bloated, the vein by her jaw throbbing as she rotates herself forward. It's so easy to lose her bearings but she keeps track by keeping her sight on the flight deck, the way Sooyoung taught her to back when they were cadets.
Jinsol grits her teeth. She can't get distracted.
The moderator quizzes her as she floats. Where are the emergency oxygen masks in the event of a gas leak? How often should an astronaut check the radiation monitor given a specific nuclear load? What is the proper way to open the water hose?
Jinsol answers her as she navigates the cabin. The masks are by the airlock, an astronaut should visit the radiation monitor every two hours regardless of nuclear load, there are three valves to the water hose to ensure resource conservation.
After a quick randomization of tasks the moderator then directs her to convert half a liter of urine into drinkable water. It's one of the less glamorous facts of astronaut life, though necessary. Jinsol tries not to think too much of how the urine sample was obtained.
Once Jinsol successfully processes the urine, pouring it into the water repository, the moderator announces the end of the simulation. Jinsol pulls herself to the ground as the Zero-G shuts off and everything is heavy again, bones and muscles straining at the sudden resumption of her weight. She catches her balance on the fake garbage chute, rides out the sensation of blood pumping back where it should.
Part one down. Jinsol wobbles as she leaves the holding room, takes a seat beside Heejin as the next candidate prepares to launch the ship.
To her surprise, Heejin speaks up. "What batch are you?" Her voice is deeper than expected, jarring whatever was in Jinsol’s mental catalog.
She blinks. "2047."
Heejin's fists clench where they rest on her knees. "You're pretty good. But I'm the one getting on that ship." Her face is softer, less angry, less sure of herself.
Poor kid. "Girlfriends in space, huh." Jinsol watches as the candidate, a South Asian, botches the series of buttons for the flight. She's sure it's on purpose.
They're quiet for the rest of the simulation, and at the end of it the moderator tells them to head straight to Training Room B on the first floor. The walk down the stairs is eerily solemn, like prisoners on death row. It's probably what most of the candidates feel, their feet dragging on the marble tiles of the building floor.
Batch A meets them halfway. They're all sweaty, shoulders sagging as they exit the training doors. Hyunjin is at the front of the crowd, but her gaze is glued to her feet as she avoids Heejin's pointed glare.
Yikes. They pass each other by, Heejin's shoulders sagging by a fraction as Hyunjin leaves her line of sight.
Maybe neither of them should get on this mission.
Training Room B is set up for the fitness leg of the tests, personnel from the medical bay present both to run physical diagnostics and to evaluate strength and endurance on specialized stress test machines.
Captain Ha Sooyoung is standing in the middle of the room, a clipboard in her hand.
It's zero gravity all over again, veins throbbing and legs unsteady and fuck. It's been three years. Jinsol has to stop getting so riled up.
Sooyoung addresses the crowd, but her gaze roots Jinsol to the floor. "Welcome to the fitness leg of the applications. There will be three segments to this portion: pre-stress diagnostics, stress tests for upper and lower body, and post-stress diagnostics."
The captain calls each of the fifteen candidates by name, directing each one to a medical bay station. "Jeon Heejin," she says, pointing to the station nearest the door.
"Jung Jinsol." The fit of her name in Sooyoung's mouth is almost sickening. Jinsol inhales sharply, blocks out Sooyoung's face in her mind as she walks towards the assigned medical bay. A moderator there receives her, positions her on the monitoring platform.
Jinsol has done the physical diagnostics enough times, thanks to her extended time as a cadet and her monthly monitoring as a staff of the Robotics unit. But there’s still a small itch of concern when the preliminary scanner beeps over her right knee. She preempts the moderator’s question with her go-to explanation. “Had an ACL arthroscopy in April 2046.”
The moderator checks the records in their tablet to verify Jinsol’s medical clearance before proceeding.
Heart rate fine, eyesight perfect, lungs clear. Aside from the early hitch the medical exam proceeds without issue, the moderator then directing her to the stress tests. It’s two sets of continuous muscle exertion, a set consisting of fifteen minutes each for upper and lower body with a five minute break in between.
The stress test machines are cool in theory, designed to test the limits of her upper body without ripping it in two. She takes the seat of the machine, straps her legs into their slots on either side. It's a lot like rowing a boat, but the stress test machines use energy pulses to stimulate and analyze the performance of her arm and torso muscles with each set of exercises.
Because it's so effective at what it does, people who use the machine tend to leave behind a lot of residue, which Jinsol thinks she feels on the metal handlebars as she pulls them from their slot. But the grimy feeling is probably her imagination; cleaning is part of the protocol.
The lower body stress test worries her more than it should. It doesn't help that Sooyoung is here, boring holes into the back of Jinsol's head. She doesn't have to look to know, and the knowledge curdles like spoiled milk in her stomach. She'll cross the bridge when she gets there, and she sure as hell will cross it with flying colors.
The machine’s signal rings. Jinsol rows, pulling and pushing, handlebars clunking with every turn of the mechanism. It burns her triceps, stretches her obliques. She feels the tingling up her back, across her shoulders, deltoids pulsing with the effort. Fifty second reps end with a beep, a ten second break before the next set. Just enough to catch her breath. Ten sets.
The signal rings. Jinsol sneaks one last pull as the machine powers down, and she doesn't even get to see the statistics before the moderator pulls the straps off her legs and ushers her to the lower body station. Her arms and torso are warm and wide awake now, heart rate faster.
Jinsol takes extra care as she rolls her right pant leg up, three dot-scars from her surgery staring as she attaches the different nodes to the muscles of her shin and knee. Her foot is secure on the pedal of the bike-like machine, but she hadn’t pushed her right leg more than necessary even during her final year as a cadet. She does the same for the left leg, then locks the belts around her waist and shoulders. She grips the handlebars on either side of the seat, breathes in and out.
Jinsol feels it again, Sooyoung's gaze boring holes into her skull. The knowledge riles her up more than it should. It's fine, though, because Jinsol will swallow down the trepidation that climbs up her throat and perform above everyone's expectations.
She's not going to fail in front of her again.
The signal starts. Jinsol pedals. She keeps her torso in place as she pushes on the pedals, machine whirring with each cycle of her legs. After the first three sets she feels it, a slight throb on her right knee, but it doesn't stop her.
Jinsol grits her teeth. Nothing will stop her. Her heart is pumping, calves and thighs tingling with an electric current. She grips the handles tighter, forces the extra push, until all that's in her mind is a whirlwind of indignation.
The signal rings. Jinsol lurches with the sudden stop, unbuckles all the belts and yanks the nodes off her sore legs. She stands on both feet, turns to see the look on Sooyoung's face, to prove that she isn't broken anymore.
But Sooyoung isn't there.
The whole room is staring at Jinsol, because she stood up with fists clenched, two seconds away from screaming.
She shrinks down, a blush heating up her cheeks, attention suddenly transfixed by her trusty running shoes. Was the brand always Adidas? She never knew.
Argh! Jinsol tugs her ponytail loose, shakes the sweat out of her hair. It's 2049. Why is Sooyoung still at the forefront of her mind? This is exactly why she joined the Robotics lab, as far away from the training building as she can get.
She ties her hair haphazardly, adjusts her headband. She's not the pathetic, naïve Jinsol from the past. She's not the Jinsol who once loved the stars.
Who is she? The Jinsol who will ace this test.
The second set passes in a whirl, the breaks in between feeling shorter and shorter the more fatigued Jinsol's body grew. In the seconds between reps she catches glimpses of the rest of the candidates. Each observation cements her hypothesis that most of the candidates were sent here to fill a body count, the foreign candidates slowing their paces to a halt at any given opportunity. Mark Tuan is nowhere to be seen. Aside from Jinsol, none of the candidates seem to give a damn if they do well or not.
Except Heejin. Heejin is on the lower body stress test, cycling like the end of the world is at hand. Which is accurate.
At the end of the exercise she's so spent that she barely registers the post-test diagnostics. Her right knee is sore, but that's the worst of it, which is better than expected.
Heejin looks just as tired, and so do the other candidates. As soon as they finish they’re sent out for lunch, to return to Conference Hall A for the next phase of applications.
The group disperses. Jinsol catches a shuttle back to the main building for a quick shower and lunch. The next set of tests should be easy; IQ has always been Jinsol's forte, and her background in both Physics and Robotics gives her an edge in the advanced sciences.
After a painfully cold shower to soothe her aching muscles, she grabs a sandwich from the vending machine on the fifth floor. Money is no object in the apocalypse, and KARI gives free vending machine sandwiches to every employee with more than six months of service. Never mind that two out of the three vending machine sandwiches she chooses are expired. The one good one she munches on while drying her hair in the open-air shuttle to the SCT.
She arrives five minutes early, with the other candidates already seated inside Conference Hall A. Heejin and Hyunjin sit on opposite corners of the room, and Mark Tuan is still nowhere to be seen.
Jinsol takes a seat up front.
The test proctor arrives on the dot. He checks attendance before handing each of them a test tablet.
First up is the IQ test, which Jinsol breezes through. Math? Counted. Abstract reasoning? Concretized. Reading? Comprehended.
She finishes twenty minutes ahead of the allotted period. With nothing to do she alternates between watching her test proctor and staring at the wall. Pareidolia means that sometimes Jinsol sees faces in the paint of the wall even when she shouldn't, but she swears someone drew Dr. Son on the podium by the side of the hall.
The basic and advanced sciences are a little more challenging than Jinsol expected. Some of these questions are so painfully basic that they require a dredging up of information from early college days, while others are concepts she uses on her highly specialized Robotics research.
That radiation and matter have properties both of particles and of waves is called what? Wave Particle Duality. What two measurable properties of a particle cannot be observed simultaneously? Position and momentum. Describe a general template for a Prolog predicate that counts with an accumulator? Jinsol types out the code line by line, bracket by bracket. She's 100% sure she's the only one in the room who can answer this question.
Describe Photosynthesis. It's an endothermic reaction, Sol. First, sunlight is converted into ATP and NADPH. Then ATP and NADPH are used to convert the carbon dioxide into sugar and oxygen —
Jinsol reels back momentarily. Sooyoung's voice in her head was so clear, so—
She can't get carried away.
The biochemistry section of the test is a slew of questions that remind her too much of wan window light and late dormitory nights. Jinsol rips through them like band-aids, doesn't look back even if she knows that nitrogen isn’t a flammable gas. She doesn't care. She doesn't care.
She turns in the exam thirty minutes early. The proctor raises his eyebrows, then directs her to the consultation room by the front for the assessment interview.
There's already a panel of judges situated, four men and two women, though they're just as surprised to see Jinsol. The last judge directs her to the chair in front of their long table.
It's the space cadet interview all over again.
"State your name, age, and educational background," says the first judge.
Jinsol clears her throat. "Jung Jinsol, 29, bachelor in Physics and double postgraduate in Physics and Robotics. Space cadet Batch 2047."
The first judge nods, though his eyebrows raise at what is probably Jinsol's space cadet grade. She holds back a snort.
The second judge leans forward, clasping her hands together. "Why are you applying for the Divert Project?" It's an equivalent question to "Why do you want to go to outer space?", but it carries a depth of finality that sits on the judge's set eyebrows.
"Honestly?" Jinsol leans back on her chair. "It's because I can. It’s safe to say that I’m the only candidate with an extensive background in aerospace Robotics, and prior to my accident and forced drop out of cadet Batch 2046, I had the highest GPA in decades. Even after the accident I graduated on the upper half of Batch 2047, which speaks of my determination and mental fortitude, something you’ll be hard-pressed to find in the other candidates. So I’m a handy Swiss army knife, with enough skill and dedication to crash a ship into an asteroid."
The judges wait for her to continue, but she doesn't. They look among themselves, before the second judge nods an acceptance of her answer.
Jinsol is given question after question, ranging from topics such as prior experience with vehicles to her resolution of work and peer conflicts.
It proceeds as a typical work-job interview until the last judge gets to the final question.
"What final quote would you like to be memorialized with should you succeed in diverting the asteroid?"
It snaps Jinsol into focus. She's signing up for a one-way ticket to the stars after all. The smug smile spreads on her face as she answers. "Fuck you, asteroid."
The judges, surprisingly, give her an approving nod. They dismiss her as the next candidate enters the room.
Hyunjin. Jinsol shoots her an offhanded wave, leaving out the back door.
Jinsol spends the rest of the day in a state of limbo. She grabs a prepackaged bento box from the cafeteria and brings it up to her room, plugs her laptop into the flatscreen TV. Nothing drowns out the fear of the uncertain the way a good movie binge can.
Dr. Son calls at one in the morning. The vibrating phone catches Jinsol off guard, makes her fall off the small desk chair of the dorm room. She pulls herself back up on the chair before answering the call.
"Hello, Jinsol," goes the calm voice of Dr. Son, "were you busy?"
Jinsol folds her laptop shut. Dr. Son doesn't have to know that she was watching a sappy romance film in the middle of the night. "What if I were asleep, Teach?"
Dr. Son chuckles. "You are always up until 2 A.M.. I would know." Jinsol listens to the way he pauses, hums. It's a pensive one. "Would you like to know your ranking for the applications?"
Curiosity burns in her chest out of nowhere. "Sure, Teach. Just don't get in trouble for it."
"You ranked top five in the fitness exam. Rank three in the technical skills exam. Rank two in the aptitude and basic sciences. But the decision for the Kamikaze Two does not solely rest on your rank, Jinsol, which is why I am calling you today."
Jinsol swallows. Dr. Son tends to ask questions that hold the weight of the universe in them, altering the trajectory of her life. There's a tingling in her skin, a hunch that things will never be the same after this call. "Yeah?"
Dr. Son begins with a hum. "I need to know. Is there anyone or anything in this world that you cannot leave behind? Any decision you made that you will regret, that will interfere with mission fitness when you go to space?"
Jinsol breathes. Lets the question sink into her skin, muscles, bones. Once upon a time, all her effort was poured into her desire to see the stars up close. But someone had dethroned the stars from their place in her heart, leaving her empty.
There's not much left for her on Earth.
"No, Teach." Jinsol speaks with certainty. "No regrets for me."
***
Jinsol learns the next day that she made it to the roster of the Kamikaze Two.
She's hunched over some LEGO blocks in the Robotics lab, discussing with Jungeun the merits and faults of a pizza delivery bot made from LEGO Mindstorm scraps, when Captain Ha Sooyoung barges in.
It’s unexpected. Sooyoung's posture is rigid in her military fatigues, shoulder-length hair tied at the base of her neck. Expression cold, distanced. "You have a death wish."
It clicks, because there's no other reason for Sooyoung to be in the Robotics lab, looking straight at Jinsol. Irritation surges from a hollow in her chest. "Since when did you care, captain?"
Something flickers across the captain’s face, too fleeting to recognize. She leaves, lets the door slam behind her.
Jinsol is reeling from the sudden spike in blood pressure. She falls on her ass, right knee buckling from the tension. Had the Robotics lab floor always been so cold and hard?
"What the fuck was that?" Jungeun is crouching beside her, prodding her shoulder. "Who was she, and why do you have a stick up your ass?"
There’s only one conclusion. "I think I made it to the Kamikaze Two." Jinsol grunts as she grips the edge of the table, pulling herself up. "Do you think it's up on the bulletin board?"
Jungeun's voice rises. "You applied?"
"I just have to go check," responds Jinsol. She rushes out the Robotics lab, takes the stairs down as fast as she can to the bulletin board on the first floor.
The ranking. Jinsol's hands grow cold as she reads what's on the ceiling-tall LED panel.
1. Jung Jinsol. Score 92/100
There it is. Jinsol's name etched on a tombstone. Her lungs tighten for a fraction as she reads it again.
No delaying the inevitable. She forces a breath, reading the rest of the names.
1. Kim Hyunjin. Score 95/100
3. Jeon Heejin. Score 91/100
4. Masashi Yuta. Score 81/100
The rest of the names and scores trail like dust below the top three, averaging at a measly 58. The understanding sinks in.
Jinsol's phone buzzes in her jacket pocket. She takes it out, answers the call from Dr. Son.
"Jinsol," says Dr. Son, "congratulations." It sounds too much like a eulogy.
Jinsol chuckles. "I'm not dead yet, Teach. But thanks. I saw it on the bulletin just now."
"I am sure you noticed," says Dr. Son, "but only three of the candidates are truly viable for the mission."
"And willing, from the looks of it." Jinsol stretches her shoulder muscles, the conversation grounding her. "It's both overwhelming and anticlimactic. Is that how it's supposed to feel?"
"I will never know." Dr. Son hums. "Check your email and come to the sixth floor for your orientation."
The call ends. Jinsol stares at her phone. The more she stares at it, the less it looks like a phone and more like a black screen of infinite darkness.
Ah, the dread of human finitude.
It crashes into her. What about the new Gundam model set to come out in the spring of 2050? The ending of the Netflix series that was put on hold? Oh shit, how is she going to tell her mom?
Jinsol slaps her cheek. If she's going to think about all these things now, she should have done so before sending in her application.
She steels herself, makes her way to the elevator as she browses for the email. She presses the button for the sixth floor, presses the mail icon on the notification bar of her phone.
Subject: Divert Project Orientation
Dear Jung Jinsol, ID 2046-07-05
You have been chosen as one of the two representatives for the Divert Project's Kamikaze mission. On behalf of humanity, we offer our deepest gratitude to you.
Kindly proceed to conference room 6B for the orientation and contract signing.
The elevator stops on the fourth floor, opens. Heejin enters, eyes bloodshot and nose runny. She's gripping a box of tissues, looking like she's a second away from bashing it on Jinsol's head.
Jinsol makes sure to step aside, letting her in. It's probably not a good time to make any jokes. As the elevator closes Heejin takes a deep breath, then blows her nose hard.
"You'll blow your brains out," says Jinsol.
"I'd like that, really," says Heejin, a wet chuckle escaping her.
Jinsol fidgets with her phone. What's the proper response to that? Her brain is turning up empty.
She's saved by their arrival to the 6th floor. Heejin walks ahead, Jinsol following her to conference room B.
The room is quiet, all eyes on Jinsol as she enters. She sees Dr. Son and the heads of the other task forces, even Dr. Watanabe seated nearest the front. There are some other researchers and personnel in military gear situated around the room, watching their every move.
At the front is Sooyoung, expression calm and composed. Jinsol takes the impact of her presence, breathes through it. Pushes down the simmering resentment. There's no point in being angry if Jinsol is leaving, anyway.
"Welcome, Jinsol." Dr. Son is the first to greet her from the front of the room, eyes kind and voice mellow. It calms her down, somewhat.
Hyunjin is here too. She's sitting in the nearest chair, back straight, eyes glued to the blank presentation screen. She startles when Heejin tosses her box of tissues on the table, but doesn't even look when her girlfriend scrapes the chair a seat away, drops herself into it.
Jinsol isn't sure if she should feel awkward, angry, or sad. She takes the chair in between the two lovebirds, looks towards the presentation without looking at Sooyoung. Which is hard, because Sooyoung is right in front, setting up the presentation. Why is she here, anyway? Doesn’t she have some cadets to teach or something?
Dr. Watanabe stands. "Congratulations, Kim Hyunjin and Jung Jinsol," he says, the deep baritone resonating in the quiet room. "Humanity will remember the sacrifice you have prepared to make, and we will ensure that it does not go to waste. Thank you as well, Jeon Heejin, though your main role here would be to serve as a backup should anything untoward happen to our main volunteers."
Heejin plucks a tissue out of the box. Jinsol tries to give her privacy.
Sooyoung cuts in. "Thank you, Dr. Watanabe." She nods at one of the military personnel, who walks towards Hyunjin with a basket of papers in his hands. There's a clear distance in her intonation as she addresses them.
"I am Captain Ha Sooyoung, the Astronaut Task Force’s flight instructor and your official supervisor for this mission. Before we begin the orientation, we require you to sign the terms of agreement. Including Jeon Heejin, you will be placed under heavy regulation in preparation for the mission. Read through the contract carefully before you sign."
She fixes her gaze on Jinsol, neck tensing as she tilts her head slightly up. "This is your final opportunity to back out without facing any repercussions."
Oh, that statement is a fucking challenge. Well, challenge fucking accepted. Jinsol doesn't break eye contact as she takes the ballpen and the contract from a guard, flipping to the last page to affix her signature.
Hyunjin blocks the paper with her hand. Before Jinsol can turn to her and cuss her out, Hyunjin pats the paper with her pointer finger. "That's the annex."
Oof. Jinsol flips the contract back to the first page, ears burning with shame. A quick evaluation of her emotions tells her that, once again, Sooyoung is vexing her. Profusely. Inordinately. Fuck.
She reads. The contract itself is only one page, a basic outline of the terms of agreement between her and the Divert Project. It officially starts on Monday, October 18, detailing a 60-day training period before the targeted launch on December 17.
As a volunteer, Jinsol has two clauses: Follow the terms and conditions as listed in the annex, and accomplish the successful diversion of Asteroid X-2050.
The Divert Project is required to provide for all needed expenses in training her, and upon mission completion, shall provide her next-of-kin with an annual pension of ₩1 Billion until deceased. There will be no liability on the Divert Project for Jinsol's death, should it happen prior to mission completion.
And if Jinsol breaches the contract, she is guaranteed lifetime imprisonment and a fine of ₩100 Billion. Which isn't that bad, because the world will probably end before she can be faced in trial.
The annex is a lot thicker. Jinsol shuffles through the pages, gleaning information on meal plans, health requirements, itineraries for Technical Skills training. Something she can study closely later on. For now, she's seen enough.
Jinsol affixes her signature on the front page. The guard takes her stack of papers, together with Hyunjin's and Heejin's, before returning to the side of the room.
"We will be sending you electronic copies of the contract for your safekeeping," says Sooyoung, eyes not on Jinsol for once. She places her laptop on the presentation panel, the orientation slides showing up on the screen.
"The 60-day training period begins next Monday, October 18." Sooyoung enunciates her words with a serrated edge. "We request that you put your affairs into order before the start of the program, as for your safety we will restrict you to KARI's premises for the duration of the mission."
Sooyoung presses a button on the laptop, presenting a seven-day week matrix. "This is a copy of your schedule for the duration of the training, also included in the annex."
Exercise every day at 7A.M.. There are hours blocked for physical conditioning on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, with Tuesdays and Thursdays reserved for Technical Skills training. There's medical and skills evaluations on Saturdays, and Sundays are free of schedule.
Before Jinsol can map out the details, Sooyoung turns to the next slide.
Jinsol scowls. Sooyoung sees her, jaw clenching so slightly that nobody else would have noticed.
The captain continues. "Beginning Monday, the three of you will reside in the Faculty Quarters building. You will be provided uniforms, basic necessities, and other amenities within reason.
"You are expected to check in at KARI by this Sunday 6 P.M.." Sooyoung's hand hovers over her laptop, moving the deck to a blank slide. "This is the end of the presentation. If you have no more questions, you are officially dismissed."
There's a chorus of chairs scraping from their seats as the different researchers and personnel crowd Jinsol's side of the table. Someone pulls her hand and shakes it, thanking her profusely for her valiant sacrifice. Another pats her on the back, offers to take her out for drinks. Only once in a lifetime do they ever get to party with the future heroes of the world, after all! It’s cramped; Jinsol squirms, eyes darting between the bodies as she finds the easiest exit.
"Jinsol," calls Dr. Son from behind her.
It clears the crowd, giving Jinsol room to approach him. Ever reliable Dr. Son.
She grins at her mentor. "Need me for anything, Teach?"
Dr. Son mirrors her smile. "Thought you could use a hand with your new admirers." His voice curls in rare amusement at the last word. "Do you have plans for setting your affairs in order?"
Jinsol scratches the back of her head. "I might, but I'll think about it tonight.” From her periphery she sees Hyunjin cornered by some wide-eyed researchers, bombarding her soon-to-be partner with questions. "Do you think you can call my Kamikaze partner over there? She looks like she could also use a hand."
Dr. Son obliges her, calling Hyunjin to their conversation. She heads to them, the rest of the crowd dispersing now that they had nobody to fixate on.
Hyunjin bows to the both of them, turning to Dr. Son. "Did you need me, Professor Son?"
Dr. Son nods. "I wish to thank you on behalf of the rest of humanity." He gestures towards Jinsol. "I also wanted to tell you that your partner for the mission is one of my brightest researchers. You are in good hands."
Hyunjin nods solemnly.
They are the last to leave the conference room, Dr. Son heading to a new meeting on the eighth floor.
Hyunjin trails behind Jinsol as she heads to the stairs. She's awfully quiet, eyes fixed to her shoes.
They're going to be partners in space. They should be friends before then. Jinsol turns to Hyunjin, slowing her pace down as they walk side by side. "So, thoughts on me as a partner? Bet you didn't expect it."
Hyunjin purses her lips. "It's not Heejin, so I'm happy." There's a heaviness in her shoulders that she bears so openly, a softness in her voice when she repeats Heejin's name. "Heejin, she shouldn't sacrifice herself on this sort of mission."
Jinsol stops herself from asking why Hyunjin didn't feel the same way about herself. "She's still part of it. If either of us get sick, she's going to have to replace us."
"We won't get sick," Hyunjin says simply.
They separate at the hallways of their temporary dormitory, Jinsol shooting Hyunjin a "see you on Monday" as she enters her room. She pulls open her laptop, mapping out her plan of action for her last four days of freedom.
Where to begin?
Jinsol files her resignation from the Robotics lab with a hastily typed letter, and she shoots Jungeun a proposition to eat pizza with the second coolest person on the planet. Jungeun is at her dormitory room in the evening with a box of pizza rolling through the doorway, hoisted by a crudely done Lego droid.
"You can have my apartment," says Jinsol as she sits on the floor, munching on a pizza slice. "If you're free tomorrow morning, you can come with me as I pack all my stuff—"
"You know I had a massive crush on you, right?" Jungeun has her legs crossed, a greasy slice of pizza in her own hand. "Why are you giving me all your shit?"
Jinsol smiles, cheeky. Jungeun is blunt and straightforward, a breath of fresh air. "I also know that you'd really like an apartment of your own, once the whole Asteroid X-2050 situation is over. Think of it as thanks for dealing with me for the past year."
Jungeun takes a bite of her pizza, eyes staring off in the distance. "I'm sure Dr. Son won't mind if I come to work after lunch."
"Great. You can have my whole Gundam collection—"
"Fuck no." Jungeun's face contorts in amusement. "That's going in the garbage and you know it."
Laughter bubbles in Jinsol's chest. "Was worth a shot." She places the pizza on the box cover, wiping her hands on the cardboard. "You're one of my closest friends, Jungeun. It's been great working with you."
Jungeun shrugs her shoulders. "You never told me you were a space cadet."
Jinsol winces. "It doesn't really come up. Considering you just joined the lab last year. Nobody really knows about it outside of Dr. Son and the other faculty members." She slaps a hand to her cheek, diffusing the guilt. "I was held back a year, believe it or not."
Jungeun takes another bite of her pizza, waiting for Jinsol to continue.
Jinsol's hand climbs from her cheek to the base of her skull. "I got in an accident in my second year. Torn ACL. Pretty bad. Got worse because I was a doofus who tried to complete the program in spite of it."
With Jungeun still staring at her, Jinsol rambles. "I did graduate though, a year after. But my grades weren't good enough for any specialized program, and I was still nursing the aftereffects of the injury. Luckily Dr. Son took me in the Robotics lab, so I still got to work in KARI."
Jungeun takes the last bite of her pizza. "You could still fly some other time, if you really wanted to. Why the death mission?" She's reaching for a second slice of pizza, watching Jinsol with curiosity.
"It's more because I can, rather than want to." Jinsol shrugs, reaching for her pizza again. It feels a lot like the applications. "I know that I'm not going to freak out once I get there, that I'll be able to fulfill the mission. And I don't have much to lose, so I'd rather it be me than someone who's leaving dependents behind."
Jungeun nods, wiping her fingers on a piece of tissue.
Thursday morning is for cleaning out Jinsol's apartment. Jungeun meets her at the entrance of the KARI's main building, Jinsol dragging her luggage. She leads the way out.
They walk to the apartment. There's more people around now, more vehicles than three days prior when the asteroid was announced. It seems like the Divert Project had done some work to quell the civilian unrest, some shops once again opening for business. A line of schoolchildren cross the street in front of her apartment, bright smiles on all their faces. No fear of the future, because someone else is sacrificing hers.
It makes Jinsol a little sentimental.
"It's not that far a walk from the KARI, eh?" Jinsol slips her shoes off at the entrance of her apartment, letting Jungeun in. "Now, let me show you the full glory of my Gundam collection—"
Jungeun wordlessly raises her trash bag. Jinsol cackles at the point made.
The apartment had been her home for a little more than two years, right after she moved out of the KARI cadet dorms as a fresh graduate. Since then she had filled it up with all sorts of knick knacks that they will now be clearing out.
"You weren't kidding," says Jungeun, placing each of the Gundam models in the trash bag with little care. Aside from the decked out Gundam cabinet, her walls are spruced up by vinyl posters of spaceship schematics, a Doraemon quilt covering her bed. "How did you ever get laid?"
Jinsol's ears heat up. "If I told you that I never did, will you laugh?"
Jungeun snorts. "Damn. I thought you were the type to date around. Outgoing, talkative—"
She spots Jinsol degrees from combusting on the spot, shoots her a grin before dropping the conversation.
Jinsol heads to the kitchen to clean up. The truth is, she never really tried. Before her stint as a space cadet failure, she pursued the stars with a one-track mind that had no room for much else, much less a romance. After Sooyoung—
Jinsol stops herself. Backtracks. She opens the pantry door of her small kitchen, scooping instant noodles and cereal boxes into a clean garbage bag.
After her accident, Jinsol hadn't felt the need to find love. She cringes, her old oven toaster still crusty from the one time she burned a piece of bread. That goes in the real garbage.
They finish in time for lunch. Jungeun helps Jinsol bring down the garbage bags (and what is probably three paychecks' worth of Gundam), and they return to her now bare room. What's left is three days' worth of groceries, toiletries, and Jinsol's bed. The clothes she plans to keep are laid out in her travel luggage, and so is the Doraemon quilt she won't let go of just yet.
"What's your plan for your last free weekend?" Jungeun asks as Jinsol slips off her shoes at the landing of her apartment.
First things first, Jinsol has to tell her mom that she volunteered to crash a spaceship into an asteroid careening towards the Earth. After that, cancel all her app subscriptions, then write a last will and testament passing all her belongings to her mom.
It goes poorly. Jinsol gets in a screaming match with her mom that she doesn't even remember the bulk of, because her mom can't seem to grasp how Jinsol can't come back from outer space after setting off a ship loaded with tons of nuclear warheads. It frustrates her, because this isn't how she wants to spend her last conversation with her mom, ever.
She should have done the app subscriptions first.
Jinsol spends the last three days of her freedom personifying a dumpster fire. It turns out that she can fit the whole of Naruto and Naruto Shippuden in three days, given that she plays each episode at three times the speed and only takes four hours of sleep. It's more an exercise in futility than anything, because Jinsol cannot leave the stratosphere without at least finishing the anime of the century.
"You look like shit, Jinsol," says Jungeun as she enters the apartment almost exactly 77 hours after she left. "You also reek."
Jinsol is in the exact same set of pajamas she wore on her first night in her apartment, eyes glazing over as she pries them from the laptop screen. Right after Naruto she had moved onto the Nicholas Sparks movies of the early 2000s. "I had to finish Naruto, Jungeun."
Jungeun's look is a mix of pity and amusement. "Take a shower. Don't want you stinking up my apartment."
After her final shower outside of KARI, Jinsol says goodbye to her old apartment. It's been a good two years subsisting on a diet of cereal and convenience store food, and that's probably going to show up on the health checkups tomorrow. Jinsol drags her travel luggage out the apartment, meeting Jungeun by the roadside.
They walk in silence to KARI. The sun is shining bright for a fall afternoon, the red dot beside it looming closer to Earth than ever.
This is how Jinsol celebrates the end of her normal life, Jungeun dropping her off at the waiting area for the shuttles to the SCT.
"I’ll be around," says Jungeun, waving Jinsol's apartment keys before heading back inside the main building.
Too drained to reply with anything funny, Jinsol settles with a close-lipped smile and a tiny wave as Jungeun disappears through the automatic doors. A heavy sigh escapes her; she really burned up her last free weekend by bingeing Naruto and getting in a fight with her mom. It’s not like she had much else to do, though; everyone is busy with the end of the world.
"Did you have a rough weekend?"
It's Hyunjin, also in the queue to the shuttle. Her hair is a mess, dark circles around her eyes. A travel backpack is balanced on the insoles of her shoes, stuffed to the brim with what seems to be a cat plushie. Seems like she's speaking from her own experience.
Jinsol tests it out. "I finished Naruto and Naruto Shippuden in one sitting."
Hyunjin snorts, genuine surprise in her eyes. "I spent all my pocket money at the arcade."
The comment makes Jinsol laugh.
The ride to the SCT is quiet, Jinsol too tired to make friendly conversation. Hyunjin doesn't seem to mind, her attention captured by the surrounding greenery of the KARI grounds.
This place is going to be their home for the next 60 days, the last place on Earth that Jinsol will see before she crashes into the asteroid.
The shuttle climbs up a slope, rolling into the driveway of the SCT.
Military personnel receive them at the entrance. They escort Jinsol and Hyunjin through the building of the SCT, taking them out the back door. There's a lot more armed bodies around, in the stairways, by the doors of each training room. Out the back door of the SCT, a black sedan receives them, also surrounded by personnel who help Jinsol and Hyunjin load into the car.
There’s a tense sense of suspense as the sedan goes further into the compound. The time is 4:45 P.M.. There's a whole hour and fifteen minutes left before the call time in the email, approximately twelve hours before the program truly begins.
Jinsol hadn’t ever been to the Faculty Quarters but she knows that it’s built like a bunker, with a lot of equipment and a spacious field for jogging and other outdoor exercises. A good place to isolate and condition the Kamikaze Two.
Sooyoung will be their official supervisor for the next 60 days. Jinsol already feels the uncertainty bubbling in the pit of her stomach. She hadn't truly seen Sooyoung in the past three years, yet the resentment is there and just as potent. The lack of exposure is the only reason Jinsol hadn't gone rabid and mauled her on the spot.
The best case scenario is that she maintains a healthy distance from Sooyoung over the next 60 days, gets on the ship without incident, and flies off into Asteroid X-2050. That's the plan Jinsol readies as the sedan rolls into the driveway of the Faculty Quarters.
It flies out the window immediately, because Sooyoung is right outside the Faculty Quarters, ready to receive them.
Captain Ha Sooyoung. She's in her military fatigues, watching as Jinsol and Hyunjin unload their luggage from the vehicles.
There's an angry bubbling in Jinsol's stomach which she channels on the handle of her travel luggage. It makes it easier for her to look away from the captain's hardening gaze.
Sooyoung greets them with a curt nod, turning to Hyunjin. "Welcome to the Faculty Quarters."
She leads them to the entrance of the single-floor building. There aren’t any guards posted around but the building itself is a massive block of steel, with heavy double doors only accessible by retinal scanner. The door's mechanism whirrs as it slides open, letting them in.
The Faculty Quarters resembles the penthouse suite of a condominium apartment. There's a common area, complete with couches and a low table, pots with Swiss cheese plants tucked in the corners of the room. A tall and wide window serves as the farthest wall of the common area, showcasing a view of the KARI grounds in the sunset light. Even from this far Jinsol can see the clearing of the launch site, spot the glowing red dot in the sky. A good reminder of why she's here in the first place.
Jinsol steps inside, dragging her travel luggage through the doorway. The bunker has a high ceiling and corridors stretching left and right from the center of the common area, with more doors lined up in them. The whole place smells like lavender, the temperature at a perfect cool on Jinsol's skin. It checks all her boxes.
"This building is restricted to the four of us for the duration of the mission." Sooyoung says from behind her. She steps inside, the doors whirring shut.
She points to each of the corridors. "On the left corridor, the left door leads to an activities hall we will use for conditioning and exercise, the right door a conference room for meetings concerning the Divert Project. Along the right corridor, the first left door is a library that leads out to the Faculty field, followed by a door to the kitchen, while the right door has our sleeping quarters and shower area."
The only information that sticks to Jinsol's mind is that she'll once again be sharing sleeping quarters with Sooyoung. Her blood pressure rises at the realization, the plan to stay as far as she can from Sooyoung swirling further and further down the toilet bowl of the universe.
"Is Heejin here, Teach?" Hyunjin asks.
What? Teach? But that’s only for cool professors—
Sooyoung's expression, to Jinsol's surprise, softens. "In the sleeping quarters."
Hyunjin takes off in the direction of the sleeping quarters. And no way is Jinsol going to be alone with Sooyoung at any point of this training period, so she follows Hyunjin into the corridor, the wheels of her luggage thudding on the wooden floor. Hyunjin should stop walking so fast!
Before Jinsol can open the door it swings outwards, smacking her on the face.
Oh gosh, she's seeing stars and she isn't even in outer space! Jinsol stumbles back as Heejin stomps out the doorway, crossing to the door of the kitchen and slamming it shut behind her.
This is going to be a long sixty days.
Jinsol enters the sleeping quarters. It's twice as spacious as what she remembers of the student's quarters, six sets of double deck beds with a corresponding bedside closet. Hyunjin is standing in front of a bed with a bright pink duffel bag on top, staring at nothing in particular.
Jinsol rolls her travel luggage inside, parking it by the bed nearest the door. It's a quality mattress, the closets clean and free of any dust. She unpacks, dumps her clothes inside the closet, spreads her Doraemon quilt on the bed.
The mattress is plush and sturdy. She stretches on the bed, letting her feet hang off the side. It's so comfy, the pillow so soft when she tests it beneath her head. There’s still an hour until the official call time, enough time to catch a nap.
Hyunjin hasn't budged an inch, still staring at what seems to be Heejin's bed. Something's up.
Jinsol isn't the type to meddle in the problems of other people, especially one as messy as this one. But if she's going to be living with these people for the next sixty days, she might as well be friends with one of them.
"Hyunjin?" She calls.
Hyunjin startles, staring blankly at Jinsol. "Were you calling me?"
Now, how should she approach the conversation? Jinsol starts with what she knows. "Why is your girlfriend mad?"
Hyunjin's expression drops. "She isn’t my girlfriend anymore."
Yikes! Strike one. Jinsol sits up, jumps straight to damage control. "Shit," she says, "do you want to talk about it?"
Hyunjin shrugs, tossing her bag on the bed beside Heejin's. "I didn't want to break up with her, but she said that you have to shrivel up and die so she can go to space with me."
Jinsol winces at her choice of words. Great, that makes it two women she's at odds with in this building. At the very least, it seems that Hyunjin wants her here, since it means her girlfriend —ex girlfriend— won't be going to space.
Jinsol lays down on the bed again, the fatigue of the past three days already creeping up on her. If she had known that she was going to be squished between Sooyoung and an angry girlfriend melodrama, would she have still signed up?
Yeah, probably. This is the fate of the world they're talking about. Especially knowing what she knows now, that nobody else would have wanted to volunteer? That it would crush Hyunjin if Heejin had been the one in her place?
There's something bigger here than her own feelings, no matter how deeply entrenched they are.
It's just sixty days. She'll make it. Then she'll be in space, saving the world from a monster asteroid.
Instead of napping, Jinsol spends the next hour reading the annex of her contract, starting with the schedule. Breakfast from 8 to 9 A.M., Lunch from 12 to 1 P.M., Dinner from 7 to 8 P.M.. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays reserved for Physical Conditioning, Tuesdays and Thursdays for Technical Skills. Saturdays for physical checkup and evaluations. And everything else? Blank.
To her amazement, each of the portions list a substantial criteria of sorts for her to fulfill within the next 60 days.
For Physical: 14-16% body fat, muscle mass of 29-33%, 95% capacity in stress tests, a set of numbers for blood hemoglobin level, oxygenation and chemistry. They were going to turn Jinsol into an Olympic-level athlete. She grabs the soft parts of her triceps. Her body fat when she was at the peak of her physical performance was 20%, and that was with regular exercise and a proper diet. She browses through the sample meal plans, sees that they're prepared by Canadian chef Ronald Batou. Does this mean she'll never taste instant ramen ever again? Damn.
For Technical Skills: Proficiency in zero gravity maneuvering, ship launching and piloting, ship hardware repairs and software troubleshooting. Familiarity with ship schematics, handling of nuclear explosives and radiation management. There's nothing about landing a rocket or maneuvering vehicles outside of the spaceship, because they won't need it anyway.
Apparently, under the discretion of the supervisor, Jinsol can be removed from the program should she fail in any of the prerequisites.
You will never reach the stars.
"Jinsol-ssi." Hyunjin calls her attention by knocking on the metal poles of the bunk bed. "Teach said to meet in the conference room by 6 P.M.."
Jinsol blinks, shuts off her laptop, shuffles off the bed. It’s jarring to hear Hyunjin use the classic KARI nickname for favored professors, especially using it for Sooyoung of all people. "What time is it?"
"Almost six." Hyunjin stares at her, eyebrows furrowing slightly. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah." Jinsol rubs her face. She's fine. She's not going to fail anything this time. "I think the three days of Naruto is getting to me."
Hyunjin nods, walking beside her as they enter the corridor.
The conference room is on the other end of the floor, the right door of the left corridor. Jinsol spots the source of lavender now, condensing vapor drifting from a small diffuser in the common area. It's a nice touch, so kudos to whoever thought of setting that up.
The conference room is set up like an executive boardroom, an oval table stretching from one end of the long room to the other. There's a presentation deck set up at the end of the room, Sooyoung standing beside it with Heejin sitting at the front.
She's laughing. Sooyoung is laughing. Heejin too, a carefree look on her face. But Sooyoung— it's been ages since Jinsol has seen her smile.
Jinsol's insides freeze.
"Jinsol-ssi," says Hyunjin from behind her, "why'd you stop walking?"
"Nothing," Jinsol spits out, louder than intended.
Heejin hears her, expression souring as she faces them. Sooyoung turns a fraction later, her own expression falling into a stale nothing.
Which is fine. Jinsol is here to save the world from Asteroid X-2050. Not to laugh and make friends with people who hate her guts. She heads inside, walking to the front of the table.
The smile on her face is painfully forced. "Let's begin?"
If Sooyoung is surprised, she doesn't show it. She nods at the empty seats beside Heejin, keeping eye contact with Jinsol.
Jinsol takes the seat beside Heejin, careless about the way the chair scrapes sharply on the linoleum floor. Sooyoung's eye twitches; there's a surge of petty pride at the accomplishment, one that Jinsol brushes off in the name of cooperation. For the sake of humankind!
Sooyoung begins. "This will be a short orientation," she says, turning to the slides. "We will be discussing your routine schedule, house rules—"
"That's all?" Jinsol flourishes with a hand as she cuts Sooyoung off. "You should have just sent an email, captain."
Sooyoung's expression remains impassive. "These are not set in stone, Jung Jinsol. This orientation is an opportunity for you three to provide input as well."
"Please go on, Teach," says Heejin, eyes narrowed at Jinsol. "If she doesn't want to listen, she should just quit—"
"She's listening, Heejin." Hyunjin barks, a foreign edge in her mellow voice that makes Jinsol backtrack.
Shit. She can't get carried away. There's more at stake here than her past hurts, than petty discourse.
Jinsol takes a deep breath. "I'm listening," she says to Sooyoung, folding her view towards the screen.
There's a pause before Sooyoung finally nods.
The screen changes to a seven day matrix, exactly the same as the one in the annex. "Breakfast, lunch, and dinner will be delivered to us every day, to be tailored to your specific needs based on your Saturday medical evaluations.
"Every day before breakfast you are required 30 minutes of moderate exercise, or a target heart rate between 95 to 130 beats per minute." Sooyoung pulls three boxes from beneath the table, placing one in front of each of them. "These are your aides for the duration of the training. They will monitor your heart rate and keep track of your schedule for the day."
Jinsol opens her box. A sleek smartwatch rests inside, lighting up as her fingers ghost the screen. She slips it over her left wrist, the interface loading before settling on a watch face display. Swiping left reveals her vitals, swiping right reveals her upcoming schedule. Free time.
Sooyoung continues. "You are afforded free time outside of our schedule in the annex, including the whole of Sundays. What you use this time for is up to you, so long as you stay within the premises. You are also afforded amenities by request, which should be coursed through me.
"Jung Jinsol," says Sooyoung, calling Jinsol away from her smartwatch. "Dr. Son has requested for you to continue assisting the Robotics Task Force on Tuesdays and Thursdays between 5-7 P.M., though this will be done only via video conference."
The smile comes easily. It feels a little nice that Dr. Son isn't done picking her brains just yet. There's less animosity bubbling up in Jinsol's stomach when she responds. "Sounds good."
Hey, she's getting used to this.
Sooyoung nods to her. The slide changes into a plain bullet-point list. House rules. "Lights on is mandatory at 7 A.M., lights out at 10 P.M.. Included in your physical checkup is monitoring of sleep, so it is highly advised that you sleep on time."
As Sooyoung continues her discussion of the house rules, Jinsol finds herself falling into old habits.
Counting the number of times Sooyoung tucks her hair behind her ear shouldn't be too bad, right? Jinsol is simply acclimatizing herself to her presence. Tempering the resentment, re-cataloguing Sooyoung as a mere stranger. If that's what it takes for Jinsol to make it through the next 60 days, then so be it.
This is Captain Ha Sooyoung in front of her, ranked military pilot, Batch 2046 valedictorian. Apparently also a beloved professor, based on the way Heejin and Hyunjin relate with her. She's more than qualified to supervise the Kamikaze Two.
You will never reach the stars.
The slide changes to a blank screen, the end of the presentation. Sooyoung turns to Heejin, then Hyunjin. "Any questions?"
Hyunjin raises a hand immediately. "Can we get an easel and paints installed in the common area? And a Netflix Account? Oh, and a crane game?"
"That can be arranged," replies Sooyoung immediately. "If there are no other questions, you are dismissed."
Jinsol is the first to leave the conference room, jumping from her seat like a hot potato. Already it's clear to her that she needs to get a handle of herself before risking any more contact, and the best way she deals with her emotions is by dealing with them alone.
The nearest room is the activities hall. Jinsol pushes the door open, locks it behind her. She's 100% sure Sooyoung mentioned that locking any doors is prohibited, but it's just for five minutes. Just long enough for her to collect her thoughts.
The activities hall is gigantic, encompassing a fourth of their whole building. There's a surprising amount of indoor plants all around. Swiss cheese and aloe in pots by the corners, orchids hanging by the sparse windows around the room. Maybe faculty members had a lot more freedom with what they were allowed to bring over.
The padded flooring scuffs underneath Jinsol's shoes as she walks the length of the room. There's a setup for basic weight training and other types of gym equipment covering every possible muscle group of the body. There's a ping pong table folded off to the side, some treadmills lined up at the very back of the room. There's even a corner for the Advanced Resistive Exercise Device similar to the standard model boarded on spaceships. It's going to be easy for Jinsol to fulfill the 30 minute moderate exercise requirement with the amount of equipment available.
She pulls a rugby ball from a basket tucked behind a water dispenser. It's severely dilapidated, and upon further inspection it turns out to be the property of a familiar Son Jisung.
There's a beep on her watch. A notification for dinner. It's already 7 P.M.? Jinsol tosses the rugby ball back into the basket, a cloud of dust rising from inside. She walks back to the door, ready to unlock it, before she stops herself.
What's her battle plan? Ignore Heejin and Sooyoung as much as possible? Sounds perfect. Except it's not an actual resolution of the problem.
Fuck. Think properly!
Heejin is angry, understandably so, because Jinsol is taking her spot beside Hyunjin onto the Kamikaze Two. At least Hyunjin is on her side. So long as Jinsol doesn't screw up in the training, Heejin can't do anything about her situation.
With Sooyoung, on the other hand, Jinsol needs to keep her cool. It's clear that Sooyoung doesn't want Jinsol here either, but it's too late for her to do anything about it. Unless of course she finds a way to kick Jinsol out of the program.
Shit, is her right knee safe around here?
The joke hits too close to home for Jinsol to laugh at her predicament.
There's a knock on the door, shaking Jinsol from her thoughts. She unlocks the door, pulls it open. Hyunjin, holding two plastic tupperwares and two tumblers.
"We're not allowed to lock doors," says Hyunjin, stepping inside the activities hall. She kicks the door behind her, shutting it. "Can we eat here?"
Jinsol thinks for a moment. The alternative is forced socialization with two people who probably don't want her around. "Yeah, there weren't any house rules against eating anywhere. Should be fine." They could probably pull up the ping pong table, set up a makeshift dining area over there.
Hyunjin sits on the floor in front of the door, setting the tupperwares and water tumblers before her.
Well, that works too. Jinsol takes a seat on the floor, crossing her legs. Activities hall picnic.
Hyunjin passes her a tupperware. These seem to be recyclable, and upon opening one Jinsol is greeted with a brown rice bulgogi meal and a healthy portion of fresh vegetables.
"It's bigger than I thought," says Hyunjin, looking around the activities hall. She's already mixing all the food together in a makeshift bibimbap. "We should ask for a trampoline." The ceiling isn't high enough for that, but Jinsol guesses that any amenities they ask for will be provided.
She takes a bite of the food. This Ronald Batou really knows what he's doing, the sweet-savory seasoning of the bulgogi beef complimenting the well-cooked rice. The vegetables are buttery and soft as well. Maybe she won't miss processed foods after all. Hyunjin seems to share her opinion, already halfway through her meat-rice-veggie mix. She walks fast and eats fast, too. And quietly, which isn't unwelcome.
Hyunjin puts her food down, stares at Jinsol. "I'm sorry Heejin hates you so much," she says out of the blue. "And I want to say thank you for being here."
Hyunjin is transparent and genuine. Not a bad person to fly into an asteroid with. Jinsol finds herself smiling with bulgogi in her mouth. "No biggie. It's just the fate of the world, you know?"
Hyunjin smiles back at that.
They spend the rest of dinner in silence. Hyunjin finishes her food faster and alternates between staring at her tumbler and staring at Jinsol with a blank expression. Jinsol tries to eat faster, because she gets it: Hyunjin can't go back outside alone.
As soon as she finishes they head out the activities hall, crossing back to the sleeping quarters.
Heejin's pink duffel bag is on a bed all the way on the other end of the sleeping quarters. Jinsol spots how Hyunjin's shoulders slouch as she heads to her bed.
Oh, there's a package on Jinsol's bed. Soft, hefty, wrapped in brown packaging with a tag that says "cadet provisions.”
Jinsol sits down to open it, tearing at the wrapper. Six whole sets of plain uniforms, a hygiene kit and towel, a brand new pair of sports shoes. If the Faculty Quarters is set up like the dormitory, it means there's a laundry machine in the shower area. Jinsol grabs some of her own sleep clothes, heads to the shower area by the side.
True enough, there is not just one, but two laundry machines inside the shower area. There are more than enough stalls to split between four people for both toilets and showers. The toilets have heated seats too. Score!
The sound of crashing plastic bottles startles Jinsol, and she turns to see what caused it.
Heejin, a fluffy pink towel slung over her shoulder, round eyes wide. Rattling on the floor are what look like the most gigantic shampoo and conditioner containers known to mankind.
Ah, so Heejin is human too. Jinsol watches as Heejin's face goes beet red, the younger woman picking up her belongings before brushing past Jinsol into the showers. If this were a normal shower area in a normal dormitory, maybe Jinsol would have tried to make friends. Instead she changes into her sleep clothes and heads to bed.
It seems like Hyunjin moved her belongings, placing them on the bed beside Heejin's. Jinsol is hoping it stops there. She's also clueless about which bed Sooyoung has chosen, until she spots a dark green duffel bag parked on the top bunk opposite her bed.
Right; they both liked staying near the door.
She falls asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow.
***
Jinsol wakes up way too early. Those three days of staying up for Naruto really screwed up her body clock, her head pounding as she slaps herself awake. She checks the time on her smartwatch.
It’s 7 A.M.. So she didn't wake up early. The pounding in her head is probably because she slept a whole 11 hours. On the watch is a notification for the first order of the day: Exercise.
Dressed in her new uniform, armed with only her watch and her issued water tumbler, Jinsol hits the gym.
The soft whirring of gym equipment greets Jinsol as she enters the activities hall. Sooyoung isn't here, but Heejin is on the elliptical facing away from the door. Hyunjin is doing some drills by herself on the ping pong table, having folded it into a makeshift wall.
Jinsol approaches the ping pong table. It's light exercise, enough to get her heart racing and meet the daily requirement while leaving her enough energy for their conditioning. It's also an opportunity for camaraderie-building.
"Hey," she calls out to Hyunjin, setting her tumbler down by the table. "Mind if I join you?"
Hyunjin smacks her paddle on the ball one last time before letting it drop. She picks a spare paddle off the floor, offers it to Jinsol. "Do you know the rules?"
Truth be told Jinsol hasn't played ping pong since undergrad college. She fixes her elastic headband. "Just rusty. Want to walk me through some drills?"
Hyunjin nods. After a quick shift of some levers the ping pong table falls into place, Hyunjin at one end and Jinsol at the other. Jinsol remembers the handshake grip on the paddle, listens as Hyunjin walks her through the basic swings.
They rally, the steady rhythm of plastic to paddle fading into background noise. Hyunjin swings like a machine, returning each of Jinsol's amateur swings with accuracy. In the times she falters, it's because she's catching a glance towards the treadmills.
Slowly Jinsol's body warms up, a beep on her watch telling her that her heartbeat is at the optimum exercise level.
As they continue, Heejin passes them by on the way out, not bothering to even look at Hyunjin as she leaves the activities hall. Hyunjin doesn't seem to mind, though her pace through the rally speeds up.
Jinsol's curiosity gets the better of her. "What are you going to do about Heejin?"
Hyunjin slips on the backhand, catching the stray ping pong ball with her foot. She stoops to pick it up. "I don't know."
That's fair. Jinsol flips the paddle in her hand, waiting for Hyunjin to serve. "It's going to suck, you know, spending your last days together like this."
"She's so stubborn about coming." Hyunjin taps the ping pong ball on the table before tossing it into a serve. It flies across the table before Jinsol can jump to return it. "Sorry," she adds as an afterthought.
"It's fine," says Jinsol, stooping to pick up the ball. "Lucky for you, I'm not an easy person to beat."
They end in time for breakfast. Jinsol helps Hyunjin fold up the table and return the paddles to their box. Her shirt is warm from the exercise, but she can probably get away with just washing her face until after the rest of today’s schedule. Hyunjin walks ahead, fast, out the activities hall, and she follows behind.
Sooyoung is in the common area with Heejin, sitting cross-legged on the couch by the window. She wears the faculty uniform, in her hands a bowl-shaped tupperware filled with muesli, milk, and dried fruit. Heejin is seated by the floor on the low table, mid-bite while talking to Sooyoung.
Jinsol knew that Sooyoung taught the two recent space cadet batches, but she hadn’t expected her to have such a close relationship with the two other volunteers. It's clear on Heejin's face, the brightest Jinsol has seen in the past days.
Hyunjin sees it too, makes no move to get her bowl of breakfast from the low table.
Maybe Jinsol will take a full shower. Forty five minutes long. Hyunjin is already walking a few steps ahead.
"Jinsol," calls Sooyoung, "Hyunjin. Come eat with us."
Hyunjin turns automatically, face blank as she walks to her teacher. She grabs a bowl and sits on the very corner of the furthest couch, watching Jinsol expectantly. So does Sooyoung.
Jinsol can't read the expression on Sooyoung's face. But Heejin is comically sour and Hyunjin is silently begging. So she obliges.
The meal is quiet. Sooyoung eats in small bites, staring out the window-wall, leaving Jinsol alone to stare at the back and forth of gazes between Hyunjin and Heejin.
Hyunjin is uncharacteristically slow with her food, mixing it as she stares at Heejin and looking away when Heejin lifts her head from her breakfast. Heejin's gaze softens when she thinks nobody is looking, which makes it clear that they still have feelings for each other.
How old were they anyway? If they were part of Batch 2049, that would make them twenty-five or twenty-six years old. Too old to act like lovesick teenagers, but here they are, Hyunjin sighing into her muesli as she finally, finally lifts a spoon for a bite.
"Hyunjin," says Sooyoung, turning her gaze from the window, "I was informed that the easel and arcade game will be delivered this evening. Is that all you are requesting?"
"Can we get a trampoline?" Hyunjin asks flatly as she drops her spoon.
Jinsol thinks she's seeing things, but there's a crinkle below Sooyoung's eyes that only shows up when she's amused. "We can have a trampoline delivered."
This sensation in Jinsol's chest. Confusion? Because Sooyoung seems to be fine? How could she be fine, after everything that happened?
Jinsol blinks. The Sooyoung before her keeps blurring into a Sooyoung from years ago, younger with longer hair. Quiet with gentle eyes, a slight smile as Jinsol gushed about the stars. Gentle eyes that shift to sharp and cold, a painful rip shooting up her right knee—
Whoa there! Jinsol, stop! Enjoy the muesli!
She shoves an especially full spoon in her mouth, chews through it without tasting anything. The healthy amount of chewing food is an average of 32 to 40 bites, which Jinsol counts through bit by bit.
Hyunjin seems to be alarmed, but she hasn't even taken a single bite from her own bowl. Keep up, Hyunjin!
They head to the activities hall for morning conditioning. Conditioning shouldn't be so bad, since it's scheduled from 9 A.M. to 12 P.M. then 3 to 6 P.M.. If the morning ends up tiring, there will be ample time in between to rest.
Except—fuck. Jinsol is sure she’s at least above average fitness, but Sooyoung’s conditioning program is hell on earth.
It’s just advanced HIIT on a theoretical level, but why does it feel like every fiber of Jinsol’s muscles is being tortured? It definitely isn’t just her; Heejin’s face is going red with effort and Hyunjin already broke a sweat.
After an hour of torment, Sooyoung instructs Hyunjin and Heejin to grab some equipment, setting them up for a circuit. Jinsol grabs her tumbler from beneath the ping pong table, taking a quick sip. She then positions herself in front of the jump-rope, in between Hyunjin's kettlebell and Heejin's dumbbell set.
Sooyoung takes them through each exercise, voice clear as she demonstrates the proper form. It's impressive, because the Sooyoung from five years ago would have been too reserved for such a feat. Granted, there's not much of an audience: two former students and—well, Jinsol.
There's no time to think as the circuit starts. It's easier to keep pace than during the HIIT training, with Sooyoung signaling when to stop and move on to the next station. Sometimes Jinsol's leg twinges when a kettlebell swing is out of sync or her jump rope spins too fast, but she is careful.
Sooyoung takes them through three groups of circuits, bringing in more dumbbells to engage the arm and back muscles. It squeezes every ounce of energy from Jinsol’s body, leaving her sapped.
They are allowed to eat lunch at any time between 12 P.M. and 3 P.M., which Jinsol uses to her full advantage by hitting the showers. The cold water is soothing for her burning muscles, and she feels good as new in a fresh set of sleep clothes. Though the workout was difficult, Jinsol feels more tired than hungry, so she sets a timer for thirty minutes and takes a nap.
Not to avoid the awkwardness of a shared meal, but that’s a bonus.
Jinsol wakes up at 2 P.M. with a crazy rumbling in her stomach. Stupid watch doesn't have a proper alarm, its tiny beeps greeting Jinsol as she sits up from her bed.
She rubs her eyes awake, peers around. Heejin is tucked in her own bed at the corner of the room, probably fast asleep. Great minds think alike.
Good thing Jinsol hadn't woken up too late, but her body feels like lead as she crawls out of her bed, wears her uniform, and heads to the corridor.
The common area is empty when she arrives, though the air humidifier sitting on one of the shelves is glowing with a full tank of water. Jinsol breathes in the sweet scent of lavender as she grabs her meal, sits on the couch by the window.
Jinsol looks around while she eats. The potted plants all around the common area draw her eyes, taking them across empty shelves that line the walls. There's a paints area by the window-wall now, the plastic on the easel still in place. It must have come with the food.
Sooyoung must have been serious when she said requested amenities would be provided. What if Jinsol asked for a unicycle? Or a hot-air balloon. That's the kind of thing she would want to try before heading off to space. And there's a lot of space to try things out in the Faculty field.
Wait, is that Hyunjin sitting outside by the grass? Her Kamikaze partner has her knees tucked to her chin, staring at the launch site. She hasn't changed her clothes, and it fits Jinsol's mental catalogue for Hyunjin to be the kind of person to wait out the whole day of activities before showering.
Jinsol should hang out with her partner. She stands, takes her food with her as she heads to the library, the field.
The door of the Faculty field closes louder than she intends, Hyunjin's head snapping to her direction.
"Hey," Jinsol offers, raising her lunch, "mind if you have some company?"
Hyunjin nods, patting the space of grass beside her. She returns to staring at the launch site as Jinsol sits down.
The weather is pleasant. The fall air is great on her skin, the sunlight a nice bright cool that lights up the field.
Jinsol sets her tupperware in between her crossed legs, resumes eating. The food tastes good and feels clean, the bitterness of the greens melding well with the chicken fillet. It's good fuel for her muscles.
Jinsol finishes her whole meal with Hyunjin staring at the horizon, silent and somber. Why does the sight of her partner remind her of a kicked puppy? Is it another lovers’ quarrel with Heejin?
Jinsol starts her data gathering. "Did something happen while I was asleep?"
Hyunjin picks at some blades of grass, eyebrows creasing in worry. Bullseye. "We fought."
"Oh?" Jinsol grabs the anchor, draws it closer to shore. "How'd it happen?"
Hyunjin raises her head to speak, eyes flitting as she chooses her words. For someone so transparent, Hyunjin is quite thoughtful. "She was in the kitchen talking to Teach about the volunteer ranking. "
Jinsol freezes.
Hyunjin doesn't notice. "She was questioning the results. Leading in the physical and the Technical skills segment, only a step behind you for the exams portion. She kept going on and on about how she was more qualified on all fronts, and I—"
Hyunjin breathes, bows her head. "I punched the door."
She sees it now, the slight scrapes on Hyunjin's knuckles. So this is what Dr. Son meant when he called Jinsol up that night, talked about the ranking. She flexes her clenched fists. This shouldn't be surprising. But she can't muster any words right now, only forcing a breath as Hyunjin continues.
"Teach reprimanded the both of us." Hyunjin scratches her head. "She said that the rankings were final, and unless warranted, they wouldn't be moved. Heejin was upset."
Ah. The breath comes easier now. Jinsol rubs her neck. "Why is Heejin so intent on going?"
Hyunjin's expression darkens. "I don't know!" Her voice takes on a different, deeper timbre. Angrier. "I keep telling her. She's better off alive, not dead in outer space. Her dad—"
Hyunjin's eyes widen. She suddenly folds into herself, pulling her arms around her knees. "Please don't tell her I said that."
It sinks in. Heejin has more people to leave behind. Hyunjin knows this. But the fear that Heejin will still choose Hyunjin, even when it's so futile to do so, that's what is driving Hyunjin up the wall.
On a gut instinct Jinsol reaches out, knocks a soft fist into Hyunjin's shoulder. A shot at comfort. "I told you. I'm not an easy person to beat. Heejin won’t be getting on that ship."
Hyunjin wipes her face harshly with the heel of her palm. Like a child who tripped and fell, scraping her knees. It's clear that Hyunjin loves Heejin so much, doesn't want her to sacrifice herself.
There's a tug in Jinsol's chest, because the realization that Hyunjin is doomed to leave Heejin is a cruel one.
Jinsol spots Heejin in her periphery, watching through the window. She disappears through the corridor towards the activities hall, and right on time Jinsol’s and Hyunjin’s watches buzz for the second half of the conditioning.
"Thanks," says Hyunjin, wiping her palms on her uniform pants before standing up. She offers a hand to Jinsol, pulling her upright. The wear on her partner's brow is still there, but not as heavy.
Jinsol goes for a cheeky smile to lift the mood. "Let's train?"
It works, somewhat. Hyunjin is glowing with gratitude.
They head to the activities hall, Jinsol readying herself for another rigorous set of exercises. Her shoulders are still sore, calves heavy from the HIIT, so she doesn't understand how Hyunjin can still walk so fast, leaving the door open for Jinsol to enter.
Sooyoung nods to her as soon as she enters, pointing to one of the three mats lined up before her. Hyunjin and Heejin are already in place, leaving the middle mat for her. Oh, Hyunjin's claw game has arrived, situated by the baskets of equipment by the wall. She should try those out.
Jinsol takes her position in the middle mat, waits for instructions. She can get used to this, seeing Sooyoung and not wanting to scream.
"Monday is leg day." Sooyoung looks to Jinsol, impassive. "We will conduct a warmup routine first, then use the weights and the ARED for resistance training."
Jinsol 's jaw clenches. It's bad that it's leg day. It's worse that Sooyoung's gaze is fixed on her, as if waiting.
What is Sooyoung waiting for? What is she going to do? Jinsol's hands tremble; it's just the fatigue from exercise. She isn't going to screw up again.
Jinsol’s vision tunnels as Sooyoung starts the warmup routine. Every stretch of her right leg burns, her fingers growing cold as she presses them to the mat. Fuck. She can't screw up.
Can't keep up?
Oh, warmup is done. Jinsol blinks, squeezes her hands together as she positions herself at the ARED. Her knee is hot, but why? All she's done is warm it up.
Sooyoung's gaze is fixed to her right knee.
Signal. Jinsol's hands meet the cold steel of the ARED bars, and she pushes. It's a machine meant to be used in zero gravity, a platform for the feet and a bar for the hands, a full body resistance workout. But her hands threaten to slip, a lump in her throat heavy and thick. She feels every jolt of force up her right knee because Sooyoung is watching it.
Just give up.
Jinsol is at the weights, apprehension weighing her down. She had the surgery. She's fine. She had the surgery. The doctor said that her leg was as good as new, so why is it trembling from her weight? She pivots at her right leg, forcing a platform, barbells extended in front of her. She breathes, tries to calm down.
You will never reach the stars.
"Fix your posture, Jinsol," calls Sooyoung, "stretch your leg."
Jinsol snaps.
She stands up, barbells falling on the padded floor. "You're doing this on purpose, you asshole!”
The lack of surprise on Sooyoung's face riles her up.
Jinsol seethes. "What's next, want me to throw myself on the wall? You just want me to break again."
It hits a nerve. Sooyoung clenches her jaw.
She doesn't care. Sooyoung's image blurs in her mind, younger, longer hair, and Jinsol feels the heavy weight of the impact, hears the pop that ripped a hole in her heart. "You've already ruined me once, you fucking snake."
Sooyoung's face is stoic, but Jinsol recognizes the tensing of her shoulders. She’s upset.
The thought fills Jinsol's chest with a toxic, venomous pride. "What, going to kick me out—"
"Take the program seriously, Jung Jinsol." Sooyoung's tone is clipped and sharp as steel. "There's nothing personal about this exercise."
Jinsol sees red. "Excuse me?"
"If your leg can't handle the training, you should have never signed up." Sooyoung flexes her wrist, fist clenched. "I don't know what Dr. Son was thinking when he recommended you—"
"I'm the only fucking serious person—"
"Then prove it!" Sooyoung's voice is shrill when she raises it, rooting Jinsol to her spot. Sooyoung never raises her voice.
The captain inhales, tempers herself. "This is not about you, this is not about what happened three years ago. So take this seriously, Jung Jinsol, or you take the whole planet with you to the grave."
It's silent. Jinsol's mind is back at the activities hall, suddenly aware of the two other pairs of eyes fixed on her. Her body fills with shame at the outburst.
"Water break," says Sooyoung, clapping her hands twice.
Jinsol drops to the floor, doesn't see when Sooyoung slams the door as she leaves. The exchange drained her, and the shame of the aftermath burns; how could she lose her cool?
She wraps her arms around her knees, fixing her gaze on her shoes. Brand new, Nike. They're a brilliant blue. Jinsol should be better than this.
Soft steps, a person crouching beside her. It's Hyunjin, eyes bleeding concern.
Shit. This is so embarrassing. And she's probably worrying Hyunjin, because every moment Jinsol risks her spot as the second volunteer is a moment that risks Heejin's welfare.
A hand is warm on her shoulder. Hyunjin is quiet, averting her eyes from Jinsol. It's a silent attempt at comfort.
Jinsol tries for humor. "Took a page from your fight book. Don't think it ended well."
Hyunjin nods, still looking away. "You'll be okay." There's a pause where Jinsol thinks Hyunjin is about to ask a question. Instead, her partner pats her shoulder before leaving for the water break.
Jinsol knows the question, though. What happened three years ago? Why did she call her beloved Teach a snake?
Jinsol has questions too. Why did Sooyoung vie for the top spot all of a sudden? Why did Sooyoung push Jinsol to try so hard that she ripped her knee? Why did Sooyoung reject the Mars mission she tried so hard to snatch from Jinsol's hands?
She should drink water.
The rest of conditioning is a slap to the face. Jinsol watches how Sooyoung goes rounds with Heejin and Hyunjin, correcting their posture, coaching them through the activities. Sooyoung looks to her, neutral, and Jinsol finally, finally sees the pity in her eyes.
Shit. This is the fate of the world they're training for. There's no room for meaningless questions. No time for the past. Jinsol grips the bars of the ARED, feels the resistance on her shoulders, back, and thighs. She pushes.
The showers are more occupied the second time around. Hyunjin is the fastest walker and hits the showers first, but Jinsol doesn't mind. She takes her time going through her clothes, still reeling from the afternoon.
"Hey."
Jinsol looks up, sees Heejin at the foot of her bed. Her posture is even and paired with a neutral expression, fluffy pink towel slung over her shoulder, arms wrapped around her shampoo-conditioner set.
Heejin is reciting from a script in her head, Jinsol can tell. "I want to say sorry for being an asshole since day one." She pauses, purses her lips as she reorganizes her thoughts. She's as much an open book as Hyunjin is. "As much as I'd rather it be me than you on that ship, it's no excuse for me to shit on you for it.
“That's not gonna stop me though." Heejin fidgets with her toiletries, squinting at nothing in particular. "From trying, I mean."
Her words settle like a warm blanket. It's a roundabout attempt to comfort her, but an attempt.
Jinsol takes it. "I can respect that. You performed pretty well too, you know."
Heejin's lips curl into a tiny smile. "Thanks."
Hyunjin enters from the shower area, a strong citrus scent filling the room. Wow, she even showers fast, toweling her hair as she walks inside.
Heejin's smile becomes a tense line, shoulders squaring up as she brushes past Hyunjin, entering the shower area. Looks like Heejin is still at odds with her.
Hyunjin's shoulders slack, towel draped across her shoulders. She's staring at Heejin's bed.
It’s not the right time to meddle.
After showering, Jinsol spends the hour before dinner in the library.
In the middle of the room is a big round table, surrounded by industrial cabinets filled with books on all topics aerospace: Physics, Quantum Mechanics, Biochemistry.
She pulls a random book from a shelf, opens it in the middle, and zones out. She's not here to read, but to think.
The conversations of the day, the outburst—Jinsol needs to do a better job of getting along with everyone. There's a bigger picture after all, in all this.
If Sooyoung said sorry for everything that happened—no, that wouldn't help. It's better like this, strangers working together to save the Earth. Making things personal is the mistake Jinsol made, the ball and chain that Heejin and Hyunjin struggle with now. The paragraph in the Chemistry volume she opened reads about the Natural Gas composition of the stars: 71% Hydrogen, 27% Helium.
How can you tell, Sol, that the stars you love so much aren’t already dead?
It's nothing personal.
When Jinsol's watch beeps for dinnertime, she makes her way to the common area.
Sooyoung is crouched in the corner of the common area, pouring bottled water into one of the Swiss cheese pots. The humidifier is up and running, a soft violet glow coloring the vapors that drift from it. On the low table is the stack of tupperwares for their dinner.
It makes sense. Sooyoung is a botanist by degree, and her favorite scent is lavender. There's a throb in Jinsol's right knee that she decides to ignore. Instead, she opens the TV.
Hey, looks like Netflix pulled through. She scrolls through the more vintage shows, pulls up the first ever season of Running Man and sets it on the screen. It was her mom’s favorite show back when she was a teen; so what if Jinsol is feeling a little sentimental?
Sooyoung stands from her potted plant, nods in greeting.
Jinsol waits for the animosity to flood her lungs, but it doesn't come. It's intensely sobering, the hollow feeling in her chest that used to hold so much anger.
Isn’t it incredibly pathetic of her to still be stuck in the past? It’s been three years. She should do better. Start afresh.
So Jinsol clears her throat. “We have Technical Skills tomorrow, right?”
If Sooyoung is surprised, she doesn’t show it. “Yes.”
Jinsol nods, turns her attention back to Netflix. Hey, this TV screen is top-of-the-line quality, pixelation so enhanced she can see the pores of the stars on the title screen.
"I love Running Man!" It's Heejin, coming from the corridor. Her voice is loud, trying to drown the tension in the air. "My parents used to watch it when they were kids. Is this the pilot season?" Surprisingly considerate, now that she isn't trying to gut Jinsol with a glare.
A chuckle bubbles in Jinsol’s chest at the thought. "It's a classic. Figured we could watch it while eating dinner." She presses play, the rambunctious opening of the show playing on the screen. It fills the room with a comfortable noise.
Heejin scrunches up her nose, lips curling in a tiny smile. "Good choice." She takes a seat at the low table, sets a tupperware in front of her. Her attention is instantly caught by the show.
Hyunjin arrives from the corridor of the activities hall, a small cat plush toy in her hand. She places it on the shelf by the TV, grabbing a meal from the table before taking her spot at the further couch.
There's comfort as they eat this time. Running Man is a show so mundane, so light in the laughter it brings. It pulls the mind away from the past hurts, the future heartbreaks. Roots them to the present.
At 10 P.M. Jinsol is relaxed, body heavy from the exercises of the day. Heejin's eyes are glazing over, glued to the screen, Hyunjin's head slipping from the arm propping it up. Sooyoung is still awake, curled up at the other end of the couch, alert as she watches the screen.
After all these years, even as strangers, Jinsol and Sooyoung are the best at staying up.
Jinsol stands, shutting off the show. She hears Sooyoung move from the couch, waking Hyunjin and Heejin up.
It’s curfew time. Jinsol goes ahead to the sleeping quarters, ahead of Heejin and Hyunjin, leaving Sooyoung to shut off all the lights.
Still awake, Sol?
Strangers. Jinsol takes the thought to bed, drawing her Doraemon quilt tight around her body as she drifts off to sleep.
***
Jinsol decides to run for the morning exercise.
She's the last to wake again, a little earlier this time at 6:30 A.M.. She's getting used to the routine of wearing her uniform, tying her hair then her shoes before heading out the sleeping quarters, almost walking straight into Heejin.
"Hey, good morning," greets Heejin, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. She's already done with morning exercise? How responsible. Heejin steps to the side, letting Jinsol out of the room.
Jinsol walks through the library to the field. She closes the door behind her, eyes finding its way to Hyunjin on a trampoline right outside the door.
Trampoline? "Hi!" greets Hyunjin as she jumps a good two meters high. Her speech cuts with every bounce. "This! Is! Fun!"
"Yeah," says Jinsol, giving Hyunjin a wide berth. She looks out on the field, sees Sooyoung jogging on the track.
Yeah. That makes sense. Sooyoung likes jogging, likes the cool air and the view of grass and trees.
Jinsol stretches on the innermost lane before starting with her jog.
The feel of the rubber beneath her shoes is welcome. The early morning air is cool through the material of her uniform, her muscles slowly but surely waking up. On the other side of the field is Sooyoung, jogging at the same pace.
Maybe she can get used to this, keeping emotional distance despite the forced proximity. Yeah. Right.
Jinsol flexes her shoulders as she runs, keeps her eyes trained to the couple of meters in front. Her watch beeps for the heartbeat level after three minutes.
She passes by the window-wall. Heejin is there, sitting at the easel. It's a little jarring when she waves as Jinsol runs by, so different from her demeanor yesterday. But it's a welcome change. Hyunjin isn't jumping at the trampoline anymore, likely done with her 30 minutes quota. Perks of early risers.
Today is Technical Skills day. Following the curriculum in the annex of their contract, today they will be tackling ship maintenance and zero gravity maneuvering. Jinsol took up maneuvering in the three years of her space cadet stint, but ship maintenance will be entirely new. But absolutely necessary, since any ship malfunction on this mission can result in the extinction of humanity.
Sooyoung heads inside the building, leaving Jinsol alone on the field. She doesn't mind; she's just here to run, isn't she?
Jinsol finishes her jog after the prescribed 30 minutes, then heads back inside. A quick wipe down is enough to make her comfortable in her uniform, so she heads to the common area.
Heejin is still at the easel, her pencil gliding over a brand new canvas. There's around fifteen minutes to breakfast, and Jinsol is in a sociable mood. She parks herself on the couch by the window-wall, wears a wide smile. "What's your subject?"
Heejin turns to her, then does a double take. "I didn't know you had dimples."
It makes Jinsol laugh. "That's your fault for being so feisty off the bat. If you keep being nice, you'll see it more often."
Heejin's face glows pink from the bashfulness. She turns back to the easel, raises her pencil. Sketches in broad strokes. "Hyunjin has a dimple on one cheek. I notice those kinds of things."
Huh. Jinsol hasn't seen Hyunjin's dimple. Her face is always so slack, so open. Has there been an opportunity to see it? Will there ever be one? The thought sobers her.
Heejin's eyes are fixed on the canvas, her strong profile catching in the morning light. Did she have foreign blood? Where else would she get that nose?
Jinsol hears Hyunjin's footsteps from the corridor. How does she already recognize them? Hyunjin is there, in her hands a small stuffed dog.
"Heejin."
Heejin's shoulders bunch up at the sound of her name.
Hyunjin approaches her, face blank. Undeterred. "You don't have to talk to me. But I got this for your birthday."
It's like watching one of those Nicholas Sparks movies, time slowing down as Heejin turns to Hyunjin, round eyes meeting wide ones. Jinsol holds her breath, feels the intense, passionate chemistry between two people who love each other and wow! She’s getting goosebumps!
Heejin is the first to break eye contact, shattering the moment. Her brow is stern again as she takes the dog from Hyunjin's hands. "Thanks."
The thanks is laced with so much resentment, the effect on Hyunjin's demeanor clear. She stands there as Heejin turns away, dropping her pencil into its holder on the easel. It is another tense, charged silence, with Jinsol stuck in the middle.
The metal doors of the quarters open on cue. Sooyoung enters, in her hands a bag for their breakfast. Her gaze flits to their corner, assessing the situation in the blink of an eye. She turns to Jinsol with one eyebrow raised.
Jinsol shakes her head rapidly. This isn't her fault at all!
Sooyoung walks to the common table, drops the breakfast bag, the bowl tupperwares rolling out of it. It makes a loud sound, jolting Hyunjin and Heejin from their standoff.
"Oops," says Sooyoung with her eyebrows raised in mock surprise. It's so manufactured that Jinsol snorts against her will.
Heejin seems to buy it. "Hey, Teach," she says, leaving the easel to help Sooyoung pick up the scattered bowls.
Hyunjin takes two of the bowls, passes one to Jinsol.
Breakfast today is a thick and creamy oatmeal with a generous heaping of fruit. Jinsol is hungrier than she expected to be, shoveling one spoon after the other.
Hyunjin matches, even exceeds her pace, and is the first to finish. It's better than yesterday, when she didn't eat, but the silence over the common area is heavy and awkward.
"By the way," says Sooyoung from the couch, "happy birthday, Heejin."
Heejin sinks further into her bowl of oatmeal.
There is a black sedan waiting for them at the driveway of the Faculty Quarters. Sooyoung heads straight for shotgun, Hyunjin for the backseat. With some awkward staring courtesy of Heejin, Jinsol cedes to the middle seat.
Wow, was this what Jinsol put Heejin and Hyunjin through yesterday? The ride to the SCT feels terribly long, with a maudlin Hyunjin on her left, a bitter Heejin on her right. The soldier driving for them seems to notice the tension as well, eyes flitting to the rearview mirror every so often.
Finally, the SCT. Military personnel receive them by the driveway as their car rolls to a sudden stop, Jinsol hit by the inertia. It takes too long for Sooyoung to step out of the vehicle, do the fancy salute ritual with all the soldiers, until they finally open the back doors of the sedan. Heejin spills out first, then Jinsol, then Hyunjin.
Jinsol stretches her legs. Sweet, sweet, space.
As they line up in front of the SCT's checkpoint Jinsol clears her throat. "Sooyoung." The name fits weird in her mouth. "Can we get a bigger car on the way back?"
Sooyoung's gaze is neutral. "I can drive us back instead." It's a good enough alternative, but the conversation feels stilted, ended prematurely. Jinsol parks the feeling as they head to the Simulation Hall on the second floor.
First order of the day: Tool management. A moderator receives them at the entrance of the Simulation Hall, leads them past the simulation cabin. There's a door that Jinsol doesn't think she's ever noticed in the three years she spent at the SCT, and it turns out to lead to a high-ceiling work chamber.
This must be the specialized training chambers. Four workstations are set up in this room, pedestals on which wide glass cases rest, each with space gloves jutting inside for tools training. There's a glass panel dividing this room and the next, with a vacuum-sealed door serving as the entrance, two sets of sleek spacesuits on standees by the door. Inside the other room is what looks like the mock-up of some broken ship parts.
The moderator clears his throat, directs them to one of the pedestals. He flips open the lid of the glass case showcasing the three tools inside. Jinsol recognizes them: Safety tether buckle, pliers, a pistol grip tool without the bit. The pistol grip tool's handle is as tall as her forearm, its steel just as long.
The next hour has Jinsol familiarizing herself with the tools. There's a panel on the pistol grip tool where she can set the speed and torque it uses, making a very powerful handheld drill. She gets the physics of it, but a lot of things are easier for her in theory than in practice. Such as the damned weight of the thing. The gloves are stiff when she tries to maneuver them, making even the slotting of a battery so difficult. The safety tether buckle is more familiar, working like a clip-on carabiner for outer space. Jinsol is able to fit the buckle into its loop even with the gloves on. And pliers? They're pliers. There's no proper way to evaluate whether she can use them or not.
Hyunjin seems to be having fun, though. She presses the trigger of the power grip tool again and again, transfixed by the spinning parts of the head. Lifting the hefty thing doesn't seem to be a problem for her. Heejin is extremely meticulous with her study of the pliers, turning them over with a scrutinizing squint. And Sooyoung?
Sooyoung meets her gaze from where she’s convened with a number of moderators.
Jinsol returns to the task at hand. This power grip tool is a lot more exciting than she thought it would be.
As the hour ends, the moderator calls their attention to the glass panel. It’s a simplified Zero-G chamber for use of tools and space suits practice, soon to be installed with the practice flight deck once Engineering finalizes the details.
Sooyoung is called to the chamber to demonstrate, given a safety harness to wear for the demo. Jinsol watches as the moderator clips on a two meter-long safety tether to a slot on the floor, hands it over to Sooyoung when she enters the chamber.
The moderator seals the chamber, the indicator on the vacuum door emitting a green light. He activates the mic, waiting on Sooyoung's signal to activate the Zero-G.
At the flick of a switch, Sooyoung floats. On cue she stretches out her arms, the safety tethers keeping her anchored in place. The moderator radios in an instruction to unclip the safety tethers and maneuver the room for two minutes.
Jinsol's eyes follow the captain. Even as a cadet Sooyoung proved to be a natural in zero gravity, with her keen sense of direction and creative problem solving. Sooyoung uses the slight force from the release of the tether to float to the ceiling, then she zooms.
Down, up, left, right, what she lacked in muscle mass she made up for with agility and great instinct, all four of her limbs engaged as she navigates each corner of the chamber. In two minutes she’s back to the safety tether, buckling herself to place.
As Sooyoung touches the ground, the moderator shuts off the Zero-G, sets her free of the belt around her waist.
Jinsol never learned to do it the way Sooyoung did, no matter how hard she tried.
They’re sent back to the workstations right after. The actual Zero-G training is set for the afternoon. It's incredibly mind numbing for something on which the world depends so much.
She chalks it up to the fact that so many details on the ship and its needs are still being hashed out, the Engineering Task Force not knowing yet what it is these volunteers will need to know. The moderator tries to make the time less of a waste, taking out the different vintage tools and even demonstrating cold welding in the glass cases, but the beep of Jinsol's watch for lunch has never been more welcome.
Lunch is served to them in the Simulation Hall. It's a beef wellington with a side of greens, still hot as Jinsol sets the tupperware in front of her. Upon closer inspection, the plastic is an insulator that's usually reserved for space cabins or electric wires. Neat, even the culinary staff is composed of scientists.
In any case it's delicious. The four of them eat in silence on the benches of the hall, where only a week ago they were queued for the applications.
There's a natural divide formed in their four-person group. Hyunjin is sitting beside Jinsol, plowing through her food, while Heejin drifts towards Sooyoung's side of the benches.
Heejin is amicable, which explains why she buried the hatchet with Jinsol so easily. Her low voice reaches across the room, mixing with Sooyoung's even tone, a discussion of revisions to the Technical Skills training.
"Jinsol-unnie," says Hyunjin, startling Jinsol with the honorific. She sets her empty tupperware aside. "I want to get to know you better."
Jinsol snorts. "How forward, Hyunjin," she says, taking her last bite of food. Before Hyunjin's wide-eyed expression could falter, she adds, "what do you want to know?"
They're interrupted by the simultaneous beep of their watches. On cue, a different set of moderators come in the Simulation Hall, taking positions at the control panel and the holding room. The head moderator, the same one from the applications, approaches Sooyoung and Heejin.
"We can talk later," Jinsol reassures Hyunjin before they make their way to the moderator.
The Zero-G training is a whole lot more streamlined than the morning session, with its main goal being to acclimatize them to extended periods of zero gravity. Though technology has advanced so far ahead as to make gravity on a spaceship possible, it had the limitation of a two-hour cooldown for every six hours of running. It's still a great step, decreasing the negative health effects of spaceflight and by correlation opening horizons for long-term space travel.
The moderator starts them in twenty minute shifts in the following order: Hyunjin, Jinsol, then Heejin. Hyunjin is escorted to the holding area to prepare for the first round of training, leaving Jinsol and Heejin to wait in the benches.
It's a lot like watching fish in a bowl. The moderator activates the Zero-G and Hyunjin floats, but she's not asked to do much else. After all, it's just to acclimatize the body. Jinsol watches as Hyunjin does some drills of her own accord before drifting around like a floatie in a pool.
There's a creak of the bench as Heejin scoots to sit beside her. "Hey," she says, discreet edging on bashful. "Is it just me, or is the Technical Skills team unprepared for us?"
"You're probably right," she responds. Sooyoung is watching them from afar, then watching Hyunjin.
Jinsol turns to Heejin again. "Happy birthday, by the way. Though this is a pretty sucky place to celebrate it."
Heejin perks her lips in a small smile. "Thanks, and you're right." Her eyes flit to the simulation cabin, face falling. "Better than nothing."
Jinsol follows her line of sight to Hyunjin.
Heejin starts rambling. "I'm still angry, you know. Thinking, if I had woken up in time, I could have beaten you in the rank. And I know I'm unfair for pinning it all on Hyunjin." She's wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, nose red with effort. " She's so adamant about me going home. But it hurts, too, seeing her suffer so silently. She thinks I don’t know, but she's so scared of this mission. So I won’t let her do this alone. Even if I'm just a backup."
It clicks, Heejin's stubbornness, Hyunjin's constant pressure to excel. They're feeding each other's fires. A confusing situation, a catch-22, because no matter what Heejin decides to do, Hyunjin is still getting blown up in space.
The moderator gives the signal for the end of Hyunjin's first round. Following protocol, she climbs down the side of the guide railing as Zero-G is deactivated.
It's Jinsol's turn. She's brought to the holding area, where Hyunjin massages her face by the doorway. Hyunjin nods to her before heading outside.
Jinsol stands in the center of the fish tank. Heejin has returned to Sooyoung's side, Hyunjin on the front row of the benches, eyes fixed on Jinsol.
Static crackles overhead: can they begin? Jinsol gives a thumbs up.
Here it comes: puffy head, bird legs. As the Zero-G sets in, Jinsol rides out the sudden rush of blood in her head. She pushes herself up with the balls of her feet, careful not to spin around until she touches her fingertips to the ceiling. Nausea is there again as she tries to reorient herself with the flight deck.
Think of everything as up or down in Zero-G, Sol. Everything is up when you need an up, down when you need a down.
Jinsol shakes off the memory before it can anchor in her mind. It's difficult, though, with Sooyoung right there watching her. Is she thinking of the same thing, the same moment three years ago?
She turns, rises to the ceiling. In the 2046 records, Jung Jinsol ripped her ACL during an ill-timed pivot on one of the lead-up evaluations of the final exam. This resulted in a forced dropout from the batch and a default of her standing as the top cadet. But Jinsol is sure it began here, in an ill-timed team building exercise that threatens to burn white-hot in her memory.
When she returned as a member of Batch 2047, there was an initial adjustment period involving a lot of vomit and a month of excuse slips, but she got over it. Good enough to pass the applications for the Kamikaze Two, even.
Her head is heavy, senses dull as she inhales and exhales. Her right knee is throbbing again and she doesn't have to look to know that Sooyoung is watching her.
It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. This isn't about her.
The twenty minute timer ends. Jinsol pulls herself down with the guide rails as the Zero-G shuts off. Her legs wobble, and she has to count her breaths before her legs are ready to lift her weight.
She heads to the holding area, nods to Heejin before she returns to the benches of the Simulation Hall.
Jinsol's gaze meets Sooyoung's momentarily, cut off when she plops herself down beside Hyunjin. Heejin is already starting her first twenty minutes.
Hyunjin is staring at her shoes, tapping them to a rhythm on the floor of the hall. Her face is blank, but Jinsol gets the hunch that she's thinking of something. About training? About Heejin? About the inescapable truth of human finitude?
She turns to Jinsol all of a sudden. "Twenty Questions?"
Jinsol blinks. Ah, so this is what Hyunjin meant by getting to know each other. "Sure."
Hyunjin’s lips curl into a pleased smile. It doesn't show her dimple though. "Favorite color?"
"Blue. You?"
"Yellow. Why blue?"
Jinsol thinks. "It's calm, steady, cool." Sooyoung watches them from her side of the benches. "Why do you like yellow?"
"It makes me happy. Favorite cadet subject?"
"Celestial bodies," the words slip from Jinsol's mouth. But that hasn't been true for years. "Yours?"
"Flight simulation." Hyunjin turns to Sooyoung, eyes bright with adoration. "It was fun, and Teach was great. I’m glad she’s teaching us."
Flight simulation. Jinsol's vision shifts again, Sooyoung's face younger, eyes twinkling as she once upon a time teamed up with Jinsol during a flight simulation project. Warm hands over her own, hot breath tickling her ear—
Jinsol jolts. She hasn't thought of that in years.
She shakes her head, tries to recover. "Yeah, planes are neat," she says louder than intended, and Sooyoung cocks her head. Almond eyes meet her own.
It's concerning, the depth of experience that threatens to gush out of Jinsol like vomit. This is the severe whiplash of the past three days, where Sooyoung moved from nemesis to stranger to acquaintance. Jinsol tries to spool her feelings into organized thread: crushing insecurity, bubbling anger, resigned indifference, crawling wistfulness.
Wistfulness? Bad!
"Jinsol-unnie," Hyunjin repeats, "you're zoning out again."
"Huh?" Jinsol blinks, her train of thought derailed. Oh, Heejin's done. Sooyoung is by the benches, and it takes Hyunjin's hand on her shoulder for her to realize that shit. She's staring.
Get a grip, Jinsol. "Sorry, twenty questions?"
Hyunjin holds Jinsol’s gaze for a moment, before shaking her head. She scoots away on the bench, and upon turning Jinsol realizes it’s because Heejin is back from the holding area.
When Hyunjin leaves the bench, Heejin sidles up to Jinsol. "Hey," she goes, "can I ask you something?"
Jinsol doesn’t mind. “What about?”
“What happened between you and Teach?”
Jinsol fumbles on the bench. Left field! And Sooyoung is right there! "What are you talking about?"
Heejin stares at her plainly. "You called her a snake and all yesterday. Something happened."
Jinsol’s mouth opens and closes as she tries to gather her thoughts. “Why not ask her yourself?”
Heejin’s face scrunches up at the thought. “She’s a really private person.”
“So am I!” Jinsol catches herself before she blows a fuse. Breathes. Sooyoung’s eyes are on Hyunjin. “Look, Heejin. It’s all in the past. It’s not a big deal.”
Heejin squints at her, unconvinced. But she drops it.
At the end of the training session, Sooyoung keeps her promise of driving them back, with Hyunjin commandeering the shotgun seat without contest. The space is welcome now that Jinsol has the corner seat, and so is the headrest that blocks her view of Sooyoung's head.
Jinsol is tired, though the schedule of the day is loose and disorganized. For the sake of the planet she hopes it gets better. She lets her head rest on the car window, stares out.
Sooyoung is a steady driver; there's probably something that vehicles and aircraft have in common, because the glide of their sedan is so smooth on the roads of the KARI grounds. She doesn't take her eyes off the road at all, either, from what Jinsol can see from the side mirror.
Jinsol should have accepted Jungeun’s offer for driving lessons while she had the chance.
The car stops at the driveway of the Faculty Quarters, Hyunjin fluidly opening the door and throwing herself out of the seat. Heejin had managed to doze off in the short ride, now knocking her nose into the car window as she wakes.
"Jinsol," calls Sooyoung right before Jinsol closes the back door of the car. "Head to the conference room for a call with the Robotics Task Force."
Oh, right! It'll be great to hear from Dr. Son again, see what they've come up with as of late. Jinsol nods, leaves Sooyoung to park the car somewhere on the side of the Faculty Quarters.
Jinsol heads to the conference room. If she remembers correctly, the meeting tablets use an account with a direct line to each of the task forces should they need to meet. She pulls a tablet from its slot on the table, sits down as she navigates the interface. True enough there's a meeting scheduled every Tuesday and Thursday with the Robotics Task Force, and Jinsol is already fifteen minutes late for the first one.
The screen loads, bringing her to a view of their empty Robotics lab. There's static as the mic picks up what sounds like a strangled flailing before the zoomed-in face of Jungeun pops up on the screen.
"There you are," says Jungeun, and Jinsol can't help but laugh at the close-up of Jungeun's eyeball. The view switches around as her former labmate adjusts the camera, pushes it back for a better view of the lab. "Dr. Son was just here, but he got called to a meeting by the Physics Task Force."
"That's fine," says Jinsol. "Where's everyone else, though? Thought this was for the Robotics Task Force?"
Jungeun on the screen crosses her arms, clicks her tongue. It's her signature move for when she's either about to commence verbal sparring over a pathetic project proposal, or say something very, very controversial. Jinsol prepares herself for the latter.
"This isn't an official Robotics Task Force meeting," says Jungeun slowly, enunciating her words, "since officially, we're not allowed to get your help anymore." Jungeun presses her lips in a flat line, shrugging her shoulders. "Officially, you can't review Dr. Son's latest project proposal that I'm sending to your email. Especially since you're so busy with your training."
It strikes Jinsol like lightning. "Hold on," she says, scrambling to stand. "I'll just, yeah, get water."
She heads out the room, passes by the common area to grab her laptop from the sleeping quarters. Heejin is at the easel again, but Jinsol is a woman on a mission, dashing back to the conference room in record time.
She sits in front of the meeting tablet, sees Jungeun's expectant expression. "I'll just, open my water over here." Jungeun's smirk pops out, so Jinsol knows she got the message right.
There's an email on her laptop from Jungeun, with a password-locked file for the attachments.
"What's the password for the water?" asks Jinsol, earning a glare from the other end of the screen.
Jungeun waves a hand in the air. "You didn't tell me that Dr. Son bought your favorite Gundam for your birthday. "
It's not subtle at all, because Dr. Son never bought Jinsol a Gundam model for her birthday. But she gets it, types in ZGMF-X20A in the password, opens the folder.
There are three files inside. One is the latest draft schematic of the ship, with excessive notations in Dr. Son's format and style. Another is an asset register on the available nanotechnology hardware and software currently in the possession of the Robotics Task Force. The third is a softcopy blueprint of a regenerating barrier unit Jinsol recognizes from Dr. Watanabe’s presentation.
Dr. Son wants to make a nanotech barrier for the ship.
Jinsol is at a loss for words. Nanotech has shown some promise withstanding huge levels of force in a controlled environment, and self-repairing units are definitely being studied for medical use. But this is highly impractical given the timeline of the launch, and won’t this end up extremely expensive?
She scratches her head, elbow fixed to the table. "I don't know what to say, Jungeun. Doesn’t this go against—"
"It's just a side project." Jungeun's lips press to a firm line, eyebrows stern. "Nobody else knows about it. And it's not going to get in the way of preparations for the actual mission. But if it works, we won't have to look for a new researcher next year."
Jinsol is about to contradict, point out the blatant futility of the plan. But she stops herself as Dr. Son emerges from the door of the Robotics lab, walks towards the screen.
"Jinsol," he says, mellow voice clear through the meeting tablet's speaker. "Did you see it?"
Words spill out her mouth. "Teach, nanotechnology has already been rejected once—"
"Think of it as an exercise, Jinsol." Dr. Son shakes his head, eyes kind but stern. "It will not be required of you to participate in this project. If it ends up saving a life or two, then well and good, but if it fails to do so, then it will still be of use in the future."
Dr. Son isn't wrong. Jinsol's hand rests on the back of her neck, shoulders heavy with this weight. There's no harm in trying, right? And if the world ever becomes the target of another killer asteroid, at least they'll have something better than a two-person nuclear bomb.
"What do you need me to do?"
Dr. Son walks her through the different files they have available. The plan is this: Jinsol and Dr. Son will construct the blueprints for a contained barrier unit and Jungeun will create a small-scale model of the ship that can be tested for durability. Parallel to this they’ll have to make “helpful” suggestions to the ship schematics to make it more conducive to the plan. Jungeun and Dr. Son will keep Jinsol updated on the progress of the task forces until they have a solid enough proposal for the Divert Project council.
Once the proposal is accepted, they will source and construct enough nanotech units to cover the whole ship with an unstoppable force field, then hope it withstands impact of both the asteroid and nuclear explosions.
Jinsol's watch beeps for dinnertime. She closes her laptop, the essential functions of a barrier unit drafted. "I have to go soon, Teach," she says. She tries to think of something better, something more optimistic. But she's coming up empty, the task too daunting even for her big brain.
"Good luck, Jinsol," says Dr. Son, shutting off the meeting.
***
The schematics for the barrier unit occupies Jinsol's mind over the next two weeks.
It's a good thing, she knows, this thing that Dr. Son is trying to do. But, starting from Tuesday, Jinsol has approximately seven weeks to figure out how exactly to create the reliable equivalent of a space force field, one that can resist several tonnes of nuclear force and radiation, leaving the ship and its inhabitants intact long enough to make it back home.
To Jinsol's credit, she gets in the swing of things. Train the body to exhaustion, work with staff on technical skills and work on the barrier unit in between.
Conditioning is the most predictable. Mornings are spent the same way, with the strength and endurance training varying in the afternoon. Mondays is legs, Wednesday is arms and shoulders, Friday is core. Sooyoung is a strict drill sergeant but the results are obvious: Jinsol gets a surprise in the shower area when, for the first time in years, she sees an ab line.
Technical Skills? After that first day, the Engineering Task Force had finally organized themselves enough to provide a proper regimen for the. Jinsol is given access to five tools now: the safety tethers, the pliers, the power grip tool, and as of recently the cold-welder and the grinder. Time in Zero-G has been increased to thirty minutes a session, with pair sessions to follow.
Engineering is apparently having the hardest time, according to Dr. Son, because a lot of decisions on their needed skill set hinges on the design of the ship.
The scale of programming required for the barrier units also hinges on the design of the ship, though that doesn't stop Jinsol from already fleshing out a flowchart of the ideal nanotech barrier. Each unit needs to operate like a platelet, capable of coordinating with other units to form and maintain a barrier around the ship that is self-maintaining and resilient. To be of any use in space the units have to be able to create a vacuum-proof layer like skin over the ship, yet have to be able to neutralize the force of impact.
How much of this will actually be feasible? Jinsol struggles with that.
Free time is surprisingly fun. Most nights are spent alone together at the common area, Netflix still a boon for the nightly TV show binges running from 7 to 10 P.M., and after the first season of Running Man ends, Heejin procures a detailed list of movies to watch before the launch. Sundays, Jinsol is left to her own devices, time mostly spent on the nanotech barriers and on her laundry.
In the span of two weeks, Hyunjin has managed to grab Jinsol at random intervals to test out new amenities, such as inflatable bowling pins, a brand new Spikeball set, even a unicycle.
It’s fun, and Hyunjin takes every opportunity she can to continue their game of Twenty Questions. As a result Jinsol now knows the following about Hyunjin: that she has an inexplicable fondness for women in cat ears (Jinsol thought she'd chicken out), that her first time having sex outdoors was on Heejin's birthday last year (Jinsol just asked if she ever had sex outdoors), and that her favorite childhood memory is taking in a stray cat (the question was "what's the nastiest thing you've done in a McDonald's", but Jinsol likes this answer the most).
When Jinsol isn't playing games with Hyunjin or working on the barrier unit blueprint, she spends time talking to Heejin in the common area. It's a lot more free-flowing than expected; since Heejin is always sketching or painting at the easel, Jinsol can drift in and out of conversation without the pressure to sustain it. Heejin doesn't bring up Sooyoung again, though Jinsol sees the suspicious squint she wears whenever Jinsol so much as breathes in the captain's direction.
Things just get tense during the Saturday weekly evaluations, which mirror the applications; Heejin wears her competitive edge, and in response, so does Hyunjin. Jinsol feels the weight of Hyunjin's expectations on her shoulders every time, but the ranks stay the same, to Heejin's chagrin.
It's better for the ex-girlfriends on most days, Heejin's animosity mellowing into a casual avoidance.
Medical checkups? After Jinsol's first blood test, she's prescribed a low-sodium, high-protein diet, likely due to her love for instant noodles. It’s delicious, of course, though Jinsol finds herself craving food from her mom’s kitchen once in a while. But that’s just as bad in terms of sodium content.
And the good news is: There's nothing wrong with her knee. Which makes sense, since she did have surgery for it. But it still throbs sometimes, especially with Sooyoung around.
There's a routine now, a steadiness to the passing of time. Jinsol feels it, flowing like the grains of an hourglass, signaled as the scaffolding of the launch site slowly rises to the sky, making its way to the red dot.
Jinsol is wide awake at 2 A.M.. It's the second Sunday of the training period, the last day of October.
Now that she's gotten used to the rhythm of the training, her old sleep habits are coming back. And Sundays are the worst, because she spends most of it holed up in the library, studying Dr. Son's latest updates, including them in their shared barrier unit schematic.
After laying in bed for four hours Jinsol is finally convinced that there are better ways to spend her time.
Such as checking out the dimensions of the latest ship draft. Jinsol pulls herself from beneath her Doraemon quilt. The benefit of being near the door is that she can sneak out on days like this, a habit she had kept from her earlier years as a cadet. She takes her laptop from its spot in her cabinet, creeps out the door of their room.
She sees the soft glow of the humidifier in the darkness of the common area. Smells the lavender. Someone's awake.
Jinsol rubs her cheek. Maybe she should head back to sleep.
But the ship draft. She won't be able to sleep until she sees it. So she takes steps, softly as she can manage, craning her neck at the end of the corridor to spy on whoever else is awake at two in the morning.
Sooyoung, on a couch in the dark, silhouette lit by the sparse moonlight through the window-wall. Her almond eyes meet Jinsol's, widening in surprise.
Shit. Jinsol raises her hands on instinct. It's definitely past curfew, so her brain has to come up with a damn good reason for leaving the sleeping quarters. But isn’t Sooyoung also supposed to follow the curfew rules?
“Jinsol," Sooyoung's tone is exasperated as she cards a hand through her hair. Her face is hard to discern with the lack of light. "It's past curfew."
There’s no reprimand, no strict order to return to the quarters to sleep. Just Sooyoung standing in the dark.
Honestly? Jinsol shouldn't be surprised. Back when they were cadets, Jinsol and Sooyoung had bonded over the very fact that they couldn't sleep at night.
"I could say the same for you," she says. "It's past curfew. Why are you awake?"
Sooyoung slumps back on the couch, the curve of her cheeks catching the window light. "I can't sleep."
Jinsol heard that one before, back in the SCT dormitory from five years before. "That makes two of us," she says, heading to the furthest couch. She's trying not to fall into old habits.
"Your contract mandates you to sleep on time," says Sooyoung, but she makes no move to stop her.
"I'll just take a quick look at something," says Jinsol. Something about the time of the night, the rare openness of Sooyoung's features, makes her slip. "You sleep better when there's someone awake, right?"
Sooyoung's eyes widen for a moment before she relents, sinking further into the cushions. "Just for tonight."
Now Jinsol can't say no. Her body is on autopilot, taking a seat on the couch near the window-wall. Keeping Sooyoung in her periphery.
There’s an email update from Dr. Son: in a month’s time they should be able to finalize the small-scale model of the ship and the blueprints of the barrier units, in time for a report at the end of November.
The timeline of the ship barrier. Will they make it before the launch? What Jinsol has accomplished in two weeks' time is pretty impressive, a linkage code that allows the bots to “adhere” to a surface, forming a self-adjusting layer. Jungeun has already gathered enough materials from the Robotics Unit’s spare assets and should be able to test it out soon.
Sooyoung is asleep. Her face is soft, relaxed, different from the cold neutral of the past weeks. Reminiscent of the past. Sooyoung's slow breaths, the time of the night, make it so easy for Jinsol to forget what happened three years ago.
But it happened. Jinsol had entrusted Sooyoung with her heart, her dreams, only for Sooyoung to tear it all apart. And for what?
Based on the latest schematic, the original plan was to just crash the ship into the asteroid. Jinsol needs to make a recommendation for having the warheads detonated outside of ship premises, otherwise there’s no point to making a barrier in the first place.
She shuts off her laptop, tucks it into her elbow. Leaves Sooyoung asleep in the living room.
Nothing seems to change between them the next day. It's a Conditioning day, which means Jinsol is all but ready to fall asleep by the time 10 P.M. comes.
Except she wakes up in the middle of the night to a rustling from the bed across her own. It's a little less than pitch black in the sleeping quarters but she knows she sees Sooyoung climbing down her bed, heading out to the corridor.
Is this a nightly occurrence? Jinsol taps her watch to check the time. It's half past midnight. Hadn't she fallen asleep? How did she wake up?
She rolls to one side, shuts her eyes tight. She's so groggy, her body heavy from the exertion.
Why is Sooyoung awake?
She opens her eyes, stares at the darkness before her. She's fully awake now. Curious. She has half a mind to check on Sooyoung, maybe even complain about being woken up at such an hour.
But! She can count on one hand the number of proper conversations she shared with Sooyoung in the past weeks that didn't hinge on either Hyunjin or Heejin's presence. Including the one from last night. They're acquaintances, and it's worked so far that Jinsol gives her a wide berth.
She gives up on staying in her bed after ten minutes. This is how she justifies her actions: Sooyoung is their supervisor, and it's for the benefit of the team that their supervisor gets her sleeping habits in order.
It sounds too clinical in her mind, but she doesn't care. She slides off her bed, leaves the sleeping quarters.
The humidifier is open again. When Jinsol enters the common area she sees Sooyoung just about to head to a couch.
"It's past curfew," says Sooyoung, though she doesn't sound too surprised. "You should be asleep."
Jinsol's tone is more accusatory than intended. "You woke me up with your rustling."
Sooyoung's shoulders freeze in a way Jinsol knows to be defensive. A habit from cadet days. "I didn't mean—"
Jinsol cuts her off. "Do you do this every night?"
"It's not that simple." Sooyoung hunches her shoulders, turns away.
It's silent, Jinsol staring at the back of Sooyoung's head. Sooyoung had always been a difficult person to read, something that bit Jinsol in the butt in her earlier days as a cadet.
But Jinsol was a clever girl, picking up the clues Sooyoung let slip, learning how to read and interpret her.
It turns out Sooyoung hadn't changed much from back then, the slow rise and fall of her shoulders exactly how Jinsol remembers them to be.
"There's something on your mind." Jinsol squares her shoulders. "It's keeping you up."
There's only so much mind-reading Jinsol could do, even then, but this used to be enough to get Sooyoung talking. Now all it accomplishes is for Sooyoung to raise her guard. "It's not your problem."
She's right. Jinsol doesn't care about Sooyoung's problem. "If you can't sleep, it'll impact the mission."
"It's not your problem." Sooyoung repeats, turning to her. Even in the low light Jinsol can sense the clenching of her jaw. "Go back to sleep—"
"It obviously is!" Where the fuck is this indignation coming from? "It concerns my training—"
"God!" Sooyoung snaps, meeting her gaze. "It hasn't affected your training yet, has it?"
Jinsol can't believe it. "You're really going to argue with me about the negative effects of sleep deprivation? Don't be an idiot."
"What do you plan to do about it, lecture me to sleep?" Sooyoung's voice is rising in volume and pitch. Frustration. "Leave me alone, Jinsol."
Sooyoung's clenched fist is trembling, steely gaze wavering. Jinsol from four years ago would have recognized the hesitance in her words. Jinsol from two weeks ago wouldn't have cared.
Jinsol finds herself at an awkward in-between.
"Fine." Her feet move on their own, walking to the couch by the window-wall. "But after you fall asleep."
Sooyoung is staring at her.
"What?" Jinsol crosses her arms, plops down on the couch. "Would you rather I actually lecture you to sleep?"
There's something in Sooyoung's eyes that Jinsol can't recognize in the dark. A beat passes before Sooyoung lowers herself to the couch, leans back.
It's silent again. Jinsol hears the hum of the humidifier from the shelf, smells the lavender. Before her, Sooyoung's eyelids are already fluttering shut.
Wasn't this how it happened the first time, five years ago? Sooyoung unable to sleep in the dormitory of the SCT, Jinsol face to face with Sooyoung's feet on the ladder of their shared bunk bed? No common area to sit in but there was a beat-up couch by the laundry and shower area, propped next to a window smaller than the window-wall.
Did I wake you?
No, Jinsol was also having trouble sleeping. It was her first time away from home for so long, after all.
You really like the stars, don't you?
Yes, and Jinsol had once found the stars in Sooyoung's twinkling almond eyes, felt warmth in Sooyoung's laughter. But these are thoughts tarnished by the tearing of her knee.
Argh! Jinsol slaps her cheeks. She’s spiraling. Sooyoung doesn't get to have any weight on her consciousness, especially not now, with the Divert Project on the horizon.
And Sooyoung is asleep now, chest rising and falling in a rhythm so familiar. Jinsol can head to bed, fall asleep, and wake up the next day like nothing ever happened.
Which she does for the most part. It's just hard to ignore Sooyoung climbing down her bed the next night at 2 A.M. when Jinsol herself is wide awake.
Jinsol follows after her. She doesn't even wait for Sooyoung to open the humidifier, calling to her from the corridor. "Trouble sleeping again?"
Sooyoung's hand freezes over the humidifier, caught. "I tried to stay quiet—"
"It's fine. I was awake." Jinsol walks to her, slowly, like approaching a wild animal. No sudden movements. "So you really have been doing this every night?"
Sooyoung drops her hand. "I can arrange for separate lodging if needed—"
"That's not it." Jinsol lines up questions in her head. "Since when?"
She waits for Sooyoung to answer, but no answer comes. Sooyoung doesn't even look her way.
It ticks her off. "Look, Sooyoung. I don't care about the personal shit you're trying to digest under the moonlight, but you really need to get more sleep—"
Sooyoung lashes out. "I'm trying, So—"
She stops herself, corrects herself, "Jinsol."
Fuck. Jinsol breathes, unclenches her jaw. Sooyoung doesn't get to call her that name after everything she's done.
It's quiet again as Jinsol steels herself, shifts her footing. Words can’t capture the dissonance in her chest.
"Sorry." Sooyoung turns to her from the other side of the common area, the side of her face illuminated by sparse window light. "You should have quit the moment you saw me again."
Sooyoung's apology fails to neutralize the venom in Jinsol's response. "Believe me, captain. I would have quit if the world wasn't doomed by an asteroid. But it is. It's the only reason I'm here, making sure you get enough sleep to train me properly. "
There. The bitter taste of her own medicine. Sooyoung is silent, shoulders drooping with shame. Jinsol should feel proud.
So why does she feel so hollow?
Jinsol knows why. It's because, despite everything that happened, Sooyoung still matters to her. Why deny it? It's exactly why the hole in her heart is mottled with gangrene, why after so many years she's still so fucking affected when Sooyoung almost calls her name like before.
Just six more weeks of this torture.
"You know what?" Jinsol's hand rests on the back of her neck. She's going to regret this. "Will staying in the bed beside mine help you sleep?"
It's a valid proposition, one rooted in evidence from prior experience. Because this isn't the first time Sooyoung had trouble sleeping. Neither is it the first time Jinsol is offering to help.
Sooyoung is staring at her with wide eyes that almost, almost catch the window’s light. "We can try that."
Jinsol tries not to think too much about how easily Sooyoung agrees to the proposition. "Yeah. We can try that."
It doesn't take much time for Sooyoung to settle in the bunk to the side of Jinsol's bed. Jinsol doesn't wait for her to finish, already curled up in her own bed and facing the wall. But she hears the rustling, hears the small exhale when Sooyoung’s head finally hits the pillow.
"Goodnight," says Sooyoung from behind her. The voice sounds younger, closer. But there's at least a meter of space in between them.
Jinsol curls the Doraemon quilt tighter around her shoulders. "Night."
To Jinsol's credit, she gets used to it in a couple of days. Train the body to exhaustion, work with staff on technical skills, and work on the barrier units in between. And at night, struggle with the crippling realization that the woman she's resented for a whole three years is once again sleeping beside her.
Except Jinsol doesn't resent her as much? There’s no time to process the latest developments in their dynamic because the ship schematics are finally, finally, finalized.
It had been the pain point of the whole Divert Project that the Engineering Task Force finished the schematics a whole one week late of schedule due to a disagreement on the unloading of the nuclear warhead package.
What won out was to load the warheads into the front of the ship and use it as the point of impact on the asteroid to ensure the integrity of the warheads, which is a big issue that both Jinsol and Dr. Son have to work around. But with that placement, it could be possible to install an eject function to detach the payload and give time for the nanotech barriers to activate right before impact, so much better than if the warheads were installed in the belly of the ship. So it’s both a curse and a blessing.
Ship schematics finalization means finally being able to start on the ship-specific mechanizations of the nanotech: the alloys to use for construction, the volume of barrier units needed to cover the ship’s surface. Dr. Son's email with the attachments is the most excited Jinsol has ever seen him to be. The ship itself is smaller than most, built like a doomsday tank with an emphasis on durability rather than comfort. This makes it a little more realistic for Jinsol to feasibly develop the barrier.
And this is all on top of progressively more difficult training. But Jinsol’s mom taught her how to swim in the East Sea’s waves, how to rise to the surface of any setback.
Well, she raised Jinsol stubborn enough to pursue a lofty aspiration for a career in space, even if she herself had been against it. Which, in hindsight, might have been her mom instincts kicking in.
On the surface, nothing changes. Really. Routine continues, time ticking as the date of the launch approaches. Jinsol has her head in the game now more than ever, the consistent buildup of training like the scaffolding on the launch site, the foundation of a successful mission. And the red dot in the sky is there to remind her of the asteroid’s ever-looming presence.
But something shifts. Here and there. Subtle enough that Jinsol can pretend not to notice.
Sooyoung is still a drill sergeant on Fridays, adding a preposterous amount of oblique muscle training to their core exercises. Core exercises are the most important for zero gravity maneuvering, so it makes sense that Sooyoung dedicates a whole afternoon on the weekly just for that.
It doesn't stop Jinsol from complaining, though.
"Fuck this!"
This is their third plank series in an hour, definitely not their last for the afternoon. She's sweaty enough to fill a fish tank, body shaking as she extends an arm and a foot, each strapped with extra weights. Even Hyunjin is already wobbly from when Jinsol can muster a peek, though Heejin's form is as solid as a rock. Some people just can't have it all.
Sooyoung's boots stop in front of her mat. A heavy hand is on her back, pushing her down. Jinsol pushes back, keeping her form stable.
It lifts. "Good core. Any abs showing up yet?"
"Hell yeah. I can probably fit in one of those fancy crop tops." Jinsol quips as she sucks in a breath, adjusting her plank.
She hears a chuckle overhead. "I can request some for you, then." It's followed by the clap of hands. "Water break."
Jinsol sits up, wiping her face on the collar of her uniform. After weeks of use, the uniform feels like a second skin, her shoes now snug around her feet. It makes for good exercise.
Progress shows in the evaluations on Saturday. The low-sodium diet has done wonders for her cholesterol and blood pressure. But is it truly fair if Hyunjin gets a whole rib-eye steak on the menu while she's served shredded chicken meat and two slices of whole grain bread?
The four of them eat lunch in a circle on the benches of the Simulation Hall, where they have the skills leg of the Saturday evaluations. The weeks have worn down the initial distance between them, with even Hyunjin and Heejin able to last an extended period of time within one meter of each other. It helps as well that Jinsol is acclimatized to Sooyoung’s presence; having her a bed away every night does that.
Jinsol opens her tupperware, and for the first time in the world Chef Ronald Batou fails her.
Fails her is an understatement! Because of all the vegetables he could mix with her stir-fried rice—
Sooyoung is reaching across with the lid of her tupperware. "I can have the carrots."
Problem solved! "Thanks," Jinsol says, transferring each offending piece of vegetable to Sooyoung's tupperware.
When Hyunjin stares at Jinsol like she just grew three heads, she knows she screwed up somewhere. But her partner doesn't say anything for the rest of the evaluations. Probably because Heejin's mood is the worst on Saturdays, though it's a vast improvement from before.
Sunday laundry afternoon is a sacred time.
A whole hour where all she does is dump her clothes into the two available washing machines, stare at the spinning of her laundry as she lets her consciousness take a backseat. It's a habit from the cadet days, when the dormitories were empty of students who visit their families on the weekends.
Jinsol is crouching in front of the washing machine, staring at the churning of her uniforms in sudsy water while piecing together the framework for a more effective force-adjustment algorithm.
With the current programming, barrier units will be able to absorb and divert a total 70% of force exerted on it, capping at a maximum of 600 Newtons per square meter of surface. For the force field barrier to be of any use though, it has to withstand at least 97% of the explosion and requires a cap at least five times as high.
Jungeun is already figuring out what hardware changes are needed to allow for both radiation proofing and increasing the maximum withstandable force, but the barrier unit’s absorption and diversion efficiency depends solely on her.
Jinsol is so deep in thought that she doesn't notice Sooyoung entering the shower area until the rush of a sink faucet startles her.
She jolts, falls over with a strangled sound.
"Oh, did I surprise you?" Sooyoung is drenched from head to toe, rinsing soil and grass off her bare arms. Her steel-toed boots are off her feet and propped up on the sink, mud dripping down on the tiled floor.
Jinsol's eyes glance over the water dripping down Sooyoung's hair, trailing down her jaw and neck. "Did you get mauled by a pig? Or is this Hyunjin’s fault?"
Sooyoung has the amusement crinkle on her cheeks. "Hyunjin made the mistake of challenging me to a water gun death match, since someone had laundry to do."
A laugh bubbles up Jinsol's chest. Before Sooyoung joined the space cadet program she had followed in her dad's footsteps, taking her biology undergrad in the Korea Military academy. "Is that why you're caked with mud? You did those roll techniques?"
Sooyoung's smile widens in the mirror, nose scrunching. "Hyunjin asked for a demonstration." She's rinsing her steel-toed boots in the sink. "The medical team said that my sleep habits improved. Better blood pressure, overall chemistry."
Jinsol falters. She knew this, didn't she? "That's good. I mean, I told you it was bad for your health. So it's good. That your results are better."
Sooyoung’s gaze meets hers through the mirror. There's something there, something unsaid.
The washing machines chime at the same time, pulling Jinsol's attention away.
So yes. Subtle changes. Jinsol doesn't notice them. There are bigger fish to fry, anyway, as the date to the launch approaches. Such as practicing how to launch the ship on Tuesday, six days from Hyunjin's birthday on November 15.
With a little more than five weeks left to spare for the launch, the Engineering Task Force has finally gotten around to revamping the small Zero-G chamber in the workshop, modeling it after the planned layout of the future ship's flight deck. It slots into their Tuesday and Thursday mornings, right after tools training and right before lunch.
Launch before lunch. Though everything is still plastic with only the most basic wiring hooked up to the already-existing student simulation software, it's the closest Jinsol is going to get to the actual feel of the ship, both for her training and for her design of the barrier unit.
But the Engineering team surprises her. The simplified Zero-G chamber looks nothing like it did before, sleek and styled to a flight deck that matches Dr. Son's schematics. There's a wide simulation screen spanning the wall, a full on mock panel complete with thrusters, an LCD navigation radar, other switches used for finer adjustments to the trajectory of the ship.
The pilot's seat is a little less apt, a spare from the Mars Mission of 2046.
There's an itch under her skin at that thought.
Sooyoung is staring at her. There's a question again, one Jinsol can't understand, and her gut tells her that she shouldn't try to. She's been doing so well the past week, no nasty flashbacks or angry outbursts. Head in the asteroid-crashing game.
"I really think there's something," Heejin's low voice carries surprisingly well in the small room, and Jinsol finds her on the other side of the room, talking to Hyunjin.
It seems like an intense conversation, but Hyunjin is listening intently, not stubbornly trying to convince Heejin of something. Has something shifted between them?
Jinsol indulges her curiosity. "You're talking again?"
Hyunjin's eyes widen, staring at Jinsol as she haphazardly slaps a hand on Heejin's mouth. She shakes her head vigorously.
The moderator calls them to the vacuum door of the Zero-G chamber, with Sooyoung taking the reins of the training inside. Hyunjin had mentioned before, and repeatedly, how much she loved Sooyoung's class. How much of it will she see today?
There’s a visible shift in the captain's demeanor as she inspects the panels for the first time. As a cadet Sooyoung took to flight simulation like a fish to water, having taken up aircraft piloting units in her undergrad.
Her vision blurs, a Sooyoung with hair past her shoulder blades, a small smile on her face as she teaches Jinsol the proper way to buckle the pilot's seat belt.
You will never reach the stars.
There's a hot bubbling rising up her stomach, questions that she buried years ago crawling out of their graves.
She takes a deep breath, stomping out the emotion because she's flying out of the stratosphere in 36 days and Sooyoung is going to stay on Earth.
"Hyunjin," Sooyoung's voice breaks through her thoughts. "Take the seat and familiarize yourself with it."
Sooyoung had been the one to teach Hyunjin and Heejin and it shows in the way Hyunjin eagerly straps herself into the chair, listening to Sooyoung's one-on-one instructions. It also shows in the fond smile that shows up on the captain's face when she thinks no one is looking.
It makes sense. Hyunjin was Sooyoung's student once, charge now, soon to be a gravestone unless Jinsol actually accomplishes the barrier plan.
Which she decides to think about right now. If there's an LCD panel provided for tracking, it means there will be sensors for checking the distance of the asteroid. Jinsol should create a protocol for timing the release of the warheads based on the distance, running the numbers when to raise the barriers right after. She should also tell Dr. Son to convince Engineering that control sticks are too unreliable; a button would be easier to press and hold, and easier to calibrate to the needs of the program.
"Jinsol." Sooyoung is staring at her, the pilot seat empty. "Your turn."
Jinsol tries not to lose her train of thought as she moves to the pilot's seat, buckling herself into place. The panel is made of a thick plastic, though the final version will probably be made of ceramic. Following the timeline, the ship should be ready by the end of November, giving Jinsol two weeks to train before the actual launch. She inspects the switches on the rightmost side of the panel. She should investigate the code of the ship, see if she can make some improvements while inserting the module for the barrier units—
Sooyoung's hand ghosts over her own, burning like fire. Because for a split second Jinsol is an overeager cadet vying for the 2046 Mars Mission and Sooyoung is younger, dislodging that dream from her chest with the softness of a touch.
"Shit!" Jinsol jolts back, overwhelmed. Sooyoung's hand jumps back, raised, the captain's almond eyes wide with something unrecognizable.
"I—I need to pee," Jinsol fumbles with the buckles of the belt, scrambles off the pilot's seat. Her right knee throbs as she places weight on it, dashing out the Zero-G chamber.
Jinsol hides in the farthest toilet stall right outside the Simulation Hall. Legs tucked in her arms as she sits on the lid of the toilet bowl, head leaning on the ceramic tiles of the wall.
The last time Jinsol sat here she was nursing a throbbing knee, reeling from scathing words and eyes as cold as ice. The hollow in her chest is haunting her again, stronger than ever, but this time she can't even be mad.
What a fucking time to get emotional.
"Unnie!" It's Heejin's voice accompanied by a heavy bang of the restroom door. "Unnie!"
There's a knock on each of the toilet stall doors until it reaches Jinsol's stall. Then the knock becomes a jostling of the lock.
"Leave me alone, asshat!" Jinsol's words are sharp in her own ears, making her wince. "I'm just constipated."
A hand reaches under the toilet stall, Heejin being so unhygienic as she sweeps her arm left and right. "You sure don't smell like you're pooping!"
Argh. Heejin is a stubborn idiot, and it goes against Jinsol’s good conscience to let her wipe the floor of a toilet stall.
"Fine." Jinsol nudges Heejin's hand aside with a foot, bracing herself for a lecture when she unlocks the door.
Heejin is staring at her, eyebrows furrowed, arms crossed.
Jinsol’s walls rise up. Heejin is the nosy type, but it will take a lot more than insistence to pry her guard open. "What? No questions?"
A beat passes before Heejin relents, to Jinsol’s surprise. She uncrosses her arms, shrugs her shoulders. "I'm not gonna ask about it. Are you okay?"
"That's—"Jinsol stops, at a loss for words. Heejin's round eyes aren't probing at all. "Yeah. I'm fine."
"You sure?" Heejin looks to the door. "You don't have to head back yet. I can say that you're so badly constipated—"
"No—wait." Jinsol shakes her head. "I can go. Just give me a minute." To think a little more.
Heejin nods, leans on the wall of the restroom.
Jinsol does the same, collecting herself. The tile wall of the restroom stall is cold on the back of her head.
She has five weeks left before she's flying away. Five weeks. She just needs to pull it together.
"You're a lot like Hyunjin, you know?" Heejin is filling the silence with an offhand conversation, and it helps. "You'd both rather carry your own shit than share it with others."
Jinsol snorts. She's probably right.
When she returns to the Zero-G chamber, Sooyoung nods at her from beside the training panel. Her eyes are cold again, posture rigid, and Jinsol honestly prefers it like this.
Doesn't she?
In the afternoon they begin the pair Zero-G drills. Their sessions have extended to an hour each, with pair work, Hyunjin and Jinsol alternating with Heejin and Sooyoung during the recovery period. After all, navigating zero gravity is a lot more difficult with another person in the mix.
Jinsol finds that an hour suspended in zero gravity passes faster with Hyunjin around. The moderator hands them a single task each round, such as recycling used water for consumption, then leaving the rest of the time up to them. Hyunjin's face swells easily though the swelling recedes ten minutes into the simulation time, but otherwise she makes for a capable partner who just so happens to know how to balance water droplets on her nose.
After the session Hyunjin watches her, even when they sit on the benches. It seems like Heejin is right, that she and Hyunjin are cut from the same cloth, since Hyunjin doesn't bring up what happened at the flight deck. Jinsol prefers this too, though the silence gives her mind space to return to what happened at the flight deck, what happened in the past.
To avoid that, she preoccupies her mind with whatever it can get its hands on: reciting the alphabet backwards, figuring out the greatest common factor of two random numbers, counting the number of times her right knee throbs whenever Sooyoung glances at her—
Nope. Jinsol refuses to think about that. It helps that Heejin looks at her every five or so minutes, an eyebrow raised in question until she gives one sign or another that she's fine.
It's a quiet afternoon, extending to a quiet evening when Jinsol comes online for her conference meeting with Dr. Son. Her laptop is open, today's agenda being the streamlining of the force-adjustment algorithm.
Jungeun had already accomplished a rudimentary model of the barrier, a nanodocket forming a force field layer over her right arm. In theory she can dent a five centimeter-thick wall of steel with the barrier, though there’s no time or means by which they can test it out in person.
It's just Jungeun today, her old research partner alone in the Robotics lab, taking apart the nanodocket to check on the contents. Jinsol doesn’t have a clear view of the nanobot mass inside, though she imagines it operates the same way: tiny bots moving like liquid, emitting signals to change configuration in response to external stimuli.
Jungeun looks up from her desk, a smile on her face that shifts to concern. "Did something happen?"
Jinsol is already trying out a new code module for the barrier unit on her laptop. Even if she could get the code streamlined and working, there's still the question of whether or not it would work once hooked up to the ship. They can only really test it once the ship is done, but by then Dr. Son should have a substantial enough proposal to convince the Divert Project team to climb aboard the idea. "What do you mean?"
"You just look like you have a lot on your mind." Jungeun sets aside the nanodocket, crosses her arms on the desk. "Is your ACL being shitty again?"
"No," Jinsol's hand climbs up to the back of her neck, rests there. She knows where Jungeun is getting at. "Why?
"You have the same face on, Jinsol. When you were talking about your accident." Jungeun pulls a current analyzer from outside of the tablet screen, plugs some wires into it. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Jinsol grimaces. "Not really."
Jungeun shrugs. "Okay."
They stay like that, quiet, Jinsol working on the force-adjusting algorithm as best as she can. But she's going in circles with the code, and it seems like any flash of insight she has is dampened by the part of her mind that's still stuck on what happened in the flight deck. Her mind isn't doing much better, looping again and again what had happened, Sooyoung's soft touch and cold gaze. It’s not good to bottle it up.
She closes her laptop. "I have a theoretical story for you, Jungeun."
Jungeun nods, not looking up from her current analyzer. "Shoot."
"There's a girl, a country bumpkin who loved the stars. It started when her mom got her a telescope for her seventh birthday. She loved them ever since. And she decided to be an astronaut even if her mom didn’t want her to, so she made plans for that. Did well in school, passed a university in Seoul."
Jungeun hums, screwing the lid off the monitor. "Keep going."
Jinsol feels like an idiot. "Nevermind."
"No. Keep talking about the country bumpkin." Jungeun reaches into the monitor, rearranging some wires. "It's just a story to pass the time."
"Fine." Jinsol scratches her head. "She graduated from a top university in Seoul, passed the KARI entrance exam with flying colors, thinking of nothing except getting on the Mars 2046 mission. Her life dream, to see the stars up close."
"Keep going."
"But she meets a—a person. A really quiet person. A military graduate also applying to be an astronaut. Her sister was an astronaut too, already on a mission to the moon."
Jinsol winces, because it's way too easy to figure out who she's talking about. Because there are only so many astronauts sent to the moon, even less astronauts with a younger sister from the space cadet Batch 2046.
But Jungeun doesn't seem to notice, or if she does, she doesn't call attention to it. "Yeah?
Jinsol appreciates that. "They bond, because they're both stuck in the dormitories on the weekends, and the military graduate stays up at night thinking about her sister on the moon. The country bumpkin—"
"Can we just call them bumpkin and bitch?"
'Hey!" Jinsol laughs. Jungeun has always been so easy to talk to, a breath of fresh air. "Fine. Bumpkin and bitch.
“Bumpkin sees bitch sneaking out at night, decides to stay up with her until she falls asleep. Bitch warms up to her, starts hanging out with her even in the daytime. It turns out bitch has a really funny sense of humor and bumpkin really likes making her laugh—"
"So bumpkin has a crush on bitch—"
"No—" Jinsol raises a finger, then lets it drop. "I mean, bumpkin used to only think about the stars all the time, but bitch was very kind and funny, thoughtful. Also really good at biochemistry, which bumpkin needed a lot of help with.
"Then, in their second year of class, bumpkin qualifies for valedictorian, which will bring her to the 2046 Mars Mission. Bumpkin is really excited, because this is her dream. But she's also torn, because—because, well," Jinsol chews her lip, trying to piece the words together in her head, "the stars weren't as exciting anymore."
Jungeun nods. She's done tinkering with the analyzer, going back to the nanodocket. "Even if it was her dream for so long?"
"Exactly." Jinsol opens her laptop. There's something she wants to check for the conversion equation of force, if the nanobots could implement a shorter algorithm. "It's been her dream for so long, but when it was finally within reach, she hesitated to grab it."
Because there was suddenly something more important and more immediate than the stars.
"But—and this is the most confusing part—bitch suddenly wanted that exact same thing."
"Oh shit." Jungeun's eyebrows quirk as she checks the monitor of the nanodocket. "I knew she was a bitch."
Jinsol's hands stop over her laptop keyboard. "I don't get it either. All of a sudden she became competitive, mean, cold. And she was pushing me—"
She stops, recalibrates. "Pushing bumpkin away.
"Bumpkin felt betrayed. And mad. So they started fighting with their ranking, and it went on for a whole week until bumpkin confronted her about it during one of the team building sessions.
Can't keep up? You know you can't beat me.
"Bitch was goading her into a fight." Jinsol's vision is shifting, drawing from a hollow in her chest. "And bumpkin fell for it."
Just give up.
You will never reach the stars.
Jinsol is a cadet again, hands balled into fists, blood pounding in her ears. Sooyoung is younger, sneering at her, gaze cold. Standing between her and the garbage chutes.
In Sooyoung’s hand is the gas mask Jinsol needs to pass the exam.
She launches herself across the simulation cabin, spinning straight into a wall—
"Jinsol." Jungeun has been calling her name. "You aren’t moving.”
Shit. Jinsol's head is spinning. "Thanks. I completely zoned out."
"Do you still want to talk about bumpkin and bitch?"
Jinsol would rather not. "There's not much left after that. Bumpkin gets in an accident and is forced to drop out. Bitch gets what she wants, but doesn't go on the Mars Mission. Instead she joins the military for a year, comes back to KARI, and takes a ground job well below her qualifications. They never become friends again."
Jinsol tries to start on the algorithm once more, but nothing is coming to mind.
She slams her laptop closed. "Look, bumpkin thought she was fine. But then stuff happens and bitch comes waltzing back into her life, and it turns out that bumpkin can't get over what happened to her. "
"Are you angry at her?" asks Jungeun, staring at her from across the screen.
Jinsol surprises herself. "No. I just want to know why she did it."
Sooyoung doesn't sleep beside Jinsol's bed that night. Jinsol tries to ignore it, curled up in her Doraemon quilt, but she hears the rustling, sees the sliver of light that comes from the door as Sooyoung opens it and closes it.
Jinsol's body moves of its own volition.
"Sooyoung." Jinsol is in the corridor, Sooyoung's hand already on the humidifier at the common area.
Sooyoung hears her though, puts her hand down. Turns to face her in the darkness.
Jinsol starts. "Why didn't you go to Mars?"
"It doesn't matter." Sooyoung looks down, away.
"It matters to me." Jinsol feels the anger in her chest, boiling hot. "You fought me for the slot. Why didn't you go to Mars?"
Sooyoung's voice is dangerously low. "It doesn't matter, Jinsol."
Fists tighten. "You won't even tell me why?"
"It doesn't matter—"
"You fucked me up!" Jinsol's voice is raw in her throat. "You fucked me up just to get that slot! And you're telling me it doesn't matter?"
"I know I fucked up, Sol!" Sooyoung throws her fist down. Her voice is shrill, strained. Eyes on the ground. "Every day you're on this mission I'm reminded of that—"
"Then tell me why!" Jinsol's pulse throbs in her ears. "I want to know, Sooyoung—"
"I can't!" Sooyoung looks up, the expression on her face so unexpected, so broken. It stops Jinsol in her tracks. "Sol, please. I can't."
It's silent. The November chill stings Jinsol’s bare feet. Her right knee burns with pain.
Sooyoung is wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
"I hated you for so long, Sooyoung." Tears climb up Jinsol's throat, blur her vision. "I don't want to hate you anymore."
Almond eyes, shining and wet. "I'm sorry, Sol."
Jinsol breaks at that. Tears are pouring, legs folding up as she drops to the floor. Her heart hurts, hurts, hurts with an aching hollow.
Because there's so much grief, regret, anger with nowhere to go. She's here, trying to understand when she should have tried three years ago and it's still the same, Sooyoung keeping her out.
It's cold, and heavy, and all she can do is cry until her body stops shaking from the sobs.
You really like the stars, don't you?
Something warm and heavy is draped around her shoulders. Jinsol recognizes the texture: her Doraemon quilt.
Sooyoung is sitting on the floor, just across the corridor, long arms wrapped around long legs, head leaning on the wall. A strip of light from the window catches the side of her face, down her cheek to her jaw. Stripped of all pretenses, what's left on Sooyoung's face is a wistful softness.
It stirs a lost memory. Sooyoung, younger, so much closer, eyes twinkling with warm fondness. There used to be bitterness at the final dregs of her recollection, harsh, twisting, stabbing in her chest. But the blades of Jinsol's familiar hurt are dulled by the despondency of Sooyoung's gaze.
It hurts, to still be kept at a distance even when Jinsol lays herself bare. But she gathers herself, draws a long breath. "You're so unfair."
Sooyoung averts her gaze.
"You should have told me then. Or in the years I ignored you. Now I have to deal with all this baggage right before the launch—"
"You should sleep, Jinsol—"
"I should." Jinsol pulls the quilt tightly around her. "But I'm going to sit here and mope, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."
"God." Sooyoung cards a hand through her hair, hiding her face. "You make this so difficult—"
"Just for tonight, Sooyoung. I'll be back to normal tomorrow." Jinsol leans on the wall, tucking the quilt around her neck. It's cold on the floor. "Go open your humidifier or something."
Sooyoung gazes at Jinsol through her lashes, looking like the weight of the world is on her shoulders. If there were more light, maybe Jinsol could understand what her eyes were trying to say.
But it's dark when Sooyoung scoots closer, close enough that her knees line up with Jinsol's. They sit centimeters apart, Sooyoung curled up with her arms tucked around her legs, Jinsol slouched on the wall.
They've done this before—before the mission, before the accident. In the quiet nights of the empty dormitory, before Jinsol realized that the stars’ warmth could not match that of Sooyoung’s, next to her.
"Just for tonight," says Sooyoung, eyes fixed on Jinsol as they flutter shut.
Yeah. Jinsol's eyelids are weighted by sleep. There’s warmth from the quilt around her shoulders, her hand where it crawls to meet another. They've done this before. Fall asleep.
***
Jinsol wakes up to an insistent tapping of her shoulder. Fuck, it's too early in the morning; she's feeling really muggy and her back hurts from sitting on the floor for too long.
Fuck. She's on the hallway floor. She cracks her eyes open, coming face to face with Hyunjin.
"Jinsol-unnie," mutters Hyunjin as she taps on her shoulder, "the hallway isn’t your bed."
Jinsol blinks, uncurling her legs. Sooyoung isn't beside her. "What time is it?"
"Six thirty in the morning." Hyunjin is crouching beside her, resting her arms on her knees. "Why are you asleep in the hallway?"
Jinsol rubs her eyes, scrounges for an answer. "Floor was cold and comfy today." Her arms are stiff. She makes a show of stretching them overhead. "Can you pull me up?"
“Okay.” Hyunjin pushes herself up, then pulls Jinsol up by the wrists. "Do you want some coffee?"
"Huh?" Jinsol blinks again. She crouches to pick up the Doraemon quilt from the floor. "Since when did we have coffee?"
"Heejin brought a French press with her." Hyunjin shrugs like it's the most normal thing in the world. "Though she only makes for herself most of the time."
Jinsol smells it now, the burnt roast coming from the kitchen. "Is that even allowed?"
Hyunjin shrugs again. "Teach didn't say anything."
Hyunjin's footsteps are soft behind Jinsol as they head to the kitchen. On the sink is a half-empty French press, coffee piping hot inside it. How long has it been since she's had some?
Hanging off the rack are two dripping mugs, which she grabs shortly after draping her quilt on the kitchen counter. "Did you have coffee already?"
"I don't drink coffee," says Hyunjin from the kitchen door.
Jinsol pours coffee into one mug, steam rising to meet her face. Rejuvenating. "It's been ages. Damn." There doesn't seem to be any sugar or milk in the kitchen counter, but the sip of coffee is a welcome change from what has been weeks of water. It's warm and bitter, waking her up.
"I'll see you at the ping pong tables, Jinsol-unnie," says Hyunjin, closing the door of the kitchen before leaving her alone with her thoughts.
Jinsol diverts her energy somewhere else. Pulling open all the drawers, because she has a weak stomach and drinking pure coffee is pouring acid on acid. There's nothing in the empty fridge, nothing in the cupboards. Heejin did seem like the kind of girl to drink her coffee black, but seriously? Not even sugar?
She settles with mixing the coffee with some water, drinking what she can before dumping the rest of it down the sink. Thankfully there's a sponge and some dishwashing liquid, and the kitchen counter is as clean as it was before.
Jinsol returns to the sleeping quarters, dumping the Doraemon quilt on her bed. It's autopilot by now, changing out of her sleep clothes into her uniform, tying her hair.
The month is November, fall going into winter, so Jinsol even has a free Divert Project winter coat. But today is a Wednesday, which means they spend it all indoors.
Jinsol heads out of the sleeping quarters, towards the activities hall. Heejin is at the easel, painting a watercolor wash over her canvas, and Sooyoung is nowhere to be seen.
Time for some ping pong.
Hyunjin has already begun with drills, bouncing ping pong balls off the wall. She hears Jinsol enter the hall, nods towards the table.
They start like a well-oiled machine, Hyunjin leading her through their usual sets. It's a good omen for what's to come, the coordination and the understanding. Between the random conversations, ping pong drills, and all the training they spend together, Jinsol would trust Hyunjin with a terminal ride to space.
"Can I ask you something, Jinsol-unnie?" Hyunjin's eyes are on the ball as it passes back and forth between them, the motion of her swing like a bobblehead figurine. The weeks of ping pong practice show in the range of techniques employed in their back and forth.
Jinsol sends a forehand with topspin across the ping pong table, which Hyunjin catches easily. "Of course." Ping pong drills are always filled with conversations ranging from mundane to philosophical, whatever Hyunjin feels like talking about. "What about, Hyunjin?"
Hyunjin grunts with one particularly heavy return. "It might be personal. " Her face is blank, focus less on the drills and more on whatever is in her head.
"Yeah." Jinsol nods, shifting her weight to the left side for a backhand lob. "About Heejin?"
"No." Hyunjin deflects the ball with a backspin. "About your injury."
Jinsol's paddle flies out her hands. "What?"
The ball bounces to her side of the table, off the corner. There's a crash somewhere near the basket of random knick-knacks.
Yeesh. Jinsol reaches down to pick up the ball.
"I'm sorry for asking." There's a slight whimper in Hyunjin's mellow voice, eyebrows creased by a molecular fraction. It makes Jinsol feel like the worst person in the world. "But I think it's important."
Jinsol winces as she walks to her paddle. "It's fine, I had surgery for it. So ask away."
Hyunjin's voice is meek, but carries across the room. "Is it related to your beef with Teach? From the flight simulation yesterday—"
"About that," Jinsol cuts her off, "it's not a big deal—”
"Jinsol-unnie." Hyunjin sets her paddle down. Jinsol sees the quiet stubbornness in her expression. Oh shit. This is her bulldozer mode. "We're partners. You should tell me about it."
Now this, this is too personal. "Hyunjin," Jinsol needs to think of an excuse, but the coffee is making her come up short. "It's not that easy."
"I can wait." Hyunjin shifts her weight to one leg, stares at Jinsol. She looks like she plans to stay that way until Jinsol spills.
Argh, shit. The stare is unnerving her. And Hyunjin is never this stubborn about anything unimportant, which makes everything worse.
Jinsol pulls the ponytail out of her hair, shaking it out. "Why do you want to know, anyway?"
"I'm worried about you." Hyunjin's face is transparent with concern. "And about Teach."
Jinsol's stomach flips at the mention of Sooyoung. "So?" She combs fingers through her hair, pulling it up into a new ponytail. "Because I'll warn you now. It's not a big deal—"
"Stop changing the subject, Jinsol-unnie." Hyunjin presses her lips to a fine line. "I just want to know what happened."
And that’s Jinsol’s cue to give up. Her arms fall to her side, ponytail dangling from her fingers. "Fine. So I’m going to tell you my tragic backstory in the activities hall?"
"We can move somewhere else—"
"That was a rhetorical question." Jinsol slaps her hand to the base of her skull. Vulnerability is so foreign. "Can you tell that I'm having a hard time with this?"
Hyunjin nods. "We can sit on some mats."
Jinsol stands and stares as Hyunjin speedwalks to the yoga mats on the side of the hall, pulling one of them to the middle, unfurling it before sitting down. Activities hall picnic, just like the first day.
Hyunjin stares at her expectantly.
Jinsol walks closer, parks her butt on the other end of the yoga mat. "Where to start?"
"Up to you—"
"That was rhetorical—you know what, fine." Jinsol stares at the door of the activities hall. There's approximately twenty minutes to breakfast. "Just shoot."
Hyunjin's gaze flits around with earnest care. "Jinsol-unnie," she says, then she reconsiders. Purses her lips. "What happened to your knee?"
Here she goes. Jinsol stretches her foot out, rolls up the pant leg over her right knee. The scars stare at her nonchalantly. "See these three dots here?" She points to each of them. "Arthroscopy. I tore my ACL in cadet training, so they poked tiny cameras inside my knee and did surgery like that. Took five months and a whole lot of advanced rehab for me to recover. Barely made it in time to retake my second year."
Hyunjin nods, eyes glued to the scars. "How did you tear it?"
"It's idiotic, really." Jinsol scoffs halfheartedly. Even now she marvels at the stupidity of it all. "I crashed into a wall of the simulation cabin then tore my knee during an evaluation exam."
"And Teach is involved in what happened?"
Jinsol grimaces. "You can say that."
Hyunjin's face falls. "Okay."
The conversation drops into silence, Hyunjin staring at nothing in particular. Jinsol takes this opportunity to roll her pant leg down. Is Hyunjin thinking about what happened three years ago? What does she think of Sooyoung?
Gosh. Jinsol smacks the back of her head. Now that she's back to thinking about Sooyoung, her brain decides to go full-force recalling what happened last night.
I don't want to hate you anymore, Sooyoung! Seriously? She sinks further into her embarrassment. And all that jazz about being normal in the morning? What was she even talking about? Maybe she should have toned down from bingeing those Nicholas Sparks romance movies.
Oh shit.
"Anyway, Hyunjin," She tries to drown the realization with the sound of her big mouth, "what happened in the past is history. My knee is as good as new and Sooyoung is a competent supervisor. There are some blips here and there—"
"Were you friends?" Hyunjin asks point blank, catching her off guard. "I think you were, if you're still hurt by what happened. "
Is it called friends when they would stay up at night sharing dreams and fears until sunrise? When they would curl up in the same bed, hold hands when night terrors come? When years later it still hurts to be pushed away?
You really like the stars, don't you?
"Jinsol-unnie," says Hyunjin, "you're zoning out again."
Jinsol blinks. Right. "Something like that."
Hyunjin stares at her with what looks like understanding. Hums with what sounds like comfort. Places a hand on her shoulder with what feels like sympathy.
It's nice, in an awkward Hyunjin way. But it just drives home the point that Jinsol is clearly in deep shit.
A beep on the watch interrupts them, the screen lighting up in red before buzzing. That's not the breakfast sound.
It's a call to the conference room, an emergency meeting from Dr. Watanabe.
"Oh shit," says Jinsol, just as the activities hall doors slam open.
Heejin, chest heaving. "Conference room."
Hyunjin is up in moments, dashing to the door.
Jinsol is seconds behind her. Because holy shit, why is Dr. Watanabe calling?
If she goes the optimist route, it would be Dr. Son's success in convincing the Divert Project of the nanotechnology barrier plan, but that's still three weeks away in the timeline. She enters the conference room before the door closes behind her.
Heejin and Hyunjin are already seated near the front. Sooyoung is hunched over a laptop, opening the communications interface for the conference meeting with Dr. Watanabe. A frown has etched itself on her face, dread that probably echoes Jinsol's own.
Sooyoung's gaze lifts to meet Jinsol's, eyes flitting all over her face. Shit, this isn't the time, but the conversation with Hyunjin is making her stomach do flips again.
Jinsol grits her teeth, takes the seat beside Sooyoung by the front. Here goes.
The meeting is chaos when they join the call. It's a chorus of different languages, the projection filling up with screens of different faces so small they're unrecognizable. Jinsol pulls up a meeting tablet, checks the list of attendees. There are representatives from every functioning government, some which Jinsol recognizes from the very first day of the Divert Project.
Dr. Watanabe fills the screen, the voices muting in one fell swoop. "Thank you all for coming," he says in his deep baritone, though it shakes at the end. Despite the pixelation of the screen Jinsol sees the sweat on his brow which he wipes with a white kerchief. "Apologies for the short notice, but we have a very important announcement to make.
"Our monitoring crew has picked up a change in the speed of Asteroid X-2050 as it caught briefly on an asteroid field, speeding up its travel to Earth by twenty-four days. There is a new impact date now, December 15, 2049."
Jinsol's blood is pounding in her ears. What about the sourcing of additional nanotech? The timeline of their training? Wasn't the original ship launch supposed to be on December 17?
Dr. Watanabe hears none of her thoughts, continues. "In response to this change in schedule, we will be shifting the new launch date to November 29, 2049."
The meeting is adjourned. Jinsol's mind is going at impossible speeds, following the chain reaction brought about by the new launch date. Their training will be the easiest to adjust, but the ship construction was scheduled for December 3.
Not to mention the sourcing of enough nanotech to even get the plan off the ground; it's still so far from finished, and testing it out on the ship is vital to even getting the project approved.
Jinsol's fingertips go cold, the chill crawling from her hands, to her arms, to her throat.
She's really going to die.
Hyunjin's head is bowed, Heejin's eyes glued to the screen.
Beside her, Sooyoung drops into the chair, massaging her temples. "God." She inhales sharply, stands up. Jinsol marvels at the sudden composure. "Let's discuss over breakfast, everyone."
A call comes up on the shared screen. Dr. Son.
"Sooyoung," says Jinsol, locking eyes with the captain, "I'll just answer this. You go ahead."
Sooyoung looks at her, nods her head. Her eyes are unfocused, her mind somewhere else. She nods to Hyunjin and Heejin, leads them out the room.
Once alone, Jinsol swipes open the meeting tablet, answers the call.
"Jinsol." Dr. Son's face shows up on the screen, worry etched on his brow. He looks around. "You're alone."
"Teach," says Jinsol, "the project—"
"We need to present next Monday." He shakes his head, and Jinsol knows how bad their chances are. "I need you to prepare my slides, finish whatever you can by Monday morning. We can try with what we have."
There's a quick discussion to get their bearings of the available data, figuring out where else Jinsol can tie loose ends before the presentation on Tuesday. Listening to it though, Jinsol's stomach churns with the realization that the barrier plan is as good as a lost cause, as it’s impossible to procure enough of the specialized technology to respond to the new timeline.
Jinsol nods before Dr. Son drops the call. The screen is empty, a familiar view of infinite darkness. Human finitude is so much more dreadful when it's three weeks ahead of schedule.
Her watch beeps, 8 A.M.. There's a lot to do.
Breakfast is already set up by the time she makes it to the common area. Someone had rolled up the whiteboard from the activities hall, Heejin already working on a grid as Hyunjin eats from her bowl of muesli.
Sooyoung's eyes meet hers from the corner of the room, her hand on a cup of water being emptied out on the Swiss cheese plant. She heads to the low table, passing a tupperware to Jinsol. "Working breakfast."
Jinsol parks herself on the couch by the window as Sooyoung begins their breakfast meeting.
Heejin writes as Sooyoung dictates, plotting out each day on the whiteboard. There's nineteen days between today and the launch date. Following the original schedule, it would mean eight conditioning days, five technical skills days, three medical checkups, and three Sundays.
Gosh, those are all single digit numbers. Jinsol starts eating.
Sooyoung speaks calmly. "After today, Wednesdays should be Technical Skills. We need ten more days to follow the original curriculum. "
Heejin follows her instructions on the board, labelling the days. "How about Sundays?"
"Sundays are yours." Sooyoung crosses her arms, staring at the grid. "This Friday for Technical. Conditioning twice a week, Monday and Friday afterwards. That makes eight days for Technical."
It's not going to fit, so Jinsol butts in. "We should give up the next two Sundays, Sooyoung. We're behind, we'll need to ramp up the Zero-G training."
Sooyoung meets her with warmer eyes than expected. "Those last rest days are yours no matter how tight the timeline is. We can forgo one medical checkup for technical."
Heejin's eyebrows furrow. "In that case, can we make November 15 a rest day? It's a Monday, but it's Hyunjin's birthday."
Oh? Jinsol takes another bite of muesli. From the other couch, Hyunjin is silently stirring her own bowl.
"We can do that," says Sooyoung. "Conditioning on 14th. Medical Checkup on 13th and 27th, forgoing 20th for the extra Technical."
"Sweet, thanks Teach." Heejin turns to Hyunjin with a smile, but it falters because Hyunjin is focused on her bowl. Something shifts in her expression.
Sooyoung's watch buzzes, a red notification. She reads it for a moment before turning to everyone. "Morning off. " She turns to Jinsol with a silent gaze, breaking it promptly as she heads to the conference room.
This leaves Jinsol alone with the weird tension between Heejin and Hyunjin.
Hyunjin is stirring her muesli, Heejin staring at her with a hodgepodge of emotions on her face.
The awkwardness makes it very easy for Jinsol to finish her muesli, at any rate.
Heejin makes the first move, wordlessly walking up to Hyunjin, pulling her by the hand towards the sleeping quarters.
Well.
For the rest of the morning, Jinsol holes herself up in the library, laptop on the round table and various textbooks piled like walls around her. She goes through the files of her laptop, tying up whatever she can of the blueprint’s loose ends, typing notes for what functionalities she and Dr. Son overlooked, where Jungeun can show a live simulation of the nanotech.
She is calmer than she expected to be. After all, if there's anyone who's equipped to cram a proposal deck that may or may not determine her life and death, it's her. And it's not like this wasn't expected; Dr. Son did give her that whole speech about decisions to regret and whatnot before everything happened. This is just an extra nail in the coffin.
There's a knock on the library door. Hyunjin? Because Heejin never knocks and Sooyoung never visits. Jinsol has a hand over her laptop, ready to close it if somebody enters.
Oh, it's Heejin. Heejin stays at the doorway, eyes on the doorknob she fidgets with. "Hey, unnie."
Jinsol closes her laptop. "How's the coffee smuggler turned secretary?"
Heejin enters, closes the door behind her. She knocks her head back. "Today is overwhelming."
"You said it.” Jinsol pushes at one of the seats with her foot. “Want to sit?"
Heejin takes it, pulling the seat Jinsol offered and sitting down. Heejin has long arms despite her height, reaching easily for a Quantum Physics book piled beside Jinsol's laptop. She opens it, resting her chin on the table as she reads the first pages. "Is that the project Dr. Son asked your help with?"
Jinsol has to be careful with her words. "Yeah." She grabs another Physics textbook, cuts it open on her laptop. Wave mechanics for the diversion of the warhead’s explosive force. "Teach wants to squeeze every last drop of my brain before I launch."
Heejin nods, chin still on the table. She looks at Jinsol with round eyes. "Does it scare you?"
She straightens her posture, thinks. What does Heejin want from this conversation? "Who wouldn't be scared? It's an end-of-the-world scenario, the fate of humanity resting on my shoulders. If I screw up, it's over."
Then Jinsol blinks. "Oh wait, did you mean the whole dying in space thing?"
Heejin purses her lips, then hides her face on the table. Her mumble is barely audible. "Now that the whole calendar got moved up, I—I've decided. About the mission, I don't—"
She trails off, hands stretching further along the table.
Jinsol completes her sentence. "You don't want to go?"
Heejin nods on the table. "Hyunjin, it's gonna hurt so much." Her sniffle is wet, and when she looks up Jinsol sees a runny nose and red splotches on her face.
"But I don’t want to leave my parents behind. My dad has cancer and my mom's health isn't great either. "
Heejin is human too.
“Good thing I signed up, then." Jinsol reaches over, ruffles Heejin's hair. It's the first time she does it, ever, and it looks like it lifts Heejin's spirits a little bit. "Does this mean you're getting back together with Hyunjin?
Heejin looks up, narrows her eyes at Jinsol. "That's not the point."
Jinsol's smile is cheeky. "All I'm saying is, might as well." She pulls back, pulls another textbook. Biochemistry. "You did the holding hand thing during breakfast."
Heejin sits up, rubs her nose with the back of her hand. "We talked, decided to give us another shot. I've wasted enough time, so I want to make these last weeks count." She sets her hands on the edge of the table, ready to push herself out, but she stops. "Unnie."
Jinsol has a hand on her laptop. "Yeah?"
"I'm glad that it's you going with Hyunjin to space." Heejin wipes her hand on her uniform pants, then wipes her nose on the collar of her shirt. Still so very Heejin. "I feel better about it. Knowing that you'll be on the ship."
How far they've come. Jinsol's lips tug in a smile. "Yeah, I'm definitely saving the Earth no matter what."
And maybe she can save a couple more lives, if the proposal goes well.
Things are a lot tougher after the announcement. All their lessons are revamped and accelerated, longer hours spent on acclimatizing the body to zero gravity and on honing their technical skills.
The pressure is heaviest on the Engineering Task Force, the construction of the ship barely making it to the timeline. On top of that is the flight simulation training that Jinsol and Hyunjin have approximately thirteen days to master, if all goes according to schedule. Whatever training can be done while waiting is handed over to Sooyoung, with all manpower diverted to the construction of the ship.
Sooyoung is stricter now, pushing harder on the conditioning now that Wednesdays have been re-allocated to Technical Skills; Jinsol finds herself close to passing out after Sooyoung implements her heavier regimen on Friday.
The captain is also often booked during free time, either attending the numerous team meetings called by the Divert Project team or handling preparations for the upcoming specialized training in the coming weeks. The only time Jinsol doesn't see a frown on her face is when she's asleep in the bed beside her own.
Heejin is faring pretty well through it all. She still trains hard, even if she is already decided on staying behind. In between, she's either spending her free time painting or hanging around the common area with Hyunjin, and despite everything Jinsol picks up the positive change in her demeanor.
But there's something up with Hyunjin.
Jinsol spots it in her inability to focus on Thursday, quick fatigue on Friday, paling of her lips on Saturday as she gets her blood pressure checked by the medical team. Heejin is around her all the time, holding her hand, making good on her word to no longer waste the short time they have together, and Jinsol sees how it smooths some of the creases off of her partner’s brow.
On top of heavier training is the preparations for the nanotech barrier proposal. Jinsol spends every second she has free working on it, and it shows in the results.
Between Dr. Son and Jungeun they already have a child-sized barrier that can theoretically withstand the force of a nuclear explosion at ten kilometers of distance, can absorb enough radiation to make it fit for human containment. It’s still not vacuum-sealed, and not fully self regenerating, but it'll be readily hooked into the ship once done.
The biggest hurdle they have to jump is still the procurement of enough nanotech to cover the whole ship. It's the clincher and no matter how much thinking Jinsol pours into it, there’s no way the additional tech can be procured and programmed in time for the launch. What could be done is to spread thin their already available tech, but that will require a lot more creativity than their three brains can muster.
Maybe Sunday laundry afternoon can solve that. Jinsol is squatting in front of the washing machines again, watching her uniforms spin around in their sudsy chamber. Even if it's a conditioning day, there's still enough of a leeway time to get her weekly ritual done. The added bonus is that she has the whole of Monday free.
If she stares long enough it starts to look like a ship blasting off into space. Then maybe insight will hit her, insight that can save her life and Hyunjin's.
"Jinsol-unnie." Jinsol recognizes Hyunjin from the doorway, turns as her partner closes the door behind her.
"Oh, Hyunjin." She stumbles, stands. Last she checked, Heejin had plans to bake a cake for Hyunjin's birthday tomorrow, Sooyoung was busy with another council meeting. "What brings you here?"
"I needed a break," says Hyunjin, locking the door of the shower area. Her eyes are glassy. She tucks herself in the corner of the door, knees pulled up to her chest.
Red flag. They aren't allowed to lock doors. "Did something happen?" Jinsol asks, checking Hyunjin from head to toe. There's nothing wrong at first glance, but Hyunjin's hair is dull, eyebags a fraction heavier. "What’s wrong?"
Hyunjin covers her face with her hands, then cries.
Oh shit. Jinsol fumbles with her step, kneeling in front of Hyunjin. If Hyunjin is crying—why is Hyunjin crying?
"Jinsol-unnie," says Hyunjin in between deep heaves, "I'm scared."
Ah.
Shit, this is bad. Bad, bad, bad. Jinsol hesitates, hand about to pull Hyunjin's from her face. "Do you want me to call Heejin—"
"No," Hyunjin grabs blindly, holding Jinsol tightly by the sleeves of her shirt. It's a mess, Hyunjin's eyes wet and lip trembling as she tries to calm herself. "I just need to pull myself together."
It's a blatant lie and Jinsol knows it.
In an instant Hyunjin is sobbing like a child, biting down on her hand to muffle the sound.
Shit. What’s the first step for solving a problem? Data gathering. "Hyunjin." Jinsol tugs at Hyunjin's wrist, panic rising in her stomach. "What happened?"
Hyunjin's eyes are squeezed shut and she's shaking her head. But the tears aren't stopping no matter how hard she's wiping her eyes.
If Hyunjin doesn't pull herself together, someone’s bound to notice.
Jinsol hates what she does next, pulls Hyunjin's hand down from her face. "Hyunjin. If you don't tell me what is going on, I'm unlocking this door and calling Sooyoung."
It’s the wrong thing to say. Hyunjin tugs her arms away, shocked. But it’s too late, shots have been fired, and Jinsol is now prioritizing damage control.
"Hyunjin." Jinsol exhales, pulling herself back. She shouldn’t push it. "I'm sorry. I won't tell her. Wash your face, at least."
She moves away, takes her spot in front of the washing machines once more.
The sudsy clothes aren't as intellectually stimulating now that Hyunjin is sulking in the periphery. It doesn't do anything to ease the heavy lump in Jinsol's throat.
"I should go back," Hyunjin is wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, standing up.
Jinsol watches as she pulls herself to the sink, washes her face. Stares at herself.
“My medical exam results aren’t good,” says Hyunjin as she closes the faucet, “because I don’t eat enough.”
Oh.
Jinsol listens to every slow step that Hyunjin takes to leave the shower area, feels the soft shutting of the door echo in the laundry room.
Hyunjin is scared of the mission. This is exactly why Heejin was so stubborn about joining in the first place. But Hyunjin is so much more afraid of Heejin having to go to space. And now that she’s stuck in between those two things?
Jinsol is at a loss.
At dinner they celebrate Hyunjin's birthday. It's the only day Sooyoung doesn't impose the lights out rule, and Heejin chooses three western rom-com movies from the 2000s to play from 7 P.M. to 1 A.M..
These are rom-coms Jinsol watched with her mom back in her youth, which may contribute to why she isn't able to concentrate so well. Other thoughts filling the background of her mind include the presentation she has to finish by tomorrow, the sight of Heejin burrowing her head into Hyunjin's stiff shoulder.
Now that Jinsol knows what to look out for, she sees how Hyunjin spends most of the movies staring at her own toes, how her tupperware of food is half-finished but already closed.
The programming of the barrier units is far from finished but Jinsol is banking on Dr. Son's presentation to be compelling enough to get the other scientists to help them out. If they're able to mobilize the task forces towards the effort, maybe someone can figure out how to maximize the utilization of their already available technology and complete the project. Because her brain is coming up short.
Sooyoung is watching from the couch by the wall. It's only been a few days of the new schedule but Sooyoung is looking worse for wear, deeper circles beneath her eyes and a tired slouch on her shoulders. She's been sleeping in the bunk beside Jinsol's, so at the very least she's getting some sort of rest. It's clear that the news is taking a big toll on her though, her eyes shifting between the screen and Hyunjin.
What is it like, having to train one of her former students for her death? Or Jinsol, even—whatever Jinsol is to her.
Were they friends, before everything happened? Sooyoung's gaze meets hers. It's unreadable in the dimmed lights of the common area, the light of the TV screen mixing with the window light on her face. But there's something there, definitely, a continuation from the night at the hallway.
What that is, Jinsol's brain is too full of other things to think about.
It's midnight. Heejin untangles from Hyunjin, scrambling to the kitchen and returning immediately with a round chocolate cake, frosting meticulously layered with white icing that forms the face of a cat. There's an anxious curl in her brows as she sets the cake down on the low table. "Happy birthday, Hyunjin."
Hyunjin pulls Heejin into a tight embrace, burrows her head in the crook of her girlfriend's neck. The sight makes Jinsol's fingers tingle with the need to get to work.
***
So Jinsol tries. She really does, squeezing every last drop of her free time on tying the loose ends of her barrier unit code and working on the presentation deck. Even if her body is drained in between the intensive conditioning and the prolonged exposure to Zero-G, mind blanked by the exponential explosion of information she has to absorb during flight training.
Despite the lack of time, Jinsol is confident that the deck she sends to Dr. Son on Hyunjin's birthday is the best one she's ever prepared.
She stretches her arms overhead. The Monday afternoon is a good change of pace given the past days and she's actually glad that Sooyoung fought to keep their break periods. Because this is probably the first of her last three rest days on Earth.
It's not that she doesn't believe in the chances of the barrier proposal getting approved—scratch that, she doesn't. Even the most optimistic cell in her brain will give the proposal a big thumbs-down. There's just too little benefit to be gained from the approval, too much expense and effort needed to bring it to fruition. And it could also risk the integrity of the ship, so there’s no reason for the Divert Project to approve it.
But that's fine. Jinsol signed up for this after all, didn't she?
But so had Hyunjin, and now her partner is having second thoughts about the whole thing. And her performance over the morning had been worrisome; as early as their usual ping pong regimen Hyunjin had been slower in her rallies and serves.
That's the only reason Jinsol is hoping against hope, that somehow the Divert Project will ride on their proposal, somehow the best and brightest minds of the world are enough to save them. But even if they do approve it by tomorrow, there will only be thirteen days left before the launch. Thirteen days to procure the technology needed to fully execute the barrier.
Her laptop lights up with a response from Dr. Son, telling her that he will let her know what happens later in the day.
She should make her rest days count, after the lengths Sooyoung had gone to save it for them. Outside it looks warm for a November day, trees all red and orange post-fall. Jinsol isn't fond of the cold, but she's also heading to space in two weeks. She may as well go around the field, do some nature appreciation.
There's laughter coming from the common area. Heejin's and Hyunjin's. Jinsol gets a warm feeling in her chest as she listens. She takes a peek, finds Heejin painting directly on Hyunjin's face.
Hyunjin's dimple! It's the first time she sees it, ever. It’s a sign to leave them alone, grab her Divert Project winter coat from the room before heading to the field.
Yeesh! The dry air seeps into the skin of Jinsol's cheeks. She has already forgotten how cold it is, her only true experience of this year's seasons being the minutes outside the car as they're ferried between buildings. She's sure she’s taking the Faculty Quarters heating for granted.
She shoves her hands into her pockets, walks across the field.
She can't see much of the KARI from here; after all, the Faculty Quarters is tucked all the way in the back, surrounded by trees and other kinds of foliage. She had gone on a tour before, with her mom, for the orientation of incoming cadets.
Would Sooyoung allow her to contact her mom again? She’s sure there’s something against it on the contract since they had to settle their affairs before the program started, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.
For now, Jinsol contents herself with the field and trees. The launch site is buzzing with activity, cranes and other machines set up to begin the build of the ship. Not much of the actual ship can be seen through the treeline, though the scaffolding is already up, pointing to the sky. And the red dot is bigger than she last remembered it to be, nearer.
She gets to the end of the field, the other side of the asphalt racetrack. There's a demarcation for the border of the Faculty Quarters, which she follows to see how far it goes.
There was an old rumor among the cadets that their Chemistry instructor was once caught planting marijuana around the area. Perhaps Jinsol could be the first person to find any true evidence of the urban legend. She spots a patch of thick foliage hiding a section of the demarcation, looking suspiciously spacious enough for some illegal plant drugs.
Of all the things she could find in the foliage, it's Sooyoung, in a thick winter coat, crouching behind some bushes.
Jinsol holds back a yelp of surprise. Didn’t Sooyoung have a meeting today?
It looks like she’s working on a plot of what looks like lavender, gloved hands holding a small sprig and a trowel. The hood of her winter coat is pulled down, her hair tied in a half-ponytail that's threatening to fall loose.
Sooyoung is talking to the plants. "Stand at attention, soldiers. The schedule for today is pruning." The corners of her mouth lift with amusement, cheeks flushed from the cold. She pulls out a thick pair of scissors from her pocket while inspecting one of the longer sprigs. Some strands of hair untuck themselves from behind her ear, framing her face. "Slouching again, Sollie. I should take some weight off your shoulders."
There's silence now, Sooyoung's trimming and Jinsol's staring. This is foreign territory, seeing Sooyoung tend to each sprig of lavender.
Jinsol can't tear her eyes from this iteration of Sooyoung, one that isn't her supervisor or her cadet batchmate. She should leave, keep walking, but she's rooted to her spot by a botanist.
Do you only ever care for plants when I talk about them?
There's a beep on Jinsol's watch, a conference meeting with Dr. Son. That's enough of a catalyst for her to leave Sooyoung alone, make her way back inside the Faculty Quarters. It's getting cold, after all, her right knee feeling it a bit more than the rest.
There's nobody in the common area, which leads to an amusing train of speculation. Jinsol heads straight to the conference room, sets up the tablet to receive Dr. Son's call.
"I'm sorry, Jinsol," are the first words from Dr. Son, somber eyes and mellow tone loud in the quiet of the conference room. "But the council had decided that it was too much a risk in too short a timeframe."
The verdict is easier to digest than she expected, an inevitable truth she finally has no reason to refuse to accept.
Jinsol rubs her nose, ridding it of the leftover cold from the outside. "Teach. It's fine. I signed up for this, didn't I? You even gave me that whole speech."
Dr. Son nods through the meeting tablet. "You did well, nonetheless."
The news should crush her, but it doesn't. Instead it opens a blockage in her mind, spurs her to propose something oh so very reckless.
"Teach," she says carefully, feeling her way through the cards she plays, "do you think we can still work on the ship?"
Dr. Son's expression shifts to something Jinsol only sees on exam week. He gives a slow nod, cues her to continue.
Jinsol's heart jumps to her throat. "I was thinking," she says, "we don’t have the bonus project anymore, but you can still squeeze my brain right? Add upgrades to the ship in case, you know, someone gets incapacitated onboard? It's a waste of my intellect if we stop now—"
"Jinsol," says Dr. Son, "are you having second thoughts?"
Of course Dr. Son sees right through it. "No, Teach," she admits, "I promise that what I told you before I got accepted still holds. In fact, I'm probably the only one whose heart is still strong enough for this."
Dr. Son figures it out. He nods, pulling a notebook from off the screen. "What do you need?"
For the next two hours, Jinsol rambles. The new plan is this: She continues her collaboration with Dr. Son, touching base every meetup time, studying the latest timelines. As plans solidify, they will figure out where she can sneak in certain design details where nobody else would care to look.
Because Dr. Son can really be arrested for helping Jinsol with what she's planning to do, and Jinsol can really end up wiping out the human race if she screws up big time. But she's buzzing with ideas, thoughts flowing with a clarity that failed her for the nanotech barrier. There's a gut sense that this is exactly what she needs to do.
At the end of their extended brainstorming session, Dr. Son takes his glasses off, wiping them with his signature microfiber cloth. "Listening to you now: I believe that this will become the best case scenario for the world. You inspire that much confidence."
Maybe this will be for the best. "Can't count the chickens before they hatch, Teach," says Jinsol cheekily.
Dr. Son's smile is kind, though tired.
The call ends with Jinsol's nerves on fire, because she feels like a million dollars. Brilliant enough to save the planet, and one extra life.
There's approximately fourteen days to the launch. The thought crowds Jinsol's mind for the duration of dinner, all the way to lights off.
Jinsol pulls the Doraemon quilt tightly around her, shifting to her side on the bunk bed. Her inability to fall asleep is probably an effect of the decadent birthday cake they shared the night before. After weeks of a spartan diet, the sugar content is enough to overload her brain even a whole day late. Probably.
Fourteen days. A surprising amount of the plan hinges on Hyunjin being fit for the launch. Not because of any level of skill on Hyunjin's part, but because Jinsol is absolutely sure that Heejin would jinx the plan by finding her way onboard the ship. All her planned upgrades to the ship will be moot if two of them end up on it.
The episode at the laundry area weighs heavily on Jinsol’s mind. If Hyunjin’s condition gets compromised, it's going to bring about a domino effect of sucky things that may cap off with Heejin's forced inclusion to the Kamikaze two. So over the next few days, Jinsol needs to make sure that Hyunjin remains in tip-top shape. And maybe the shift in scheduling is a timely boon in Hyunjin’s favor, equating to twelve days for Jinsol to assess her chances.
Jinsol turns away from the wall, stares at the ceiling of her bed. She usually sleeps facing the wall, because the other side has Sooyoung asleep, usually facing her. A habit from cadet days, but nowadays it makes it more difficult for Jinsol to catch a wink of rest.
Not because of any action on Sooyoung’s part. The captain is pulled apart at the seams between back-to-back meetings and training, with sleep as the only time her brow doesn’t furrow. But at night, Jinsol tends to fall into old habits when exposed to Sooyoung’s sleeping face.
It’s fruitless, though. Sooyoung is hell-bent on keeping Jinsol at a distance.
She rubs her eyes, turns to face the wall again. The time is half past three in the morning, and she has half a mind to brainstorm the perfect location on the ship to install an emergency hatch—
"Sol?"
Jinsol freezes. Sooyoung? Awake? Is she hallucinating from the sugar of the night before?
"Jinsol?" She isn't hearing things. It's definitely Sooyoung, awake, though her voice is soft with sleepiness.
Jinsol winces. "My bad," she mutters, turning to face the ceiling of her bunk bed. She probably woke Sooyoung from the tossing and turning. "Sugar rush from the cake."
There's a creak beside her, Sooyoung sitting up. It's hard to see in the dark, but Sooyoung rubs her eyes to wakefulness. Her sleep shirt is white, her hair grown a little past her shoulders. "I woke up."
Jinsol slaps a hand on her cheek, pressing it. Her stomach is doing flips, and nothing will stop her from blaming it on the cake. "Sugar rush?"
"Among other things." Jinsol sees from her periphery the way Sooyoung turns to face her. "I had a dream about my sister again."
Eurgh. Jinsol scowls. Those dreams kept Sooyoung up when they were cadets. "I thought she came back from the moon last spring."
"It comes with stress." Sooyoung pulls her blanket off, sits on the edge of the bed. "Even if I know that my sister returned safely."
Jinsol turns towards the wall again, tucking her chin into the quilt. "What are you going to do about it? It’s not like you can jump into my bed like old times."
When Sooyoung doesn't respond, Jinsol cranes her neck to peer in the dark.
Sooyoung is staring at her.
Jinsol shifts, slaps a hand to her forehead. "Sooyoung," she says, "are you serious?"
"You know what the dreams are like," says Sooyoung in the dark.
It sounds pathetic and defeated and Jinsol can't help but relent.
"Don’t get used to it," she says, scooting over to the side of the bed, taking her pillow with her. Her pride feels like it's flushing down a toilet as she lays down facing the wall. "You're so unfair."
"I know."
The bed dips as Sooyoung slides herself under Jinsol's Doraemon quilt, another pillow snug beside Jinsol's own. "Just for tonight."
The bed is small enough that Jinsol can feel the body heat from Sooyoung's back.
"Goodnight," says Sooyoung, facing the other way.
"Night," says Jinsol, staring at the patch of darkness on the wall.
Jinsol doesn't remember falling asleep. She does remember the bed shifting from a change in weight, a soft touch on the top of her head.
She wakes up alone, though. Which is normal. Sees Heejin painting by the easel as she heads to the activities hall, which is also normal.
What isn't normal is seeing Sooyoung on the treadmill on the opposite end of the room.
Jinsol rarely ever sees Sooyoung before breakfast. It makes for a very awkward morning exercise, because Jinsol struggles to return any of Hyunjin’s ping pong serves.
Another abnormal thing is Hyunjin going for the backseat of their car instead of the shotgun seat, Heejin taking the seat right beside hers.
This leaves Jinsol sitting in front, with the driver. Sooyoung.
It’s just a five-minute ride but Jinsol feels the tick of each second spent in the shotgun seat. Sooyoung doesn’t seem to notice, but Jinsol finds herself checking every thirty seconds to be sure.
It doesn’t help that the rearview mirror features Hyunjin and Heejin holding hands. Is she going to have to get used to this?
Jinsol doesn’t let it bother her. After all, there are more pressing concerns to deal with in preparation for the launch.
Like Technical Skills Training today. They're actually doing timed repair drills in the morning now, with enough time and repetition for Jinsol to grow accustomed to her tool belt. In the coming week their suits should be ready for training, with barely a week left before the launch into space. It's a little concerning, though the reallocation of Wednesdays and this Saturday to Technical Skills brunts the blow somewhat.
Flight simulation is a lot more fast-paced, now that they have the customized panel down pat. In one-on-one sessions, Sooyoung’s hand keeps a careful distance from Jinsol, which is a vastly different story from whatever it is that Hyunjin and Heejin have going on in their pair sessions.
Zero-G sessions are ramped up to an hour and thirty minutes at a time, slowly approaching the two-hour ideal. There are some more difficult tasks now, with emergency toxicity drills depending on the assessment of the moderator, but the main purpose of these sessions is still acclimatization. So more often than not they spend the session in silence.
Jinsol checks the simulation cabin's air toxicity levels, sees that they flicker into the yellow range. This means the moderator is planning an emergency situation soon. Not like there's actual toxicity anywhere, since it's a simulation, but Jinsol pushes herself off the monitor area, floating towards the gas masks.
In previous sessions Hyunjin was more than happy to be left alone, preoccupying herself with whatever she could get her hands on. But now she drifts closer to Jinsol, following her around as they complete the different routine tasks assigned to them. She doesn't say anything about what happened in the laundry area, so neither does Jinsol.
Instead Jinsol fills the silent air of the simulation cabin with her gleaned observations, random tidbits of information that Hyunjin holds on to like a lifeline.
"Did you know that nitrogen isn’t flammable?" Jinsol lifts the emergency hatch of the gas masks. Maybe she can recommend this kind of design for the ship. "Neither is helium—"
"Jinsol-unnie," says Hyunjin, drifting by her shoulder, "how are you so calm?" Her voice is dry and soft, the first time she speaks to Jinsol in the day.
Good question, Hyunjin. "Calm about?"
"About everything?" Hyunjin pulls herself towards the gas masks. On cue, the red light flickers on the air toxicity monitor. Hyunjin pries one of the masks off the compartment. Once she and Jinsol wear their masks, she continues. "I don’t even sleep at night. Thinking about the medical exam."
Yeesh. Jinsol adjusts the chin strap of her mask. "Still can’t eat?"
Hyunjin nods solemnly.
Jinsol keeps her eye on the air toxicity monitor. It's still red, but should change back to yellow soon. Their cue to "fix" the gas tanks. "Luckily, we have more than a week before the medical exam. So there's time to work on that. And the sleep thing—that could also be a factor."
"Yeah." Hyunjin is staring at the compartment. "How do you do it? Keep calm about leaving those you love behind?"
So Hyunjin is more afraid of that than certain demise. "Well," Jinsol says, "it doesn't come to mind often." Which is a half-truth; Jinsol had been thinking of her mom more often, especially during TV nights, but that’s more from fondness rather than regret.
The air toxicity monitor turns to yellow. Jinsol loosens the straps of her mask, returning it to the compartment. Once Hyunjin does the same, they make their way back to the monitor.
There's a silence that Jinsol uses to turn her attention to the monitor. When a gas leak happens the first step will always be to get a gas mask, breathe oxygen until the situation has passed, then fix the leak. Its equivalent in the simulation is to press the glowing red dot on the simulation cabin's fake ship map, which Jinsol does in a beat.
"So you're not scared." Hyunjin says it as a statement, not a question. "I don't think you're scared at all, Jinsol-unnie."
Jinsol opens her mouth to retort, then closes it. Reevaluates her answer. "It's not bad if you focus on what you can do now instead of what you can't do." Like her plan to alter the ship. "And I don't have any girlfriends to leave behind, Hyunjin. So what's there to be afraid of?"
Hyunjin doesn’t answer, instead following Jinsol around the cabin until the end of their session.
Jungeun is in the Robotics lab later that day, shocking the life out of Jinsol when she opens the screen to a severely zoomed-in eyeball.
"Whoa there!" Jinsol fumbles with the meeting tablet momentarily before setting it up on its dock. It's not like there's a barrier unit blueprint to work on, anymore. "You're still here?
Jungeun quirks a brow. "You sound like I wouldn't be."
Jinsol winces at the implication. "It was a fair assumption. The nanotech effort was a bust—"
"I know." Jungeun stares at the screen, the two halves of the ship model in her hands. "But we're working on something else, aren't we?"
They are. Jinsol purses her lips. Nods. "Thanks for being here, Jungeun."
Jungeun nods back, clasps the two halves of the ship model together with a loud snap. "Let's get to work."
They work in silence, Jinsol reading up on the latest email threads of the task forces, Jungeun actually working on the programming of the ship this time. The email threads are pretty bizarre when taken out of the "end-of-the-world" context: a question about the minimum radiation level needed to go into delirium, a shady request for heavily regulated narcotics, and a whole exchange of "where's the screwdriver" in three languages.
Jinsol spots Dr. Son's emails in the exchanges. There's a request for additional RAM in the CPU of the flight deck, reworking of the flight panel to integrate some disjointed functions. Things they will need to get the plan to work.
Shoot, Jinsol focused too much on how to make the ship easier to pilot alone, but there’s nothing in her brain for how to get or keep Hyunjin off the ship. How exactly is Hyunjin going to climb down the ship without being spotted by the military or the media? Or is it a better option to just program a decoy suit robot?
She starts drafting the plans on a notepad page of her laptop, starting at the end goal, walking backwards. Maybe the emergency hatch idea would work, assuming the loading bay isn't immediately retracted before launch. What does the loading bay look like, anyway? She should get the layout for that.
"Kim Hyunjin is lucky."
Jinsol blinks. "What?"
Jungeun's attention is on her own laptop, probably to add to the growing email thread fire. "That you're not the kind of ass to save her own skin given the chance."
Jinsol snorts. "You make it sound like I am one."
Jungeun's lips curl in amusement. "You're not." She types something out before turning to the screen. "But you're hauling ass to spare her from the mission. Why?"
"She has someone to leave behind," says Jinsol. Her fingers shy away from the keyboard, tap on the conference room table. Morse code gibberish. "And that's freaking her out."
"Yeah. So?" Jungeun's tone is unperturbed. "What makes you any different?"
Oh, that's easy. "For one, I'm not freaked out. By the mission. That, and I don't have any baggage—"
"How about bitch?"
Jinsol scowls. "Sooyoung isn't—"
Ah shit. She slaps a hand on her face. "Shit. Jungeun. Forget I said that."
Jungeun quirks a knowing brow, gaze boring holes through the screen. "Complete your sentence."
Jungeun's blunt and straightforward and sometimes that bites Jinsol in the ass. "Jungeun. She isn't—I don't have any baggage. I don't have any regrets to take to the asteroid. And even if—hypothetically—I did, it won't stop me from choosing Hyunjin's happiness over whatever the fuck it is I feel for her."
Fuck. Jinsol said it out loud. It's real, the lurching in her chest that should have long died when she ripped her knee. It's a dead end, though, and she’s better off shoving it down, setting her sights on more pressing concerns.
Jungeun's expression shifts to pity.
"It’s fine," says Jinsol, more for herself than for Jungeun. "I signed up for dying. This project is just a bonus."
Jungeun drops the subject.
***
Now the most inconvenient thing about Hyunjin and Heejin getting back together is the unavoidable shift in group dynamics. It was subtle enough in the first few days: the change in car ride seating arrangements, the hand holding during TV night at the common area, the lingering gazes and the cheek kisses in between time slots at the simulation cabin.
So, not that subtle. But Jinsol's schedule doesn't really give her time to think about the shift.
Technical Skills is a lot more demanding now, the Engineering Department making up for the first day of ineptitude. Harder drills, more intricate pair work, and the consecutive days of Zero-G is wearing down on her both mentally and physically.
On top of training is working on her new plan. Dr. Son had sent her an encrypted email with the draft schedule of the launch and the blueprints for the loading dock. From there she fleshed out two main options: the installation of an emergency hatch by the side of the loading dock or the deployment of a decoy suit with the help of some nifty robotics.
For both cases the upgrades needed for a one-man ship have so far been approved by the Engineering Task Force, nobody yet suspicious of any sneaky efforts to disobey the Divert Project plans. In the works are a centralized monitoring system for all the ship vitals, a navigation protocol for the earlier half of the flight, and an automated launch sequence that will give Jinsol time to actually get Hyunjin off the ship.
Because Hyunjin's performance is growing shoddy as they continue the training. Such as using the wrong setting for the pistol-grip tool when installing a screw into a panel, or fumbling with the buckle of the safety tethers with clammy hands. It could just be Jinsol's overthinking, but it's painfully obvious that Hyunjin isn't fit enough to get on the ship.
These things occupying her brain are exactly why it takes her most of the week to pick up on the shift. But it hits her with full force during Friday afternoon break, when she heads to the sleeping quarters for a well-deserved nap.
Except she's stopped in her tracks by a pink sock on the sleeping quarters' doorknob.
This is probably Heejin's pink sock. Jinsol pulls the sock off the door, inspecting it with more care than warranted. Because she has nothing better to do and she has never seen Heejin's sock up close. It's threadbare, too thin for the winter weather, which is probably why Heejin has surrendered it to sentinel duty.
It makes sense. They're girlfriends, and though Jinsol has zero experience in the department she knows that six weeks of no action is a lot to make up for. It's just funny that Heejin and Hyunjin are three years younger and—well, know how to do the do .
Gosh. Jinsol is going to die a virgin in space. She slides the sock back on the knob, makes her way to the couch by the window-wall. She still needs her afternoon nap, after all!
On the easel is Heejin's latest painting, a bright abstract of Hyunjin's cat. Definitely Heejin's mood is the best out of the four of them nowadays. Jinsol approaches it before her attention is drawn to the window-wall.
The ship is halfway done, bright chrome against the gray sky of the winter afternoon. It isn't snowing yet, which is good for construction, but she spots the small dots of engineers and workers climbing the scaffolding of the ship despite the cold. Above them is the asteroid, glowing red by the sun.
The time is passing faster than expected; her long bangs can be pulled back now, when in the past she'd have them trimmed every month. In the window-wall's translucent reflection, she looks a lot like the Jinsol from five years ago.
Like an apparition, Sooyoung's reflection shows up behind her own. Her winter jacket is tucked in her elbow, pockets bulging with what is probably gloves and garden clippers. Even through the reflection Jinsol sees the amusement in her cheeks. "Did you see the pink sock?"
Jinsol's lips curl of their own volition. "Of course! That's why I'm here, staring wistfully at the ship instead of taking my post-workout nap. Though you've got to hand it to them, it's a long time coming."
She hears a soft chuckle as Sooyoung comes closer, stands beside her to stare out the window. "It took some time. I used to find them everywhere on campus."
Jinsol chokes on her spit. "Seriously—"
"Kidding." Sooyoung's eyes shift to crescents, the apples of her cheeks rising. "A couple of times in the gym—"
"No," Jinsol groans, rubbing her eyes. "I didn't need to know that."
"Teacher perks." There's a laugh at the end of Sooyoung's sentence that rings like bells in Jinsol's memory, and for a moment she forgets about the asteroid, the past.
There are mere centimeters of distance between them. When had Sooyoung moved closer?
"I talked to my sister the other day," says Sooyoung, eyes trained on the scaffolding of the ship. "After what happened."
She's talking about the nightmare. Jinsol regards her. "Well, did it help? I mean, are you still getting the dreams?"
"No." Sooyoung's eyes follow the line of the ship. "It helped, what you did for me that night."
Jinsol tries to take that at face value. "Like you said, I knew what the dreams were like for you. You're not as much a crybaby now as you used to be, though."
"Serving in the military for a year and teaching two batches of cadets toughened me up." Sooyoung's eyes crinkle at the statement, and that's how Jinsol realizes that she's been staring.
Jinsol fumbles as she looks to the window-wall. "Yeah. Totally."
There's silence again, giving Jinsol's brain the space to go into overdrive. Sooyoung is just an acquaintance, right? That's what she wanted. This is supposed to be a normal conversation with an acquaintance. Not funny callbacks to a past shared experience and—
Ah shit. Where is this weird palpable tension in the air coming from? Maybe Hyunjin and Heejin need to stop having sex—
"Are you planning to take a nap?" Sooyoung turns to her with a soft expression, one that shouldn't happen in a normal conversation with an acquaintance. "I can wake you before training."
"Right." Jinsol averts her eyes. Has the floor always been a nice brown? "No need to wake me though."
That's her cue to leave the window-wall. To her credit, her body melts on the couch, tired from the morning's exercise, and all she needs to do is cover her eyes with one of the couch cushions. "Night."
The response is immediate. "Goodnight."
There's a slow padding of footsteps, the sound of pouring water, before the smell of lavender fills the room. It lulls Jinsol to sleep.
She finds herself waking up half past 4 P.M., terribly late for conditioning. Except Sooyoung doesn't punish her for it, instead greeting her with a soft smile as soon as she opens the doors of the activities hall.
The shift persists as the days pass, and despite how subtle it is, it still gives Jinsol massive whiplash. Because on one hand Captain Ha Sooyoung is a slave-driving supervisor, and on the other she's Sooyoung, an echo of whoever she was once to Jinsol.
It stays in the background, for the most part, between their jam-packed schedule and Jinsol's herculean efforts to keep it out of mind.
Even during Sunday laundry afternoon.
It's the 21st, Jinsol's penultimate Sunday on Earth. As always, the laundry and shower area is hers and hers alone, her clothes spinning inside the two machines. There's a good fifteen minutes left before her laundry leaves the rinsing stage and enters the drying stage, which means there's a lot of time for her mind to drift towards Dr. Son's recent email.
Dr. Son had asked, off-hand, about the theoretical longevity of a small-scale nanotech barrier. If only a portion of the ship will be given that capability, what’s the longest it can last in space. He called it a thought experiment.
There’s not much point in creating a barrier only for a select cabin of the ship, because it’ll be impossible to get back to Earth without navigational tools or engines or life systems in place. If Dr. Son had the capability to devise a mini-rocket with all the amenities needed to get back to Earth, then he would say so straight up.
That doesn't stop Jinsol's subconscious from mapping out the flowchart in her mind as she stares at the washing machines. Just to tickle the brain.
And anyway, she can afford to; after Saturday's Technical Skills session she had already fleshed out the main structure of the plan: assault Hyunjin at the loading dock on the day of the launch, board the ship alone, then fly away without anyone at all noticing.
Why assault? Because there's a clause in the contract that will give Hyunjin a lifetime in jail if she's found to be in cahoots with the escape plan. Jinsol too, actually, but she would be too far away in space to face the repercussions of her highly illegal actions.
It's crude. But a decoy suit will be impossible to build given that she will only be seeing the suit for the first time on Tuesday. And the emergency hatch would also risk the integrity of the ship if it isn't constructed properly; the whole plan will be moot if she fails to crash into the asteroid.
That leaves her with two issues: what to do if there will be military personnel at the loading dock, and how the heck she plans to knock Hyunjin out.
Beep. The washing machines stop at the same time, spinning now in the opposite direction. There's something about the rhythm that eases her mind, untangles the knots in its string.
"Jinsol."
Except that one stubborn, stubborn knot.
Jinsol raises her head, catches Sooyoung’s gaze. The captain is standing at the doorway, winter coat tucked in her arm, most likely fresh from a meeting.
There has to be a reason for her to disturb Sunday afternoon laundry. A legitimate, work-related reason. "Did something happen?"
"Snow is falling." Sooyoung averts her gaze, pulls the coat closer to herself. "Do you want to take a look?"
There's—there's no explanation. Jinsol blinks, stares dumbly as Sooyoung looks at everything but her. "But we hate the cold."
"The first snow of the year, your last one." Strands of hair fall from where they're tucked behind an ear, Sooyoung's head still bowed. "Heejin and Hyunjin are outside as well. I figured you would want to know."
What is Sooyoung doing? "I don't get it—"
Jinsol stops herself when Sooyoung flinches. Shit. "I mean, wait, fuck—"
Sooyoung's mask clicks back on, the frigid neutral that's too much like before. Jinsol's vision tunnels.
"Sooyoung." Her hand's outstretched, words slipping. "I—I don't have gloves."
And just like that, Sooyoung lifts her head. Something loosens in Jinsol's chest as Sooyoung's gaze meets her own. "I have a spare."
Thump. There's two minutes to go before her laundry is done. Jinsol usually folds them while they're warm. "Did it just start snowing?"
Thump. Sooyoung's eyes are too familiar. "Around seven centimeters worth."
Thump. What is she doing? "I'm sure Hyunjin will want a snowball fight, I just know it."
Sooyoung's amusement crinkles are showing. "She asked."
The machines ding, washing machine doors clicking open.
"Do you want to fold those first?" Sooyoung's eyes are fixed on her.
"The clothes can wait," says Jinsol as she stands. What is she doing? "But Hyunjin can't."
Sooyoung's eyes are fucking twinkling.
It's a mistake. Leaving her laundry on her bed, tossing on her Divert Project winter coat and Sooyoung's warm military mittens, following Sooyoung to the field, to snow. Jinsol didn't even think to bring a scarf, yet here she is, outside to welcome the extremely early snowfall.
The wind is dry on Jinsol's cheeks and chin, her breath condensing with every exhale. Already the cold is seeping through the thick Divert Project coat.
It's nice, though, to see and touch snow one last time. There are patches of green where trees block the snowfall, but the asphalt track is fully covered in a layer of white. It's easy to spot Heejin by her dark pink jacket, where she's making snow angels on the ground—
She's smacked by a snowball to the head. "Sheesh!"
Mirth bubbles in Jinsol's chest when she hears the light laughter of the perpetrator. It's Hyunjin, chin tucked in a thick scarf, eyes shining with excitement.
It's her dimple! The tall smile, her sharp canines showing as she laughs from her chest. She's already rolling another snowball. "Let's play, Jinsol-unnie!"
Jinsol laughs out loud. "You're so unfair, I just got here!" There's a good mound of snow near her right foot, and these military mittens are great for packing it into a deadly missile.
There's a whoosh overhead as a snowball lands smack on Hyunjin's forehead. It's Sooyoung, cheeks already ruddy from the cold, nose bridge wrinkling from her own smile.
"Oh!" Heejin shouts from far away, already pushing herself up from the ground. "Are we starting?"
Jinsol aims her missile straight for Heejin's head, and fires.
Smack!
There's no Kamikaze Two today, no spaceship launch. It turns out Heejin can pack snow like a rugby ball and toss it like a homing missile. That Hyunjin can and will tackle any opponent within a two-meter radius. That Sooyoung's shrill squeal still carries well through the winter air.
The cold isn't so bad when Jinsol is running around, armed to the chin with snowballs. Cold air fills her chest and leaves as warm laughter with every step of her sneakers in the snow and it should be cold, but it just isn't.
The air in Jinsol's winter coat is hot with exertion by the time she flops on the snow, tired. Her chest is heaving, cloudy puffs floating right above her face as she breathes in and out. She's 29 years old! What is she doing?
There's a chuckle that tickles as it leaves her, leftover adrenaline from the sudden snowball fight. By the East Sea, spaces for snowball fights had been rare enough that she only ever tried it once in elementary, but had it been this exciting then? The snow cradles her arms and legs, cools her back and head.
Someone sits on the snow above her head, out of her line of sight. "Tired, Jinsol?"
Sooyoung. Jinsol is in too comfy a position to get up. "Your snowballs hurt."
There's a soft hum barely audible in the winter air. "You threw a lot of them."
A chorus of laughter reaches them from far away, Hyunjin's voice mixing with Heejin's. If Jinsol closes her eyes she can hear it better. "It was more fun than I expected. And I'm saying this in comparison to Sunday laundry afternoon, of all things."
"A hefty compliment by Jung Jinsol standards."
There's too much comfort now, too much familiarity in the joke. If Jinsol closes her eyes she can see a younger face, twinkling almond eyes. "To think a stupid asteroid was all it took for us to talk like this again."
She thinks Sooyoung doesn't hear it until something warm brushes against her forehead, sweeps her bangs to one side. "Is this fine?"
Something stutters in Jinsol's chest. Sooyoung used to do this, didn't she? Fix her hair out of nowhere, close the distance without warning. But is it fine? Is it? What is she doing?
Jinsol doesn't have the mental fortitude to read Sooyoung's mind right now. And hey, there's only eight days to the launch. She can indulge herself. "Yeah. It's fine."
A shadow looms over her face. She opens her eyes, greets Sooyoung's almond ones.
It's electric. Sooyoung's cheeks are flushed from the cold, red lips parting with soft clouds of breath. Eyes wide with something.
Something. "Sooyoung?"
Sooyoung's eyebrows furrow. "God, Jinsol. I—"
"Hyun!" Heejin's voice. Panic.
Jinsol snaps to attention. Heejin shuffling across the snow to a prone body. Shit.
It's so cold, why is it so cold? Jinsol pulls herself off the ground, runs to where Heejin kneels beside Hyunjin.
"What happened?" Jinsol demands. She drops beside Hyunjin, rolls her over. Her eyelids are fluttering, breath shallow. Lips blue.
"She—unnie, she just dropped," Heejin's voice is climbing with fear, hands shaking. "This isn't normal."
"Bring her inside," Sooyoung is already beside them, scooping Hyunjin up by the shoulders. "Jinsol, get her legs. Fore and aft to the common area. Heejin, blankets."
Jinsol's mind is abuzz as they lift Hyunjin and bring her to the common area. It's a result of the fatigue, she's sure, so it shouldn't be that bad. But shit. This isn't good either.
Hyunjin's skin is pale when they set her down on a couch. Sooyoung peels off her jacket still wet with snow, Heejin immediately following with blankets around her girlfriend's body.
Relief floods Jinsol's system when she sees Hyunjin shiver.
"Stay with her first," says Sooyoung, "I'll call the medical team."
Ah fuck! Jinsol's heart seizes. That's going to get Hyunjin kicked out!
"Sure, Teach," says Heejin, unaware as she cards a hand through Hyunjin's hair. Her girlfriend’s eyelids flutter. She leans into the touch, and it should be a good thing but Sooyoung is already halfway to the conference room—
Fuck. Jinsol chases after Sooyoung, door slamming shut as she catches her inside the conference room. "Wait."
Sooyoung had already shrugged off her jacket, peeling off her gloves and dropping them on the table. "Did something happen?"
It slips out. "Don't call the medical team."
Sooyoung snaps her head. "What?"
That was probably the wrong way to go about it. "Please, don't call the medical team." Jinsol repeats, wincing because it’s incredibly stupid. Hyunjin just fainted and Sooyoung is totally right to call the medical team. Her steps are rushed, closing the distance. "It might make things worse. So don't call them."
Sooyoung's eyebrows furrow. "The medical team needs to check her vitals—"
Jinsol grabs her arm. There’s a surge of panic that threatens to eject the contents of her stomach, but she swallows it down. "It doesn't follow protocol, but I'd rather have her as my partner for the mission. If the medical team catches wind of what happened, that might jeopardize Hyunjin’s slot."
Sooyoung isn't pulling herself away yet, face blank with confusion. There's no clean read on what she plans to do, and Jinsol's prediction sours by the second. "Jinsol—"
"Can you at least give her until the medical exam on Saturday?" Jinsol is already yammering; why stop now? "We've trained for six weeks under that assumption, and even if her health is bad now I'm sure if you give her some time—"
"Jinsol." Sooyoung pulls her arm away only to grab Jinsol by the shoulders. "Stop."
Ah shit! The plan is officially fucked. Jinsol’s brain is going into overdrive, weighing her options. Knocking Sooyoung out if she decides to call the medical team is an absolute no because it's against protocol and out of Jinsol's skillset. Calling Dr. Son for emergency backup might risk the plan, though it's definitely more feasible than hacking into the database to alter Hyunjin's medical records—
"I won't call the medical team."
Jinsol’s mind blanks. “What?”
Sooyoung squeezes her shoulders before letting go. “I won’t call them.”
Jinsol needs to double-check. Because Sooyoung’s words are taking a completely different direction from what she predicted. "You're not going to insist on calling the medical team?"
If Jinsol couldn't predict what was on Sooyoung's mind earlier, she sure as hell can't now. "You asked me not to," says Sooyoung, like that should explain it.
There's too much to absorb. "Shit, I didn't know you'd agree—"
"You touched me for the first time in years." Sooyoung's expression falters. Hurt? "This is important to you."
"And that matters to you?" She blurts before she can think. Ah fuck, she needs to shut up before she digs her grave—
"Sol," Sooyoung's almond eyes are fixed on her own. "Of course it matters."
The words strike like flint. Jinsol’s vision shifts, Sooyoung changing before her. Younger, warmer, with something in her eyes that Jinsol had forgotten the meaning of.
Hyunjin, the plan, the fucking asteroid—it all empties from her mind. Jinsol is a cadet again, one question burning on her lips.
"Why?"
A switch flips. Sooyoung's eyes widen, a myriad of expressions coloring her face as she struggles to find an answer. There it is, regret, apprehension, guilt. Jinsol names them as they come and go, and it drives home the point that Sooyoung still can't tell her anything.
"Fuck." Jinsol shouldn’t even care anymore. "Why’d I bother asking—"
Sooyoung reaches out to her, eyes wide with something. Warm hands cup her face, pull her close.
There's no space to think when Sooyoung kisses her. Thoughts melt at the press of Sooyoung's lips, and Jinsol is a cadet again, heart soaring with elation.
No Kamikaze Two, no spaceship launch, just Sooyoung kissing her sweet and soft and it feels like a picture-perfect Sunday afternoon.
But shit—the fucking asteroid.
Jinsol pulls away. She's breathing hard, mitted hand tight on Sooyoung's shoulder, eyes locked with hers. Sooyoung is breathing just as hard, in a daze.
Unease settles in Jinsol's stomach. "Shit, Sooyoung. I'm dying in eight days—"
Sooyoung’s gaze sharpens, and Jinsol gets a front-row seat to the dread that falls on her shoulders. It unfolds in slow motion, how Sooyoung blinks, pulls her hands away, horror painfully palpable. "God—I don't know what came over me—"
"It's fine. Just got caught up in the heat of the moment." Jinsol grits her teeth, shakes off the illusion. This isn't a dream, it's reality and there's an asteroid she has to fly a ship into in eight days. "Think the girlfriends are rubbing off of us." She needs to disengage; any more and this might compromise her mission fitness, too.
Ah shit, Jinsol needs to disengage. But the way Sooyoung averts her gaze jabs at a wound she thought had already scabbed over.
"Fuck it," says Jinsol, pulling Sooyoung into another kiss.
The impact is supercharged. Jinsol's eyes shut as her brain short-circuits, senses overloaded by the force of Sooyoung's lips on hers, the weight of their bodies pressed together.
Lips move in rhythm, bruising, hungry. Hot fingertips find their way to Jinsol's jaw, searing trails down her neck, reaching under her winter coat.
It feels good—shit, it feels so good. Jinsol's body burns with need.
Sooyoung is both pushing and pulling, backing Jinsol against the conference table. "God," Sooyoung whimpers into the kiss, "Sol."
It tastes like a mistake, burns electric, brimming with years of stifled yearning that's every much Sooyoung as it is Jinsol. And holy shit, it clicks: Sooyoung wants this just as much as she does.
Jinsol's eyes flutter open. Sooyoung's eyes are screwed shut, eyelashes wet.
Sooyoung is crying.
Jinsol pulls back. “Shit.” The military mittens aren't made to absorb tears, but she tries, fruitlessly wiping at Sooyoung’s cheeks. “Shit, I didn’t mean to—.”
“No,” Sooyoung shakes her head, shuddering as she breathes in. “I can't.”
The captain disengages. Sooyoung steps out of Jinsol’s hold, dries her eyes with the back of her hand. Composure falls on her so easily, a mask of neutrality shielding her face. "I have to check on Hyunjin."
Words crumble in Jinsol's mouth at the sight of Sooyoung taking her coat and leaving the conference room. The door closes behind her, the sound sharp and loud.
The room is empty. Silent.
Fuck. Jinsol peels the mittens off, stares at flushed hands. What was she thinking? And eight days before the fucking launch?
Fuck.
There's a hollow in her chest, a wound that she thought had closed but is once again wide open, stinging. Longing.
Thoughts keep Jinsol up at night.
She sits up, forces a deep inhale and a slow exhale. There's a shot of adrenaline under her skin, excess energy from the day. Her watch glows with a tap, greeting her in the dark with a cheery 2:30 A.M..
Maybe it's because there's fewer hours allocated to physical conditioning, but Jinsol finds herself struggling to sleep. Her mind is buzzing with the events of the day and she plops down on her bed with a grunt.
Hyunjin had recovered in a couple of hours, thanks to an abundance of spare blankets and Heejin's emergency stash of hot chocolate. In lieu of calling the medical team, Sooyoung had done a quick check using one of the old electronic sphygmomanometers lying around in the activities hall and declared Hyunjin healthy.
At first Heejin had been insistent with requesting an actual medical exam, but Hyunjin's quick recovery and eager appetite for hot chocolate placated whatever worries she had. So all is well in that respect. So far.
Jinsol’s eyes adjust to the dark, spares a glance at the next bunk.
Sooyoung is sound asleep, curled up with a cheek pressed to the palm of her hand. During the whole of dinner, Sooyoung had kept her mask up, kept a solid wall in between herself and Jinsol. It's like the first few weeks of training all over again, except this time Jinsol isn't angry and as traumatised by her past.
She couldn't even return the damn mittens.
With a little bit of guilt, Jinsol shifts in her bed, turning to face Sooyoung.
It should be fine, right? Sooyoung has been sleeping like this for two weeks already, so Jinsol can afford to indulge herself once in a while. She tucks the Doraemon quilt in between her shoulder and her chin, eyes tracing the sparse light glinting off of Sooyoung's hair.
There are other things she has to think about, such as the risk of the next medical exam. Definitely Jinsol has to figure out how to circumvent that one if Hyunjin can’t improve. And on top of that it's finalizing the plan, and if it were another day she might have tried to sneak out of bed and work on it.
But she kissed Sooyoung today. Sooyoung kissed her. The whole moment—their whole situation—is shriveling up her brain.
There are questions that Jinsol is burning to find the answers to. Why did Sooyoung hurt her? Why did Sooyoung refuse the Mars Mission? Why did Sooyoung cry?
But hesitation weighs heavy on her shoulders now. Because what is she going to do with those answers? There’s a reason Sooyoung is so afraid to tell her, and Jinsol isn’t sure anymore if it’s something she can digest before the day of the launch.
Sooyoung mutters something under her breath. She's always been prone to dreams, and back when they were cadets Jinsol would have to rub her shoulder just so she could settle back into restful quiet.
Jinsol's hand is already reaching from underneath the quilt when it strikes her that they're in two separate beds.
It's at night, with Sooyoung asleep, that Jinsol most easily falls into memories of the past, her heart feeling a little more whole than it should. And that's dangerous, with the day of the launch so near.
Jinsol retracts her hand, turns to the other side of the bed, counts her breaths to sleep.
***
Monday comes, and it's like nothing happened. Sooyoung does a fantastic job of squeezing the life out of them during training and disappears into long meetings during breaks. Which is fine; there's officially a week left and Jinsol spends the afternoon break holed up in the library, studying the loading dock schematics and a formula sheet for a mild hypnotic.
It’s fine.
The plan is more refined now: drug Hyunjin with a nanobot-administered hypnotic, have her faint at the loading bridge, then leave her right outside the ship. It’s more or less safe, since the loading bridge is built to withstand the heat of the launch, but Jinsol will have to check that out when they visit the ship for the first time.
The good news is that there's no military personnel on the loading dock itself, for the same reason they're being isolated at the Faculty Quarters. The bad news is that the loading bridge is going to have cameras. Luckily Jinsol is a Robotics graduate; she can figure out how to circumvent those easily.
The problem will be figuring out how to make it as unsuspicious as possible, long enough for her to board the ship and launch it without interference from outside. She will have to check that when they actually get to see the ship. She will also have to work on making a voice filter to fake Hyunjin's identity credentials during takeoff.
There's a knock on the library door. Hyunjin, peeking in. She's definitely looking better, though Jinsol doesn't miss the nervous curl of her fingers on the doorframe. "Jinsol-unnie?"
Jinsol closes the lid of her laptop. "Sure, Hyunjin. What's up?"
Hyunjin enters, closes the door behind her. Leans on it. Her movements are slower than before, as if dragging out the inevitable end of things. "We're doing the right thing, right?"
She's doing the right thing. "Yeah. We are. Why?"
"I thought it would be easy." Hyunjin walks up to the library table, takes the seat beside her. "But every day feels harder and harder." She leans her head on the table, startlingly familiar.
Jinsol can't tell Hyunjin about the plan. "It's hard, of course. Human finitude. We have to give up what we want for the sake of the rest of the world. "
Hyunjin nods on the table. "Is that why you're ignoring Teach now?"
Unprovoked! "Hey, that's completely unfounded." Jinsol scowls when Hyunjin shoots her a stubborn look. "And Sooyoung is fine, I'm fine, we're fine. I don't even know why I'm explaining myself to you—"
"Stop being so defensive, Jinsol-unnie. You just sound more guilty." Hyunjin reaches up with a hand, pats her on the shoulder. "Do you have music on your laptop? "
The question catches Jinsol off guard. "What kind?"
"Classical. Or nursery songs. " Hyunjin reaches for the hefty Chemistry book across the table, drags it to herself before resting her head on it. "Heejin forgot to pack her iPod."
There's some Vivaldi in Jinsol's hard drive. She opens her laptop, angles it away from Hyunjin before searching for the tracks. "You're going to nap on Chemistry: the Central Science?"
"Yeah." Hyunjin blinks before closing her eyes.
Jinsol cues her playlist. Vivaldi, Four Seasons. It starts with Spring, the most iconic concerto of the four, and she feels a little better knowing that Hyunjin will live to see another season.
On Tuesday, they test out the new suits.
Jinsol shrugs it on one component at a time in the specialized training chamber. It's definitely a sleeker design than its predecessors, more maneuverable and easier to monitor, the heating and pressurization systems already integrated into the suit. Most relevant components connect to the head and the life support pack worn on the back, a monitor of pressure, humidity, and oxygen levels present on Jinsol's right forearm.
Hyunjin is fumbling as she fits into her suit, barely listening when the moderator points out what parts to clasp first. The whole room has its eyes on her, from the engineers to Heejin, and Jinsol is pretty sure that the whole room sees the cold sweat breaking out on Hyunjin's forehead.
On instinct Jinsol catches Sooyoung's gaze. Neutral, cold.
That's enough to spur Jinsol into action. She shuffles on the floor, boots surprisingly heavy as she makes her way to Hyunjin. "Need some help?"
Hyunjin nods quickly, and the engineer steps back as Jinsol takes her place.
"So you have the pants down—I mean up, but you have that step down." Jinsol grabs Hyunjin's life support pack from the floor, hoists it up with a grunt. These things are still pretty heavy, especially so because Jinsol has the exact same one on her back. "You can place the arms after putting on the life support, but that goes after the torso."
"Thanks, Jinsol-unnie." Hyunjin doesn't meet her eyes as she slips her arms and head through the torso piece, hands flitting over the valves connecting it to the pants. She reaches wordlessly for the life support pack in Jinsol's hands, snaps it into place on her back.
Heejin's eyes are glued to them, eyebrows furrowed in suspicion. It gets a little bit under Jinsol's skin, too much like Heejin's first weeks into the program. Is she going to try to take Hyunjin's spot again? "She looks upset," she whispers to Hyunjin, passing her the arm pieces one at a time. "Is this because of Sunday?"
"Yeah," says Hyunjin, a lot calmer now. She pulls the arm pieces up, activates the panel on her forearm. Her vitals show, though without the helmet piece they can't exactly test out pressurization. "She keeps making me hot chocolate."
So it's a genuine worry about her girlfriend's health. Jinsol gives Heejin a glance, finds that she's walking towards Sooyoung for one of those frequent conversations Jinsol could never pin down.
And she will ignore it, purposefully, because she and Sooyoung are back to being friendly strangers again.
It feels awful.
They're separated for the rest of the morning, Engineering conducting individual tests on the suit's fit. Jinsol is ushered to a monitoring table, various wires hooked up into her life support pack and into her suit.
The helmet is the last to arrive at the scene, pulling her into a quiet as the moderators fit it over her head. She's instructed to lock the valves as the other researchers plug the helmet into the monitoring table, and she's given the go signal to try out the suit.
Jinsol feels like she's swimming inside the suit, the glass of the helmet thick enough to distort her vision, the air inside heating up as she activates the different systems. Air pressure stabilizes with the click of a button, then temperature, the heat of her back redistributed to the cooler parts of her body. An interface lights up in her periphery, the helmet's screen adjusting to give a clearer view of the surrounding area. The panel on her arm is lit up: heart rate, gas content, pressure level. There's a tiny green dot at the side of the panel that should turn red if there's an issue with the suit.
Under the instruction of the moderator she takes a couple of test steps, cumbersome in the suit. Then she's escorted into the flight simulation chamber for a test run.
She meets Hyunjin at the chamber, though the thickness of the helmet glass makes it impossible to see her face. Additional points for the decoy robot in suit plan, but she doubts a robot equivalent can be made in time for the launch, so the assault plan is still her best bet.
The flight simulation deck has been revamped to better reflect the ship in progress; buttons and knobs instead of levers, a centralized decision system for the switches, a pilot-accessible monitoring for the stats of the ship. By age authority Sooyoung has assigned Jinsol the head pilot role, though the confused glances of the researchers and moderators tell Jinsol that it's unexpected. Hyunjin is relieved nonetheless, taking the co-pilot's position.
Jinsol buckles herself to the seat. The engineers don't need to know, but the program to automatically launch the ship is already installed, accessible by the right sequence of buttons. She tests it out, entering the sequence up to the penultimate step, the blue light on the flight panel indicating the success.
She resets the sequence, ears poised for the moderator's instructions through the helmet's built in communicator. From her periphery she spots Hyunjin's gloved hands ghosting over the panel, shaky though still pressing the buttons correctly. It reminds her a lot of Mark Tuan from the applications, and it sinks in again that Hyunjin no longer wants to be here.
Jinsol tries to record Hyunjin's voice as they practice the launch sequence, something she has to process during Robotics lab time later.
They activate Zero-G shortly after the launch. Jinsol unbuckles her seat belt, lets herself float upwards. Without the weight of gravity the suits are a lot more comfortable, though Jinsol still feels the same blood rush in her ears. Hyunjin unbuckles, though she clings onto the headrest of the seat as she floats up.
The communicator blares in Jinsol's ear, a global transmission from the moderator. "Oxygen in the chamber will be gradually reduced to 15% to test the suits. Press the signal flare on your shoulder should you experience any nausea, or if your suit's oxygen levels dip below 75%."
Jinsol responds with an affirmative, which Hyunjin doesn't echo. Not good.
"You good?" She asks Hyunjin through the local radio line. "They can't hear us through the local line, so you can be honest."
Hyunjin's helmet turns to face her, followed by a crackling in her communicator. Her heavy breathing is caught through the static. "Jinsol-unnie. It's too soon."
Jinsol can't tell Hyunjin about the plan. "I'm here," she says instead, pulling herself towards Hyunjin. "Just keep calm. I have your back. You'll be fine." If Hyunjin keeps breathing like that, her suit's oxygen is going to deplete sooner than the allotted time.
It doesn't work. Hyunjin hasn't let go of the headrest, her frame folding into itself. She isn't even using the communicator anymore, but her body language speaks volumes of her current state.
Jinsol glances quickly at her forearm monitor. The oxygen of the chamber is still at a healthy 20%, still within normal range. Her own oxygen is still at a shiny 94%. Still too soon to end the test.
But Hyunjin is hyperventilating. Jinsol pulls her closer by the arm, checks her monitor. Hyunjin's oxygen is still healthy, but already at 90%, depleting faster than her own.
The chamber's oxygen drops by another percent, officially passing the threshold for breathable air. Jinsol activates her communicator. "Can you hold on a little more?"
Hyunjin gives a feeble thumbs up.
That's not enough of an assurance. "Use the local line, Hyunjin, I need to know if you can keep going."
The communicator crackles to life, and Jinsol hears a heavy shuddering. "I'm okay, Jinsol-unnie. I'll be okay."
They can't continue the test.
Jinsol thinks: the valves are clasped and locked in place, which is good for outer space but bad for a red herring sabotage. Instead she starts going through the interface of the suits monitor, and— holy shit, there's no monitoring for the temperature.
What an oversight. "Hyunjin, I'm going to stop the simulation." Jinsol turns the knobs on her torso piece, ramps up the temperature inside her suit until it's high enough to make her head pound. The effect is immediate on the monitor, her heart rate fast enough to warrant a slap to her signal flare.
The global line blares in her communicator. "Ending test run, please ready for shutdown of zero gravity protocol."
Jinsol pulls herself to the floor with the help of the pilot's seat, the humid heat making her nauseous for real. Hyunjin has already touched the floor, helmet faced in Jinsol's general direction.
Gravity happens. Jinsol plops on the floor without incident. There's a hiss at the vacuum-sealed door before a group of engineers swarm her, already unlocking the valves of her helmet. The rush of cool air floods her suit as soon as the helmet pops off her head, the pounding ceasing with the change in temperature.
"You guys forgot the temperature monitor!" Jinsol complains as she stands, helping with the disassembly of her suit. The engineers seem to buy her excuse, though one grumbles about the placement of the knobs. Tough luck to whoever made that mistake, but Jinsol is grateful for now.
There's half the number of engineers helping Hyunjin out of her own suit, though she doesn't seem to mind the lack of attention.
Sooyoung is watching from outside the chamber, cold and neutral. But there’s something different now, a slip in the mask that Jinsol’s heart wants to pry open.
They spend the rest of the afternoon on Zero-G acclimatization, extending the time to the final threshold of two hours. Sooyoung switches up the arrangement, sending Jinsol and Heejin into the chamber while she and Hyunjin sit out the day's session.
Which is a good thing, because Hyunjin still looks shaken up by the suit testing. Though Jinsol can't come up with a reason for Sooyoung’s rearrangement that isn't going to screw the plan over. That's something she has to keep an eye out for.
It turns out Heejin makes for a particularly fun partner in Zero-G, easily engrossed by each of the tasks the moderator sends their way. She's a lot more chatty than Hyunjin, constantly sharing whatever it is she's working on at any moment, filling up Jinsol's brain space when she would normally be using it to brainstorm the Hyunjin Evacuation plan.
At one moment it feels like Jinsol's brain is running out of steam until Heejin prods at her with a finger. "Hey. Unnie. I was asking you something."
Jinsol winces at the sudden call to attention. "All ears."
"Do you sometimes wish that we had more time before the asteroid came?" Heejin asks in her usual inquisitive voice, which is why Jinsol doesn't absorb the question immediately.
But it sinks in. Jinsol does a double take. "What?"
Heejin has a whole speech planned out. "I'm only telling you this because you're the least likely to take me seriously about it. But sometimes, I'm staring out the window while on the easel and I think to myself: What if the asteroid wasn't a Torino Scale 10? What if the asteroid came twenty years later?"
Jinsol finds herself mulling over Heejin's thoughts. What if the asteroid gave her a whole year instead of mere months? Would humanity have figured out something better than sending two people to crash into the asteroid? Would Jinsol have been able to figure out a better plan than making herself a martyr?
Her gaze falls on Sooyoung, in deep conversation with Hyunjin on the benches of the Simulation Hall. What would Jinsol do if she had more time?
"It's just wishful thinking," says Heejin as she pulls herself up along the wall of the simulation cabin, scrolling through a monitor. "These days leading up to the launch feel way too short and at the same time agonizingly long. I'm feeling so jittery—there's so much I want to do to make the time worthwhile but the heartbreak at the end freaks me out—”
"Heejin," Jinsol butts in as they float in the Zero-G, "how did you and Hyunjin end up together?"
Heejin startles. "Gimme a sec to think."
Jinsol's eyes are on the benches of the Simulation Hall. "Go ahead."
It takes some time for Heejin to answer, filling the cabin with silence. But it's not uncomfortable, floating in the Zero-G, looking through the glass window at Sooyoung and Hyunjin.
Jinsol's thoughts drift. What does Sooyoung think about the launch? About the kiss? About the past? About the future, with Jinsol flying off to her death? The questions grow, loom from the back of her mind.
Heejin's voice draws her attention.
"Hyunjin and I, we both came from Yonsei, but we only started talking after getting accepted into the cadet program. She had my attention from the very beginning with her academic record and her performance during class modules matched it.
"Then she tried to smuggle a cat into our dorm."
Jinsol's head snaps to Heejin. "What?"
"Exactly!" Heejin laughs, hands clutching her belly. "That's exactly what I said when she asked me for help. Can you believe it? I couldn't. At all. I thought she was way cooler and more distanced. Yet of all the people she could ask for help, it ends up being me.
"So while helping her out with Donald—the cat—I learned more and more about her. And I liked what I learned. Her gentleness, her simplicity, her sensitivity."
Heejin looks towards the benches, where Hyunjin sits. "Donald had to be sent back to her home after two months, but that time was long enough for me to realize that I liked her. So I asked her out two years ago at the SCT's driveway, while we were waiting for her brothers to pick Donald up."
Her lips curve in a small smile. "And the rest is history."
Jinsol watches as Heejin's cheeks turn rosy with fondness. It's a sweet story, one she’s glad won't have to end just yet. But why does it make her feel so hollow?
"I love loving her." Heejin's smile falls, expression contemplative. "Even with the asteroid, the inevitable pain of having to let her go. And I'm not gonna ignore the chance that she'll fail the medical exam on Saturday, that we'll end up switching places. But Hyunjin is mine to love and mine to lose. I'm not gonna waste these last days together."
"That's good," says Jinsol, tongue heavy in her mouth. She recognizes it, bitter jealousy in the hole of her heart, one that she's now longing to fill.
The hollow feeling lingers for the rest of the day, all the way to night.
Jinsol finds herself staring at the ceiling of her bunk bed, fumbling with how to best tuck the Doraemon quilt around her shoulders.
Over the evening lab session they reviewed a sample feed of the camera setup for the loading dock. Dr. Son had managed to procure a copy of their training itinerary for Thursday's on-ship training, then listed down what Jinsol needed to review onboard the ship. From what she understands, Thursday is the only day allocated to on-ship training, the only time she can check if her plan will work.
Fuck. Jinsol fluffs up her pillow, flips it under her head. She doesn't have to look at the too-familiar sight of her smartwatch screen to know that it’s past the time to go to sleep. There's not much planning she can do anymore until Thursday, so there's no point in staying up.
But no amount of tossing and turning can dislodge the thoughts brought about by Heejin's words.
The darkness of the sleeping quarters feels a little too much like space. Jinsol shifts to her side, towards Sooyoung. It's a respite from the dissonance in her chest, this view of Sooyoung asleep, facing her, breathing slowly.
Jinsol knows this feeling, recognizes it from three years before. The tendrils of Sooyoung's gravity wrapping around her once again, anchoring her to Earth. Familiar hesitation that once held her back from reaching for the Mars Mission.
It's 2049, and Sooyoung still has a hold on her heart. Jinsol's feelings spool themselves into neat bundles: regret, despair, resignation. Sooyoung isn't hers to lose, but the gnawing is heavy and deeply entrenched in Jinsol's chest. There's no point in trying to wrench it from her chest, so close to the launch.
But this time Jinsol isn’t a cadet at the cusp of her astronaut career. She’s a living, breathing tombstone, indulging herself for the night. There’s no choice to be made. No room for regret.
"Sol," mutters Sooyoung across from her. She's shuddering, curling up. It's a nightmare.
Jinsol's body freezes. Should she try to wake her up? It's so close to launch, so little time, so much hurt to risk if she grows any more roots. Sooyoung isn't hers to lose, to love. Jinsol needs to remember that.
Sooyoung chokes out a sob.
It's autopilot. Jinsol pulls herself to Sooyoung's bedside, hand reaching to rub Sooyoung's back. Her other hand moves to wipe Sooyoung's eyes, the tears that trail down her cheeks.
She takes a deep breath. Based on experience it takes some time for Sooyoung to calm down, every second weighing heavy on her conscience. Because every second sitting on Sooyoung's bed is a second she wishes she had after the launch.
Which doesn't make sense! Jinsol has nothing to stay for; Sooyoung had time and again pushed her away, closed herself off—
Almond eyes open to meet hers.
Fuck. Jinsol needs to disengage. But Sooyoung's eyes are brimming with tears, shining like stars. The sight captivates her, reduces her thoughts to rubble.
It's gone, restraint. Sooyoung draws Jinsol on top of her, pulls her into an embrace. Jinsol sinks down, as the law of gravity dictates, tucks her face into the crook of Sooyoung's neck. The sensation is brand new, like the kiss, but it soothes instead of burns.
Time dilates. The darkness hides the way Jinsol's hands scoop under Sooyoung's shoulders, masks the weight of Sooyoung's hand on the small of Jinsol's back. They press close, the space between their bodies dwindling with each breath.
Sooyoung's hair smells of lavender; Jinsol breathes it in. It sings of distant memory, lingers with regret. Still it fills her lungs, and she holds it in for as long as she can before she lets it go.
***
So it's 2049 and Jinsol still has feelings for Ha Sooyoung. Big deal.
Jinsol cracks an eye open. The light is brighter than she's used to seeing, filtering from the window into the empty sleeping quarters. Her limbs are stiff, heavy from sleep, likely caused by the position she slept in last night.
She slaps a hand to her forehead, massages her skull. She's alone in bed; the familiar weight of the Doraemon quilt around her body gives her a false sense of assurance. But the mattress has a different wear, the bed frame above her bare of paraphernalia. She smells it, traces of lavender and something else.
Damn. She still has incredibly deep feelings for Ha Sooyoung.
Jinsol takes a deep breath. There's futile longing, gnawing in her chest, so blatant and recognizable. So what is she going to do about it?
Some options come to mind. One is to pretend that nothing happened, which is impossible because she woke up late. Another is to downplay the very, very emotional implications of falling asleep in Sooyoung's embrace and waking up in the wrong bed. There's a third option, which is to just suck it up and face her feelings, but hasn't her pride taken enough of a beating—
A creak of the knob sounds before Jinsol comes to a decision. The door opens to Sooyoung, in full faculty uniform, gaze training on Jinsol like a homing missile.
Ah, fuck.
"You're awake." Sooyoung drops her gaze to the foot of the bed. There's a mask over her expression, impossible to read, and Jinsol feels the fallout before she even knows what it's about.
She shakes off the foreboding. "Of course I'm awake. It's," she checks her smart watch, "it's half past eight, of course I'm—"
Wait a minute. Jinsol looks at her smartwatch one more time. She read it right; 8:30 A.M. in cheery blue.
Jinsol jolts, scrambles off the bed. "Holy shit. You let me sleep in, in your bed—"
"You have time," says Sooyoung, "you still have thirty minutes for breakfast."
That's not an explanation. But whatever; Jinsol has training to prepare for. She grabs a uniform set from the cabinet, goes through the schedule in her mind. She can squeeze in some exercise during lunch. "You really let me sleep in, with just a week to go to launch—"
"I want to thank you for last night."
Jinsol's mind blanks. "What?"
It's not a fluke. Sooyoung is there, one hand on the door, one foot in the corridor. Hesitant.
"You caught me right as my nightmare came to a head. It would have been more difficult for me if you had let me sleep through it."
Fuck, the gnawing in her chest is getting worse.
"I want to apologize, as well." Sooyoung's voice is low with formality, unsettling. "I put you in a compromising position, with no consideration for your feelings on the matter. If I made you uncomfortable—"
"I liked it, Sooyoung."
The truth spills out. What's the point in denying? Jinsol shrugs off the last shreds of her dignity, grips her uniform; if she stares at it long enough, maybe she'll forget that Sooyoung is by the door. "I liked sleeping in your arms."
Now, what words can capture the breadth of Jinsol's turbulent emotion? "Look," she says to her uniform shirt, "I have feelings for you. I know it's dumb to tell you since I'm a glorified Laika waiting for my historic trip to space, but I'm dumb. I've been dumb for weeks. So of course I liked sleeping in your arms.”
The uniform shirt doesn’t speak back. Jinsol exhales. “Now I'm going to get ready for breakfast and pretend I said none of that."
There's still no response, so maybe Jinsol's wishful thinking worked. She spares a glance and—nope, Sooyoung is still by the door, watching her.
It feels an awful lot like kicking a dog when she's down. "What," says Jinsol, "planning to ogle me while I change? I already laid my feelings bare—"
"No, of course not—" Sooyoung stammers, bows her head. She wants to say something, Jinsol can tell, but her gaze traces bewildered patterns on the floor. Still thinking, still composing the perfect response to Jinsol’s emotional vomit.
Sooyoung fails to do so, instead placing a hand on the doorknob. "See you outside."
Jinsol's right knee buckles as soon as Sooyoung closes the door. She braces herself against the cabinet, finding balance.
There, she said it. The gnawing in her chest is lighter now that her feelings are out in the open, weight lifting off her shoulders.
Jinsol pulls herself upright, readies for the day. It’s a mess in her head. The confession itself was strangely underwhelming, as if Jinsol herself has yet to fully understand the extent of her feelings. But she doesn’t need to understand it to go to training, does she?
The morning is, surprisingly, uneventful. Jinsol manages to finish her breakfast in fifteen minutes and neither Heejin nor Hyunjin ask about why she slept in Sooyoung's bed.
They get to the SCT as scheduled, proceeding immediately to training. Which is a good thing; Jinsol would rather not face the music just yet. The day's itinerary wraps up all their training from the past weeks, a hodgepodge of drills for both tool use and flight simulation. It's easier for her to dive into training now, and Engineering is able to incorporate some Zero-G acclimatization in the drills to prepare for the ship visit tomorrow.
Heejin is curious; Jinsol can tell from the purposeful eye contact and raising of her brows. Sooyoung's looming presence over the morning and over lunch deters any attempt at interrogation, and Jinsol thinks she's in the clear for the rest of training when she enters the simulation cabin with Hyunjin.
But as soon as they settle in the Zero-G, Hyunjin speaks up.
"Can I ask you something, Jinsol-unnie?" Hyunjin's voice is soft over the hum of the Zero-G, but it carries across the chamber.
Jinsol already knows where this is going. She keeps her eyes on the garbage chutes, backs turned to the benches of the Simulation Hall. "Is it going to be something personal?"
From her periphery she sees Hyunjin nod, float her way to Jinsol's side. Not pushy, waiting for Jinsol to give her permission to ask. Hyunjin is definitely slower now, less deliberate with her movements, but she still regards Jinsol with the same consideration from the first days of training.
It makes sense to preempt the discussion. Jinsol braces herself for the awkwardness. "If it's about finding me in Sooyoung's bed this morning, I promise that there's a perfectly valid explanation—"
"Do you like her?" Hyunjin stares at her, expression earnest.
Damn, leave it to Hyunjin to cut to the heart of the matter.
Jinsol runs through a very quick train of thought. Hyunjin is way too perceptive to buy half-hearted excuses, way too stubborn to back down from vehement denial. But there might be unseen consequences if she just tells the truth; it could add to Hyunjin's heavy burdens and affect the results of her medical exam.
"'Like' doesn’t cut it," she decides. These feelings are more complex, so deeply rooted that it's practically ingrained in her DNA. Was that how DNA worked? “You know the history, Hyunjin. There’s a lot of baggage to process and not enough time left to process it.
"But it's no biggie. I swear." Jinsol grabs the handle of the garbage chute lever, drags it down. It's autopilot now, handling these routine ship tasks. Which is good because the launch is in six days. "I mean, what could I do about it, anyway? Mope?"
There's silence as Hyunjin takes the answer in, thinks. Jinsol waits for her.
"You should go for it Jinsol-unnie." Hyunjin says it simply, but her eyes are filled with gentle consolation that betrays a depth of understanding. Because Hyunjin, of all people, would understand the implications of her words.
So Jinsol listens. "I'll give it some thought, then."
That's enough of an answer for now. Hyunjin purses her lips, nods.
There’s not much chance to think about it for the rest of training. The engineers fetch Jinsol straight from the simulation chamber for more fitting tests, this time incorporating the new design for the temperature regulator and an automatic locking system for the suit valves. She's taken through one-on-one suit drills for familiarization until her watch signals the end of training.
It's a boon that most of today's sessions have been individual, though it only delays the inevitable awkwardness that starts as they load into their sedan for the ride back to the Faculty Quarters.
And damn, it's a Wednesday, so there's no Robotics lab session to run away to before dinner. Jinsol buckles the belt of the shotgun seat, waiting for Sooyoung to ignite the engine.
The ride home is always quiet. Actually, every ride is quiet. But fuck, why does Jinsol feel every second that passes as they cruise through the KARI grounds? It’s hard not to be conscious now that Jinsol’s feelings have been aired like dirty laundry. And it doesn’t help that Sooyoung is right beside her in the driver's seat, eyes on the road because she's the driver and not an awkward passenger staring at the driver.
She pulls her gaze away, rests it on the shell of the ship as they pass by. Tomorrow, they'll be seeing the ship for the first time, and the last time before the day of the launch. There’s going to be news reporters onsite, and after the training is her last meeting with both Dr. Son and Jungeun. Finalizing the plans for boarding the ship, covering any other adjustments Jinsol may need for her terminal trip to space.
She can do this, focus on the plan, on the launch. She just had to let the feelings off her chest; the best course of action is for Sooyoung to just forget that she ever said a thing.
They pull into the driveway of the Faculty Quarters. Sooyoung parks the car, pulls the emergency break to drop them off as always. But right as Jinsol's hand touches the door handle, Sooyoung calls her name.
"Jinsol," says Sooyoung, "can you come with me?"
Fuck. Jinsol's heart lodges in her throat as she turns to Sooyoung, retracts her hand from the door. Her senses are on overdrive now, scanning Sooyoung's expression for even a microscopic hint at what the fuck is going on.
In the mirror, Heejin and Hyunjin freeze, snap their heads to the driver's seat.
Sooyoung notices, turns to them with a very calm, very neutral expression. "You can go ahead." Her gloved hand pulls on the emergency brake of the car, boot on the pedal. "I just need another pair of eyes to park."
Which makes sense, since there's snow. But why Jinsol, of all people? Jinsol?!
Jinsol spots Heejin's widening eyes in the rearview mirror. "Oh. Oh!" She's pulling the door open, dragging Hyunjin out by the elbow."Enjoy your talk, Teach!" Hyunjin seems just as lost as Jinsol is, eyes widening as she follows after Heejin.
"Not—" Sooyoung pinches the bridge of her nose right as Heejin slams the door, leaving the two of them alone.
Stay calm. Jinsol buckles her seat belt. "So why do you need me?"
Sooyoung exhales, starts the car again. "To help me park."
The silence is deadly awkward as the car revs, pulling out of the driveway. Sooyoung takes it around the side of the Faculty Quarters, into an open lot covered in snow. Jinsol finds herself staring as Sooyoung backs the car into a slot. It's like the sunset light looks different now, falling on her face, hues coloring her cheeks.
Sooyoung pulls the emergency break, shuts the engine down without a single word.
Wait a minute. Jinsol’s big mouth is faster than her brain. "I thought you needed my help to park?"
Sooyoung is pulling the keys out of the ignition, eyes downcast. "I need to talk to you."
Jinsol’s throat dries up. There's the "fight-or-flight response," a common physiological reaction to a threat. At the presence of stimuli the brain encourages the body to produce high levels of cortisol and adrenaline, all of which succeed at inducing panic in Jinsol's shrinking brain.
"Sure," Jinsol manages to respond. She feels it, the symptoms: erratic heartbeat, clammy palms, tunnel vision. Her mental capacity diminishes with every second that passes, because holy shit Sooyoung needs to talk to her.
It's too quiet in the car.
Sooyoung takes a deep breath. There's the signs of the fight-or-flight response: tense shoulders, shaking hands, dilated pupils. Something is agitating her.
Jinsol jumps to the worst conclusion. "Is this about my feelings—"
"No—yes, but not—" Sooyoung cuts herself off, kicks her head back on the headrest. There's a rare inflection in her voice. Frustration. "God, I can't think."
Shit. "Sooyoung," Jinsol tries to keep her voice level, "you can just forget it—"
"No." Sooyoung screws her eyes shut, gripping the steering wheel so tightly her gloves strain against her knuckles. "I can't—Jinsol, I don't deserve your affection. Not after what I put you through. But God, having you in my arms last night—I never wanted it to end."
Sooyoung unfolds before her.
"The thought of you leaving me for Mars three years ago—I was so afraid of losing you to space. My dreams aggravated that fear and I found myself hating how much you dreamt of the stars. I hated myself for hating what you loved, but still I wanted you to stay behind.
"So I fought you for the Mars Mission slot. I hurt you with my selfishness, ruined your dreams, and doomed you to the very thing I feared the most.
"I caused you so much pain." Sooyoung blinks, a constellation of tears trailing down her cheeks. "Why would you want me near you—"
“That was it?” Jinsol’s throat closes. Because shit, all this time— “You just wanted me to stay?”
“I was selfish—”
“Shit, Sooyoung.” Tears are brimming, blurring her vision. “How could I hate you for that?”
Sooyoung turns to her, lips quivering as she presses them together.
"I thought you hated me," Jinsol cries, “I thought you wanted to hurt me.” There’s anguish swirling in the hollow of her chest, dark and menacing, threatening to swallow her whole. “You should have told me.”
“I wish I did.” Sooyoung breathes hard, shaking her head again and again. “But I can’t, Sol. I can’t turn back time.”
It takes some time for both of them to stop crying. The car is cold by the end of it; it's wintertime after all. Jinsol feels it in her limbs, seeping through her skin.
“We should go,” says Sooyoung.
Jinsol moves on autopilot, stepping out into the cold snow, trailing behind as Sooyoung walks ahead.
Jinsol best deals with her emotions alone, crumpled up under her Doraemon quilt. It’s a childish habit, hiding from the world like this, but she sorely, sorely needs it. There’s anger and hurt clawing from inside her chest and there’s nothing she wants more than to go back to her house by the East Sea.
The accident, the rotting spite that haunted her for years—there’s nothing more she would want in the world than to bash her head on an asteroid and lose consciousness. She could have prevented it. She could have talked to Sooyoung, said the right thing and lived a life with less resentment.
What went wrong? What should she have done, three years ago?
She hears the flick of the lights switch from the entrance, the familiar shuffle of footsteps. Hyunjin. Something soft is placed by her head.
Jinsol is still reeling.
Time abates the hollow feeling. There’s only so much self-hatred Jinsol’s brain could muster, and the Doraemon quilt grows hot and stuffy.
She reaches for the soft thing by her head, pulls it into the quilt. Hyunjin’s cat plushie.
It tempers the hurt. If Sooyoung hadn’t—if Sooyoung had shared her real sentiments back then, Jinsol wouldn’t have gotten injured. Wouldn’t have gotten delayed, wouldn’t have applied for a job with Dr. Son after graduation. Wouldn’t be able to volunteer for the Kamikaze two, wouldn’t be working behind the scenes to keep Hyunjin on Earth.
It’s too late, after all, to regret. But she can still make something good come out of it. Jinsol pulls the covers off her face, eyes adjusting to the dark.
Sooyoung meets her gaze from the other bed. Immediately she averts it, suddenly pulling her blanket to her chest.
“It’s fine,” Jinsol says on reflex. “You need it, don’t you?”
Sooyoung tucks her head closer to her chest. “Have I not burdened you enough?” Her hand crumples the blanket, pulling it to her chin.
The honesty stuns her into silence.
It’s dark. The hour stretches, Sooyoung trying to fall asleep, Jinsol watching her. Because Sooyoung mirrors the hurt in the hollow of Jinsol’s chest, every bone in her body a defeated one. Just like her own.
There’s solace in the shared misery.
Every so often Sooyoung’s eyes meet hers, never lasting longer than a moment. But it happens again, and again, until finally Jinsol has to say something.
“You can sleep here.”
Sooyoung’s eyes widen, but she relents too easily. Sits up, takes a pillow to Jinsol’s bed.
Jinsol scoots back to give her space, watches as she lays down on the edge of the bed, facing away. Sooyoung has long arms, angular shoulders, but she shrinks into herself, hunches to take up as little space as possible.
Sooyoung won’t be able to sleep like that, Jinsol knows from experience. She hesitates, though, hand hovering over her shoulder.
This isn’t the student dormitory from years past, with Sooyoung struggling from nightmares and Jinsol discovering that she liked the proximity. It’s the Faculty Quarters, with Sooyoung suffering from a living nightmare and Jinsol wishing she had more time to figure this thing out.
But Sooyoung’s shoulder brushes Jinsol’s fingertips, and time melds into itself.
It’s autopilot, Jinsol scooting closer, pulling Sooyoung close enough to smell lavender. Jinsol's hand settles shyly on her shoulder until another hand finds it, pulls it around her waist.
Sooyoung melts into Jinsol. “Is this fine?”
It feels right. It feels like consolation. “Yeah,” Jinsol murmurs into Sooyoung’s hair, “it’s fine.”
Sleep comes easily to defeated bones, and the morning comes too soon.
Jinsol wakes to warm fingertips brushing her bangs to one side. Sooyoung is looking at her, sitting on the edge of her bed.
For a moment she forgets the time and space. The scene is an echo of the past, one of the rare moments when Sooyoung would wake her up for class.
But Sooyoung is older now, eyes more tired, weight heavy on her shoulders. Her hand pauses momentarily, then continues brushing. "You're awake early."
Jinsol makes no move to get up. "What time is it?"
"Six thirty." Sooyoung's hand falls to the side of Jinsol's face. "You have time to sleep in." There are words she's keeping back, obvious in the furrow of her brow.
Jinsol stares at the strands of hair that frame her face. "Did you sleep in?"
Sooyoung looks away. "You make it easy to."
Silence fills the space between them. Sooyoung makes no move to retract her hand, and Jinsol makes no move to look away.
She breathes, recalibrates. It’s too late to regret. But she can still make something good come out of it, right?
“Want to sleep in?” Jinsol asks. “I could use the company.”
A myriad of emotions flash on Sooyoung’s face: surprise, disbelief, hesitance. Jinsol names each one as they come and go, until it finally settles in relief.
***
Seeing the ship in person puts a lot of things into perspective.
Jinsol steps out of the sedan, stares at the ship. It's bigger up close, blocking the morning sun from the sky. There's still scaffolding lining the hull, frantic engineers and construction workers buzzing around to finish on schedule. It's Thursday, after all; launch is already on Monday. She pulls the flaps of her Divert Project coat together. Four days to launch.
The loading dock is a low building with a moving platform designed to bring them to the ship, the entrance lined by a small group of news people escorted by military personnel. Photo and video cameras are trained on the informal driveway, shutters and flash going off when Jinsol looks in their direction.
It's a worldwide event, the first time the Kamikaze Two volunteers are photographed and filmed. She gives a wave.
Would her mom be watching the live feed? Her hand falters as more cameras train on them.
Hyunjin is the first to step out of the car, Heejin's scarf tucked around her neck. They played ping pong this morning, though Hyunjin hadn't asked a single question about Sooyoung then. Now she looks at Jinsol with a blank expression, eyes betraying her apprehension.
Jinsol gets it. The ship is their designated tomb, and while Hyunjin's appetite and energy is definitely better than it was last week, the risk that Heejin might have to replace her is still very real.
"Can't believe that the launch is next Monday," says Heejin, shutting the back door of the car. Her hand immediately makes its way to Hyunjin's. The shutters burst in flashes of light and sound, no doubt eating up the show of affection.
Sooyoung is at the driver's side, passing the car keys to a soldier on standby. She looks every part the supervisor of the Kamikaze Two: sharp, strict, serious. But she catches Jinsol's gaze over the car roof, eyes warming by a fraction.
Sooyoung turns away, greets the head engineer of the ship to begin the day.
The head engineer leads the way to the ship, escorted by a squad of soldiers. A flood of noise and light surrounds them as they're ushered to the loading dock, the doors shutting behind them with a dull finality.
The loading dock is a lot like a long hallway with three chambers, at the end of which is the lift to the loading bridge. At the end of which is the ship entrance.
Sooyoung walks before them, engaging the engineer with questions as they tour each chamber, the squad posted at the door. Debriefing chamber, where Hyunjin and Jinsol will receive their last instructions and sign the final paperwork. Decontamination chamber, where Hyunjin and Jinsol will disinfect and suit up. Then the lift chamber, where Hyunjin and Jinsol alone will head to the loading bridge.
For today, they board the lift in two groups: First the head engineer and Sooyoung, then Jinsol and the girlfriends. While waiting for the lift to go down Jinsol counts the cameras of each chamber, checks their angles. Even the decontamination chamber is heavily monitored, which only affirms her plan to get Hyunjin knocked out at the loading bridge.
They board the lift, Jinsol first, then Heejin and Hyunjin. The smooth ascent is impressive, though Jinsol doesn't miss the way Heejin tightens her grip of Hyunjin's hand.
Hyunjin looks back to Jinsol, nods. She's still determined. That's good.
The lift opens to the sight of the loading bridge, a white hallway leading directly to the ship entrance. Jinsol finds Sooyoung immediately, standing to the side, looking at her.
Her heart thumps. This is something good, isn't it? This warmth in her chest when Sooyoung sends her a fraction of a smile. Though they should probably discuss what exactly is the thing they began this morning—
Shoot, the head engineer is already ahead. Jinsol speeds her pace, trailing behind Hyunjin and Heejin. There's only four days to focus on the plan, the launch; exploring this thing with Sooyoung is just a bonus.
The loading bridge spans seven meters along the walk to the ship entrance, a vacuum-sealed door that unlocks with the press of a wall panel. There's no biometrics requirement, the security on the bridge resting on the two surveillance cameras on both ends. No blind spots is an issue that can be solved by some well-timed frame freezes and a blank loop, though she should run the specifics by Jungeun for proper execution. And as requested, the bridge is built to withstand the heat of the launch; leaving Hyunjin unconscious here will be safe.
Jinsol's first footsteps inside the ship reverberate with a hollow sound. They echo behind Heejin's, Hyunjin's, Sooyoung's; Jinsol should enjoy the company while she can.
They're taken through the layout of the ship, climbing the railings to navigate. The sleeping quarters, cargo bay, flight deck all look different from the side view, but Jinsol recognizes the designs from the replicas and schematics she studied. There's a large window at the very top—front of the ship, unnecessary for the mission, but it lets the pale winter light in. She hauls herself through the flight deck entrance, towards the red dot in the sky.
There's the flight panel, exactly like the simulation. Jinsol reviews the tech, ticks off the plan's checklist in her head. They're in place, the centralized monitoring system, the automated launch protocol, Hyunjin’s voice on a ready filter. Leftovers from the failed nanotech plan are also still there: the release protocol for the warheads, navigation modules to take the ship back home.
She hears a sniffle. Spots Heejin hiding in Hyunjin's coat, tucking her head into Hyunjin's scarf. Hyunjin mumbling on the crown of her head.
On reflex Jinsol's gaze finds Sooyoung's. Almond eyes cloudy with indiscernible emotion.
Jinsol steadies herself. What does Sooyoung see in her own eyes? Is it apparent, Jinsol's resolve to keep Hyunjin on Earth? What would Sooyoung think of that?
The rest of the ship excursion passes in a blur. Jinsol zones out of it, focusing on the mission at hand. She goes through the plan in her head, again and again, until it is foolproof.
Administer the sleeping drug after the final medical exam. Have Jungeun black out the surveillance feed as the ship entrance opens, activate the drug and knock Hyunjin out, then loop the empty hallway feed to create the illusion that both of them are inside. Then launch the ship, pilot it alone straight to the asteroid.
Lights flash and shutters click as they leave the loading dock. Sooyoung leads the way back to their waiting sedan, Jinsol trailing behind Heejin and Hyunjin. They load in quickly, and as soon as Jinsol shuts the door Sooyoung drives them back to the quarters.
Heejin's sniffles fill the silence of the car ride. Her nose is red in the rearview mirror, rubbed every so often with a harsh fist. She's angry at herself for crying.
Hyunjin pokes her girlfriend's cheek at thirty second intervals. Jinsol asks her a silent question through the rearview mirror: how is she? Her partner gives a nod, expression transparent. Tranquil.
All it does is strengthen Jinsol's resolve to make the plan work. And it will.
There's a car parked in front of the Faculty Quarters. Jinsol can recognize the bright red hunk of junk from any distance: Jungeun's car. Dr. Son is waiting by the entrance of the quarters, Jungeun standing beside him with a duffel bag.
What? Jinsol does a double take. "Don't they need clearance to be here?"
Sooyoung's brow furrows as she steers the car into the driveway. "Why is Kim Jungeun here?"
What? "You know Jungeun?"
The sedan halts with a jolt, seatbelt snagging on Jinsol's shoulder. Heejin hits her head on the headrest. "Fuck!"
Sooyoung resembles a deer in the headlights, shoulders hunched as she grips the steering wheel. "Yes. Kim Jungeun. Electronics unit. You worked with her." She sits up straight, pulls the emergency break. "They have clearance to visit."
Heejin and Hyunjin step out of the car, immediately greeting Dr. Son at the entrance. But there's something Jinsol is missing, and if she scrutinizes Sooyoung's expression hard enough maybe she'll figure it out—
A sharp knock sounds on the window. Jungeun, peering in, brow quirked in impatience. As straightforward as ever.
"Talk to you later," says Jinsol, stepping out of the car. Sooyoung nods to her through the window before starting the car again, taking it out of the driveway.
Jungeun is a sight for sore eyes. "What took you so long," she says, grinning, "having a moment with bitch?"
Jinsol laughs, greeting her with a tight hug. "I missed you too." Jungeun returns it just as tightly.
She lets go, makes her way to Dr. Son and the girlfriends, currently in polite conversation. "Nice to see you in three dimensions, Teach. Were you here for long?"
"Jinsol," Dr. Son smiles to her, eyes kind. "Good to see you again."
In the conference room, they go through the plan from start to finish: drug Hyunjin, knock her out on the bridge, launch the ship. Dr. Son takes them through a schematic projection of the ship, going through an extensive checklist item by item until all three of them are assured that all bases are covered.
Jinsol finds herself taking in the experience of having Jungeun and Dr. Son here, in person. It's a luxury after weeks of seeing them through the screen. Something she isn’t taking for granted in these last hours together.
"Here's the administering kit for the slow-release hypnotic," says Jungeun, pulling the duffel bag onto the table. She unzips it, takes out two palm-sized boxes. "Check it out."
Jinsol pulls one across the table. Inside it is a vial and a nanodocket, to administer the dose remotely. "How long does it last?"
"It's triggered by distance," says Jungeun. "Once you're a kilometer away, it should stop manufacturing and administering the drug."
"And I just pour it into her drink after the medical exam?" Jinsol inspects the vial. There's around two mL of suspiciously viscous liquid in there.
Jungeun snorts. "If you can convince her to throw it back, that's way better."
Gross. Jinsol should just pour it into some chocolate or something. She returns the vial to the box. "What's this other one for? Extra in case I spill this first one?"
Jungeun crosses her arms, clicks her tongue. Jinsol immediately braces herself for what's to come.
"Jinsol," says Dr. Son, a crease in his brow deeper than she remembers. He shuts off the schematic projection, folds his laptop closed.
"Tell me honestly. Do you have any regrets about volunteering for this mission?"
Jinsol breathes. This is one of Dr. Son's questions that hold the weight of the universe in them. Like returning to her cadet course after dropping out. Applying for a position at the Robotics lab. Taking the chance to join the Kamikaze Two.
Before the program, Jinsol would have said no straight up. But now she lets the question sink deep into her heart, where she holds a lot more than she used to think she did.
"Teach," she admits, "if I could come back from this mission, I would. But I need to divert the asteroid, I need to save the Earth. I'm the best fit for the job—the only fit, if I want to keep casualties to a minimum."
In person Jinsol sees the sympathy that sits on Jungeun's expression, hears the gentle hum Dr. Son makes when she gives a satisfactory answer.
"Show her the third box," says Dr. Son, "I'll explain."
Jungeun takes out a box the size of her forearm from the duffel bag. Jinsol recognizes it immediately, even though all she's ever seen of it was through a meeting tablet screen.
The nanodocket prototype. But it's different, shaped like a module that can be plugged into a spacesuit.
"This is expensive technology," says Dr. Son, taking the nanodocket out of the box. "But your mind, Jinsol, is priceless. Which is why Jungeun and I are presenting you with this choice.
"This nanodocket can execute a small-scale barrier that follows the conformities of a space suit, which we theorized can last up to three years. I am sure this is familiar to you."
Jinsol's throat dries. She made the calculations for that.
Dr. Son continues. "It has yet to be tested in the field. But we are providing you the option to activate this barrier, survive the warhead detonation. You will end up suspended in space and possibly propelled a great distance from the point of impact.
"This is where the spare hypnotic will come in. We had a colleague outside of KARI develop its formulation to slow your metabolism and put you into stasis while suspended in the barrier, long enough to give us a fighting chance to track and retrieve you."
Jungeun gives Jinsol a hug at the entrance of the Faculty Quarters. "Give it some thought, okay? You don't have to be a martyr."
"I'll think about it," says Jinsol, squeezing back tightly.
She lets go, turns to Dr. Son. Greets him with a cheeky smile. "Good luck to us on Monday, Teach."
Dr. Son gives a proud nod in return. "The best of luck."
Jinsol sees them off. Her sight follows the rear lights of Jungeun's red car as it leaves the driveway, disappearing into the dark roads of KARI.
A sense of finality lingers in the air, settles on her shoulders. This could be the last time Jinsol sees either of their faces. The beginning of the end.
The barrier nanodocket weighs on her mind; possible years suspended in space, unconscious and waiting to be retrieved. And it's not even guaranteed that she'll be found. It feels like such a shot in the dark, a risky experiment she won't know the results of until the very, very end. Which is most likely her very, very end.
It's a question of how much Jinsol is willing to endure for even a glimmer of hope.
The door mechanisms whirr from behind her. Sooyoung steps out, indoor clothes hidden underneath her winter coat. Eyes downcast, as if she herself doesn't know what she is doing.
But it shakes Jinsol from her thoughts. "Hey," she greets. "You know I could open the door myself, right?"
Sooyoung purses her lips, meets her with a pensive look. "How was your meeting?"
How was it, really? "It went well. Though I have a couple of things to mull over before the launch." Jinsol changes the subject, hand climbing to rest on the back of her neck. "Did dinner start? What does Heejin have for us tonight?"
Sooyoung's gaze lingers. "Hyunjin requested a rerun of Takeshi's Castle. Dinner is set up."
"Sounds like a plan." Jinsol looks out to the KARI grounds. It's evening now, the streets dark save for sparse streetlamps. "I'll follow in a bit."
She hears soft footsteps, sees Sooyoung standing in her periphery. The captain is silent, arms crossed, staring out the driveway.
There's tension in the silence. Quiet questions, leftover from their morning. What is this thing they are sharing? What will come of it? What is the extent of Sooyoung's feelings for her, and does it hold a candle to Jinsol's own?
But Jinsol's mind has other questions to answer: Will her plan to save Hyunjin work? It rides on Hyunjin passing the medical exam, but will she? And once Jinsol successfully launches the ship, what then?
Will she tell Dr. Son to have the module equipped to her suit? What if it fails? What if it succeeds?
When had flying into an asteroid gotten so complicated?
Sooyoung turns in her periphery. Jinsol turns to her, meets silent concern. Of course Sooyoung can tell.
"I'll be fine," says Jinsol, "and it's a winter night. I'm sure you're cold even with the coat."
A beat passes before Sooyoung shifts, unfolds her arms. Her brow furrows as she tries to come up with a response to Jinsol's statement, to Jinsol's unsaid questions. The right words to lift the weight off her shoulders.
Jinsol gets it. "Words aren't enough, are they?"
"No." Sooyoung closes the distance, reaching for Jinsol's hand. Cold fingertips find cold fingertips, bringing warmth. "Can I?"
It's steady, a soothing presence that makes the winter night a little more bearable. Jinsol entwines their fingers, palm pressing to Sooyoung's. "Yeah."
Sooyoung exhales, relief.
Jinsol stares out the driveway. At night the asteroid is absent from the sky, stars bright and clear even with the city smog.
It’s nice, holding Sooyoung’s hand like this. A four-day oasis, before the launch, before Jinsol has to leave for good.
But the barrier—what if Jinsol isn’t actually leaving for good? What if this is something she can have for longer? Would she want that?
Would Sooyoung want that?
A question bubbles up. "This thing we have. Where do you want to take it?"
Sooyoung’s smile lines appear. "As far from the asteroid as possible."
Jinsol snorts. "It's a little too late for that." But she turns to Sooyoung, focuses on the slight color of her cheeks. On strands of hair that frame her face. On eyes that have so much to say.
What would Sooyoung think of the possibility that Jinsol could still find her way back to Earth? Would she be hopeful? Would she be pessimistic, afraid to believe this tiny sliver of a chance?
Does Jinsol want to know the answer to that?
Sooyoung moves closer, rests a hand on Jinsol's cheek. Cold fingertips tuck some hair behind her ear, tracing a line to her jaw. Almond eyes asking a silent question. Lips a breath away.
They close the distance.
The kiss is soft, warm, brimming with words unsaid. The desire to be understood, shared.
And it deepens, expresses urgency. Hands wander, tangling in Sooyoung's hair, sprawling on Jinsol's neck. Breaths short, heating up. Bodies pressing closer with need—
"Teach—ah shit!"
Sooyoung recoils, squeezing Jinsol by the shoulders, but the cat is out of the bag; the door whirrs shut before them.
Sooyoung tightens her grip. "God, fuck—who was that?"
Jinsol is still in a bit of a daze. "Heejin, I'm sure." She snaps into focus as Sooyoung's cheeks flush pink in front of her. It's a good color. "Don't tell me you're shy to be caught by Heejin, of all people—"
"I was her teacher." Sooyoung makes a face. "Though it could have been worse."
"Yeah, she could have walked on us full-on making out—" Jinsol stops herself when Sooyoung's cheeks grow a shade redder. Bashful? "What?"
“We should head to dinner,” says Sooyoung, letting go of Jinsol's shoulders. Her gaze is different, embarrassed, hungry. "I need to explain this to Heejin first."
Hungry? Jinsol gulps as they head back inside.
Heejin and Hyunjin are already at their places for dinner, Heejin looking like she's itching to spill a secret and Hyunjin staring at Sooyoung. Then at Jinsol.
There's an incredible amount of attention directed at them, and Sooyoung is turning redder by the second.
Well, there’s no use beating around the bush. Jinsol braces herself for the worst, which shouldn’t be so bad.
"We kissed."
Heejin screams. Hyunjin smiles with her dimple.
After the initial excitement and Heejin’s insistence that she hadn’t meant to interrupt, they have dinner. TV night proceeds as usual, Jinsol staring at the screen even if Takeshi's Castle is the furthest thing from her mind.
Sooyoung is at her usual seat. Her cheeks have been tinted with a slight blush for the whole of dinner, hands folded on her lap and attention directed strictly to the screen.
Jinsol gets it; Sooyoung is already a private person by nature and now she has to bear the shame of being caught in a compromising position by her former student. It doesn’t help that Heejin gives her a smug look when she thinks nobody is looking. Though Hyunjin seems to be more respectful of their supervisor’s affairs, constantly pulling Heejin’s attention back to the show.
It isn't even that scandalous; Hyunjin and Heejin definitely have their share of embarrassing reveals, if Sooyoung's short anecdotes are anything to go by. And Jinsol has seen the pink sock pop up in random parts of the Faculty Quarters. It doesn't get more blatant than that.
Does Sooyoung have the same thing in mind? Jinsol takes a page from Heejin's book, tries to steal a glance.
She catches Sooyoung’s gaze, but the captain flushes a shade darker before breaking eye contact.
Jinsol snaps her head to the screen. They’re definitely thinking of the same thing.
She can feel Hyunjin staring at her from the periphery, no doubt sensing her current state of mind. So she makes a conscious effort to steer her train of thought to something more decent.
Which isn’t easy, considering that the humidifier fills the common area with the scent of lavender.
Hyunjin is looking better today, finishing all her food, getting cozy with her girlfriend. There’s Friday conditioning tomorrow which is a litmus test for her performance on Saturday, and assuming she passes, Jinsol will have the rest of the weekend to give her the vial.
If she doesn’t pass, Jinsol has the rest of the weekend to get a voice sample from Heejin and have it processed before sneaking it onto the ship. And cross her fingers.
Her sight finds its way to Sooyoung again. This thing—how far does she want to take it? How deep does it run? What does she want out of it?
Sooyoung turns to her, gaze rooting her to the spot.
A switch flips. Sooyoung's demeanor shifts, body stiff with attention, gaze smoldering with something. Something that gets Jinsol’s heart pumping, vision tunneling.
A blush climbs from Jinsol's neck, up her ears. Is she actually going to get laid before the launch?
But where? When? Is she going to have to use the pink sock trick? Or is the common area a viable place for her first time—
Hyunjin stands, all of a sudden. She opens her mouth to say something, decides against it, then hauls Heejin up and out of the common area.
Leaving Sooyoung and Jinsol alone in the common area thirty minutes before lights out.
The room is tense. They definitely have the same thing in mind, but Jinsol’s brain is malfunctioning and Sooyoung isn’t making a fucking move—
Maybe Jinsol shouldn’t put it that way.
This is harder with the lights on. And the window-wall is right there; security is top notch on KARI and she is 100% sure that this isn’t the first time anybody used the common area for this purpose, but does she really want to get it on like this?
The lights shut off right then, before a quick slam of the sleeping quarters door sounds through the common area.
Damn, leave it to Hyunjin to cover all the bases.
Jinsol lets out an uneasy chuckle. “Having fun with Takeshi’s Castle?”
Sooyoung takes a shaky breath, the light of the TV screen tracing the side of her face, her neck. “The view of the screen is better from here. Want to come closer?”
Thump. “Maybe I will.” Jinsol is standing, each step deliberate. Sooyoung’s eyes are fixed on her. “Don’t want to miss out on the last few days of binge-watching.”
Thump. Sooyoung rests her weight on her palms. She isn’t even facing the screen. “We should make the most of it.”
Thump. Jinsol sinks on the couch, a little too close for comfort. Not close enough. The episode of Takeshi’s Castle is ending now, the screen fading to black. “Too bad there’s only thirty minutes to curfew.”
Sooyoung’s cheeks are tinged pink even in the dark, eyes half-lidded as she leans in. “We have time.”
Jinsol’s eyes flutter closed when they kiss.
Exhilaration. Sooyoung is mesmerizing in the dark, lips rough and hypnotic, hands pushing Jinsol down on the couch. The weight of Sooyoung’s body on hers is good, so good.
Lavender catches in her chest, swirls in her head. Didn’t Jinsol dream of this once, kissing Sooyoung on a couch by a window smaller than the window-wall?
Jinsol lets her hands roam, possessive on Sooyoung’s back, pressing her closer. Sooyoung is here, now, hers for four more days. Elation curls in her chest, urgent need.
Desire simmers when they break apart, the pause heavy with intention. Sooyoung is dazed, lips parted, irises catching the wan window light.
Silent questions, shaky nods. Shuddering breaths when skin meets skin, hands crawling under Sooyoung’s shirt, lips pressing on the hollow under Jinsol’s jaw. Feverish touch from years of yearning, a burning hunger for more.
Fuck, what took them so long?
“I want you,” Sooyoung whispers on the swell of Jinsol’s throat. “Can I?”
Jinsol’s mind is fuzzy with need. “Can you what?”
Sooyoung shifts on top of her, hand reaching for the waistband of her pants. “Can I?”
Holy shit. Sooyoung wants to do the do. “Have sex?”
Sooyoung’s muscles tense all at once and fuck, Jinsol needs to know when to shut up. “Wait,” she says, grip tightening on Sooyoung’s hips, “I want to. I just—I haven’t done this before—”
“You’re still a virgin—”
Their watches beep in sync, cheery blue in the dark. Lights out.
It is deathly awkward in the common area. Sooyoung’s eyes are wide with apprehension, and Jinsol is the biggest idiot in the entire universe.
“Shit,” she says, “did I kill the mood—”
“No.” Sooyoung averts her gaze, props herself up on her elbows. “I—I thought you—God—”
She drops her head on Jinsol’s collar, body slacking on top of hers. “I was about to give you your first time on the Faculty Quarters couch.”
Oh? Jinsol blinks. “That’s it? You just didn’t want my first time to be on the Faculty Quarters couch?”
Sooyoung nods against her collar.
Ah. A relieved chuckle rumbles in Jinsol’s chest. “I don’t mind at all, you know. Beggars can’t be choosers."
She stares at the ceiling of the common area. Lets a hand snake around Sooyoung’s lower back, rests it there. “And it’s not like I have the luxury of time anymore.”
Sooyoung is still flushed all over, skin hot where it meets Jinsol’s. She tucks her head into the crook of Jinsol’s neck. “I thought you met someone else.”
Jinsol swallows the bitter laugh. “I was kind of busy, pulling myself together after what happened.” Three whole years of pulling herself together. What a waste.
Wait a minute. Jinsol lifts her head off the couch. “Wait, was that why—did you think I hit it off with Jungeun?”
There's a pause before Sooyoung exhales, rests more weight on her. “I thought you did.” A hand slips under her shoulder blade, cradles it. “It would have been fine if you did.”
They sink into quiet. Jinsol leans her head back down, stares at the ceiling once more. She’s still riding the high from what just happened, but her thoughts wander to soft memories on a softer couch lit by soft light from a small window.
But the stars are cold and lifeless, Sol.
“I’m happy that I didn’t.” Jinsol presses on the dip in Sooyoung’s spine, conveying what she hopes comes across as assurance. “Because I wouldn’t be here now, with you in my arms—and almost in my pants.”
Sooyoung lifts her head, props herself up on one elbow. There’s fragile tenderness in her eyes, hand moving down from Jinsol’s shoulder blade to her waist.
This is a good thing, being in Sooyoung’s arms like this. Even after everything that happened. The accident, the pain—she can still make something good come out of it. Even if she doesn’t make it back.
Jinsol meets her gaze. “I only have four days left, Sooyoung. I want to make the most of them. I want to make the most of them with you.”
Sooyoung shifts closer, hand tracing Jinsol’s waist up her torso, her collar, the side of her face. Brushing her bangs to one side. “I want that too.”
It’s easy to pick up from where they left off. The kisses are second nature now, hands eager and bolder. More deliberate. More conscious of the seconds they have left. It’s easier for Jinsol to content herself with this when Sooyoung is here, now, lavender in her hair and promise on her lips.
Sooyoung breaks the kiss, presses her lips to Jinsol’s throat, making her way to Jinsol's collarbone. “I want you to leave without regrets, Sol.” She shifts down, lifts Jinsol’s shirt just enough for cold air to reach inside it. “What can I give you?”
It’s impossible to think about the asteroid when Sooyoung is here, right now, leaving kiss trails down Jinsol’s stomach, fingers teasing at the waistband of her pants. Anticipation builds in her chest, years-long desire finally, finally coming to a head.
“I want you,” is all Jinsol can say.
And Sooyoung does just that— shit, she does it so well.
Jinsol has never felt like this before, hot coiling in her abdomen, nerve endings fried, and the thought of Sooyoung going to town between her legs had always just been a thought—
Shit! Jinsol’s body is arching on its own. Sooyoung’s grip on her thighs is keeping her in place, tongue sending her places—
Wow.
So that’s what detonating a nuclear warhead must feel like.
The beeping of her watch pulls at her attention. Ah, moderate to intense heartbeat.
Jinsol is spent. Her skin is tingling with warmth, chest heaving, muscles both tense and lax. Her mind is empty, barely registering her pants being pulled back into place.
Then Sooyoung is there, crouching by the couch, hand brushing the bangs off of Jinsol’s sweaty forehead. “Good?”
Good? “Fuck,” says Jinsol between breaths, “Sooyoung, you took me to the stars.”
Sooyoung’s gaze is teeming with deep affection. Her hand moves to cup Jinsol’s cheek, warm on flushed skin. “Good.”
“Wait—” Jinsol reaches for the hand on her cheek, grips Sooyoung's wrist. Her mind is still hazy from what just happened, but she knows there should be something for Sooyoung too. “Shouldn’t I do something for you?”
Sooyoung shakes her head, lips curling in a smile. “We still have training tomorrow, Sol. You need to rest.”
It doesn’t sit right with Jinsol to be a pillow princess for her first time having sex, but Sooyoung plants a chaste kiss on her forehead, a silent assurance.
They have time.
Jinsol kisses Sooyoung one more time before getting up from the couch. This is something good, isn’t it? This elation in her chest.
Their hands entwine, a warm smile on Sooyoung's face as they make their way to the sleeping quarters. Jinsol can get used to this, can make the most of every second before the launch.
Sooyoung’s pillow is still in Jinsol’s bed, so Jinsol pulls her into bed, pulls her into an embrace. Pulls the Doraemon quilt over the both of them. Sooyoung’s face is warm tucked into her neck, long arms wrapping around her torso. And there’s nothing more Jinsol would want than to have this for as long as she can.
They have time. They still have time.
***
Jinsol has seventy-seven hours before the launch, starting at 7 A.M. on her last Friday on Earth.
To her credit, she already has a battle plan for the coming days. Accomplish her training and pass the evaluations. Ensure the viability of her plan to fly the ship alone. Make the most of her time left with Sooyoung.
She spends the first minute kissing a half-awake Sooyoung on the cheek.
Off to a good start.
“So, unnie,” Heejin greets from the easel as Jinsol heads to morning ping pong with Hyunjin, “how was last night?” She wiggles her brows, no doubt pleased with the turn of events.
Jinsol indulges her with a cheeky grin. “I’d tell you to stay away from that couch, but you’ve probably used it yourself.”
Heejin laughs, eyes lighting up. She dips her brush in some paint, adds details to a portrait of Jinsol and Hyunjin. “I’m happy for you and Teach.”
It means a lot. Jinsol runs to the easel just to ruffle her hair before heading to the activities hall.
But what exactly does “make the most of her time with Sooyoung” entail? Jinsol thinks it through while rallying with Hyunjin.
“So,” she asks while sending Hyunjin a topspin ball, “what’s stopping you from having sex with Heejin at every waking moment?”
It’s a joke, but Hyunjin’s eyes bug out. Her paddle slips from her grip, clattering across the table.
“Jinsol-unnie,” she says in full seriousness, “are you a nympho—”
“No!” Jinsol does not need to hear it. “It was a joke. Chill.” She picks up Hyunjin’s paddle, passes it back to her. “And you have no right to call me that. I’ve seen Heejin’s pink sock enough times.”
Hyunjin stares at her, then nods. She readies for another rally. “What do you want to talk about, then?”
It’s a straightforward question. The ball launches across the table, a forehand serve.
Jinsol snaps it back, receives another forehand. “I want to make the most of the time before the launch.” Hyunjin engages her whole torso for each return; she’s looking better, and Jinsol struggles to keep up. “But you know the history—there’s a lot to catch up to. So maybe you can give me some tips, experienced girlfriend Hyunjin.”
Hyunjin’s brow furrows in thought as she swings. Jinsol waits for her to speak, responding in kind, keeping the rally up.
“Jinsol-unnie,” Hyunjin finally says with a backspin cut, “there won’t ever be enough time.”
Jinsol misses the ball. It clatters on the padded flooring, rolls away.
Hyunjin looks at her, solemn. Earnest. “Even if you try to make the most of it. There still won’t be enough time.” She takes a ping pong ball from her side of the floor. “But that’s okay.”
“I’m sure Heejin would love to hear that.” Jinsol grimaces; Hyunjin’s words are poking at an open wound in her chest. “Seriously, though. You’re telling me this right after telling me to ‘go for it’ with Sooyoung?”
“I’m happy you did,” says Hyunjin. “But I mean what I said. Even if I spend every hour of these last days with Heejin, it won’t be enough. You need to be okay with that. Or you’re in for a world of hurt.”
The sentiment sours Jinsol’s mood.
Maybe it’s ironic, since she’s already done so much so that Hyunjin can stay behind and have enough time with Heejin. But Hyunjin wouldn’t say these things to hurt her.
Jinsol just doesn’t think she can die without regrets if the next three days won't be enough.
“Speaking from experience?” she asks, readying for another rally.
“I am,” Hyunjin admits plainly.
They start again.
The sight of Sooyoung at the common area calms the discontent in Jinsol’s chest, somewhat. She’s already dressed for conditioning, setting their breakfast down on the table. Hair loosening from her low ponytail, framing her face.
Sooyoung lifts her head, sets her sights on Jinsol. Lips curving in a smile when Jinsol comes close to kiss her.
Jinsol gets it now, what Hyunjin was trying to say. There’s no conceivable way to express the overwhelming affection that floods her chest in the span of the next three days. Not when she herself has yet to understand its depth and magnitude.
But that won't stop her from trying.
Conditioning is, unsurprisingly, still hell.
It is, surprisingly, harder to concentrate now that Sooyoung’s words and actions take on a completely different meaning.
“Tighter, Sol,” Sooyoung instructs, hand warm on Jinsol’s abs. She’s speaking a little too close to her ear. “Engage your core.”
It isn’t her imagination, she’s sure. Hyunjin across her is respectfully staring at her shoes. Heejin is already a deep shade of red.
“Clench some more,” she says, letting her hand skim Jinsol’s ribs before pulling away, moving on to the next drill.
Jinsol is seconds away from busting a vein when Sooyoung finally announces the water break. Which is perfect, because she’s parched.
“Hey unnie,” Heejin says, approaching her by the water dispenser, “if you need the sleeping quarters for afternoon break, Hyunjin and I can take the activities hall—”
Jinsol spits out her water.
Sooyoung calls Jinsol to the conference room right as the afternoon break starts.
Of course the first thing that comes to Jinsol’s mind is a continuation of the night before, but the view on the meeting tablet screen goes above and beyond her expectations.
It’s her house by the East Sea. Her mom, healthy. Happy to see her.
Jinsol shakes off the surprise, looks to Sooyoung. “I thought it wasn’t allowed?”
“You have thirty minutes,” she replies.
There’s a special kind of relief that comes with seeing her mother one last time.
Jinsol makes the most of every second: Apologizing for the fight, regaling her with stories of training, listening to her talk about what happened in the past two months.
“You always loved the stars,” says her mom, arms crossed and cheeky grin on her face. “Looks like Gundam brought you something good after all.”
It’s good, this time spent with her mother, an assurance that she will be fine after Jinsol leaves.
At the end of the call, Jinsol’s heart is both full and hollow. Because there's a special kind of loss that comes with seeing her mother one last time.
“She called KARI early in the training period.” Sooyoung takes the meeting tablet from Jinsol’s hands, returns it to its slot on the table. “It took weeks for approval, but we made it in time for the launch.”
The warmth, it’s startling. Jinsol commits to memory every detail: Sooyoung tucking her hair behind her ear, gaze tender as she comes closer.
But why does every detail stretch the hole in her heart instead of fill it?
“I want to kiss you,” Jinsol says. There’s no time for regret. And there's a hollow in her chest that might start hurting.
Sooyoung startles, opens her mouth to answer, then reconsiders. Her expression shifts to something dark. “Then kiss me, Sol.”
The sleeping quarters is, as Heejin promised, empty.
“Sol—” Sooyoung gasps when Jinsol presses her to the door, skin already flush with want. “Sol, can we—”
“I want to,” Jinsol’s mind is racing, hands desperate on Sooyoung’s hips, “I want to touch you, but I’m not experienced—”
Hands cup her cheeks, pull her into a deep kiss. “You can touch me,” Sooyoung whispers open-mouthed, eyes dark with clear intent.
So Jinsol does, in Sooyoung’s bed, a trail of their clothes leading to the door. She’s rough and clumsy and Sooyoung takes it in, chest heaving, constant praises on her lips. It’s not enough; Jinsol wants to unravel her, to give her the best sex of her life—
“God,” Sooyoung whimpers, forearm pressed to her eyes, “I can’t let you go.”
Jinsol’s heart is wrenched from her chest.
It’s silent in the sleeping quarters, Sooyoung covering her face, Jinsol kneeling between her legs. Souls bare, bones defeated. Because Hyunjin was right; nothing can fill the space that Jinsol will leave behind.
It hurts, this sight of Sooyoung crying.
“I’m sorry, Sol.” Sooyoung breathes in, lifting her arm off wet eyes. “I have to burden you one last time—”
“Sooyoung, I’m the one burdening you.” Tears are hot on Jinsol’s cheeks, falling on naked skin. “I’m dying and all I could think about was how to make it easier for myself to leave you.”
Sooyoung shakes her head, reaches forward to pull Jinsol to herself. Lets her embrace share what words cannot express, consolation for a loss that is yet to come.
Their bodies rest together, settling chest to chest on Sooyoung’s bed. Breaths slow, limbs tangled, lavender soothing Jinsol's restlessness. There’s still time for lunch before afternoon training, but neither of them make a move to get up.
They can bask in this warmth a little longer.
"You know," Jinsol mumbles on Sooyoung’s cheek, "most of the stars we see are still alive."
It’s an echo of a conversation from years before. Sooyoung seems to recognize it, hand smoothing over the small of Jinsol’s back, asking her to continue.
So she does. "That time at the dorm, on the couch by the window. You were talking about dead stars and I said it didn't matter that they were dead because their light still reached the Earth. But most of the stars we see are still alive.
"And it mattered to me, that they were still alive." Tears trail from Jinsol’s skin to Sooyoung’s. "Even if I said it didn't. It made me happy to know they were alive."
Sooyoung’s arms snake around her, pressing her closer.
The regret stings. “I wanted to kiss you on that couch.” Jinsol curls into Sooyoung’s embrace. "I should have."
"I wish I did." Sooyoung murmurs. “But I was afraid, Sol. To lose you, to let you go.” She crushes Jinsol to her chest. “I can’t let my fear burden you any more than it has.”
Fear—is that what’s stopping Jinsol from wanting to come back? The odds of her return are dismal even if she tells Dr. Son to plug the nanodocket into her suit. But Jinsol feels Sooyoung’s heartbeat from this close, in this tight embrace. Hears her breathing.
Regret transforms, becomes longing. “What if I want you to burden me?”
Sooyoung meets Jinsol’s gaze, expression tentative. What does she see in Jinsol’s eyes? Delusion? Desperation?
Hope?
“If you held on to me,” says Jinsol, bringing her lips closer to Sooyoung’s, “maybe I could find my way back to you.”
Because the barrier is a shot in the dark, one Jinsol wouldn’t take if not for the glimmer of hope in Sooyoung’s eyes.
Jinsol sends the email to Dr. Son during dinner.
Sooyoung knows the plan now, knows that Hyunjin isn’t coming along for the ride. Knows the slim chance afforded to Jinsol by a bunch of smuggled barrier bots. But she presses herself to Jinsol's side throughout TV night, cocoons Jinsol’s body when they tuck themselves into her bed.
Hope is a dangerous drug, dulling Jinsol’s senses, filling her with longing when all that should come is resignation. But Sooyoung’s warmth is something Jinsol wants to have for as long as she can.
This warmth can last her through the coldness of space.
Fifty-three hours.
Hyunjin passes the medical exam. It's a surprise when she runs to Jinsol in the Medical Bay, and wraps her in a tight embrace. There's elation in her partner's tone, relief.
"This is it, Jinsol-unnie," she says before letting go, running as fast as she can to Heejin.
They celebrate the culmination of their training with a feast sponsored by the Divert Project, presented to them via video conference by Chef Ronald Batou. The food is the most delicious she’s ever tasted, made especially for them. A send-off meal that sears itself into Jinsol's subconscious.
There’s a silent agreement between Hyunjin and Heejin to drag some extra mattresses into the library, one that Sooyoung allows and Jinsol wholeheartedly supports.
Curfew is lifted for the night.
“I think this is a good way to go,” says Hyunjin in the common area, sipping on a midnight cup of hot chocolate. The drug is already swirling in her drink; Heejin was easy to distract with a conversation on paints. “Drinking hot chocolate while watching TV.”
“It better be,” says Heejin from the easel. She’s adding some final touches to the portrait of Jinsol and Hyunjin. “That’s my favorite brand. I don’t make it for just anyone.”
Jinsol takes a sip of her own cup. Sooyoung is beside her on the couch, eyes fixed on her former students. The care is there, mixed with a little wistfulness. No despondency, though; Jinsol is glad to lift that burden off her shoulders.
“Unnie.” Heejin pivots on her chair, facing Jinsol. Her nose is red; she’s holding back some tears. “I’m glad to have met you. There’s no one else I’d trust to go with Hyunjin to space.”
The words are warm, sincere. Hyunjin turns to Heejin with tenderness. It’s worth it, all the effort Jinsol is pulling to keep these two together.
Sooyoung turns to Jinsol, asks her a silent question. Jinsol shakes her head.
“Thanks, Heejin.” Jinsol says instead, giving a cheeky smile. “I wouldn’t trust anyone else, either.”
Twenty-nine hours.
Jinsol thinks she makes the most of what could be her last day on Earth.
And Hyunjin’s right; it’s still not enough. It would never have been enough.
But it’s not the end. Not when Sooyoung clings to her so tightly, not when Jinsol refuses to let go.
Jinsol wakes up an hour early on the 29th of November, six hours before the launch.
Sooyoung stirs when Jinsol kisses her on the cheek, smile faltering, hand reaching to cup Jinsol's face.
They sit up, watching each other, one hand crawling to meet another. Shared gaze brimming with words unsaid.
The Sooyoung from three years ago melds with Sooyoung here and now, looking at Jinsol with love.
“Make it back to me,” she says, entwining their fingers.
***
Jinsol’s mind is clear when they enter the loading dock. No more flashing lights and sounding shutters, no more looking back to what could have been.
Just moving forward.
Debriefing chamber. Hyunjin nods at her with determination, hands her the pen to affix her signature on her last will and testament.
Decontamination chamber. They don the suits as rehearsed. In another life, on a non-lethal trip to space, it would have been great to team up with Hyunjin for a mission.
The nanodocket for Hyunjin’s serum is where it should be in Jinsol’s hand. The nanodocket for the barrier is where Jungeun said it would be, over Jinsol’s heart.
Lift chamber. Jinsol takes Hyunjin’s hand, squeezes it. Even with the helmets on, Jinsol can hear the sound of her breathing through the local line.
It’s going to be fine.
They make it to the loading bridge. Jinsol counts the steps to the other side of the bridge, gets to nine as Hyunjin presses the panel of the ship entrance.
Right before Hyunjin steps inside, Jinsol activates the hypnotic.
It works— shit, it works. Hyunjin stiffens first, heavy as she crumples in Jinsol’s arms.
Jinsol braces herself for alarms, military personnel that never come.
It works, the plan works. Jungeun and Dr. Son pulled through. Hyunjin—she’s saving Hyunjin.
Before the door can close, Jinsol drapes her partner by the entrance and steps inside the ship.
It’s all autopilot now. Jinsol’s footsteps thud hollow on the ship walls as she makes her way up to the flight deck, towards the red dot in the sky. She trained for this, climbing into her seat, locking herself in place. The voice filter works when the command center rings through the radio, though her tongue is heavy and dry in her mouth. She receives the signal to start the launch.
Her hand is shaking uncontrollably over the flight panel.
She gets it now, what Mark Tuan felt, what Hyunjin felt, pressing buttons that will lead to her demise. Her helmet is heavy, body frozen.
Shit. She's scared. She's so scared.
What if she screws up the entire planet? What if the nanotech barrier fails her, and she dies in the nuclear explosion? What if she lives, but waits in vain for salvation that never comes?
What if Sooyoung never sees her again?
Make it back to me.
She's Jung Jinsol. Brilliant enough to save the planet. And if she isn't brilliant enough to save herself, then nobody is.
If she can't make it back to Sooyoung, nobody can.
She rests her hand on the final panel. The rumble of the ship reaches her back and legs unlike any simulation, echoing in the hollow of her chest.
The 120 hours before impact are both the longest and shortest hours of Jinsol’s life. On Earth it's sixteen days, but time dilates and contracts in space, the way Jinsol perceives it.
She spends a good amount of it like she'd trained for, monitoring the ship’s performance, adjusting the trajectory. Keeping her mind busy on the things she can work on.
When she has nothing to do, she stares at the asteroid. The window of the ship fills her line of sight with the view of space, the asteroid emitting red light and heat like a dying star.
She stares it down like Mankind’s Only Hope should, until a monitor beeps for her attention. Then it’s back to clockwork, floating or walking around the ship like a busy bee.
There’s no communications line on the ship; a feature intended by the Divert Project to remove all distractions from the Kamikaze Two. So Jinsol doesn’t know if Dr. Son and Jungeun will get arrested for interfering with the launch, if Hyunjin will blame herself for the sudden turn of events. If Heejin will be relieved. If her mom—her mom said she will be fine, so Jinsol trusts that she is.
She dreams of Sooyoung when she sleeps.
Five minutes before impact, Jinsol dons her suit. Takes a dose of the hypnotic, sets its timer to activate on collision. She crushes the nanodocket under a spare pistol-grip tool, just as Dr. Son instructed.
The heat of the asteroid has been apparent for the past eight hours, the sight looming from the window of the ship.
The ship is functioning perfectly; Jinsol is sure of it. The Zero-G protocol is off, so she floats to the part of the ship closest to Earth. Braces for what comes.
Seconds before the impact, Jinsol’s hand hovers over the nanodocket on her chest—
She hurtles through space. No amount of Zero-G training could ever have prepared her for this—spinning, flying, crashing into stray ship parts that send her in different directions until finally, finally, she drifts.
Floats.
The drug is kicking in, the edge of her consciousness dulling with each passing second. Or minute? Her arm monitor beeps red, heart rate slowing down, temperature lower, eyesight blurring when she tries to read.
The cold seeps into her limbs, familiar. The darkness of space feels too much like the sleeping quarters at night.
Oh, there are stars all around. Beautiful, bright, alive. Jinsol in her youth would have loved to see this. But the last stars on her mind are those that used to twinkle in Sooyoung's eyes.
Will she see her again?
Jinsol closes her eyes, falls asleep.
***
She finds herself in the student dormitory at night. On the beat-up couch by the laundry and shower area, propped next to a window smaller than the window-wall. Sooyoung across from her on the couch, long arms wrapped around long legs, eyes twinkling like the stars.
“You really like the stars, don't you?”
Jinsol blinks. She remembers this, a conversation before the accident. But what of the ship, the explosion? The barrier—she activated it in time she's sure—
“Of course I do. That's why I became an astronaut.”
Jinsol's mouth moves on its own.
Ah, this is a dream. Sooyoung's eyes here still shine like they once did, before the accident. Shining, fixed on Jinsol.
“Because you loved the stars?”
"It's a much better reason than 'because my dad said so.'"
Jinsol winces. Maybe she was more of an ass than she remembered.
There's a pause for breath where her mind wanders. Is she alive, dreaming while in stasis? Is she dead, in some sort of wistful purgatory? And another question: did the asteroid diversion succeed?
Sooyoung draws Jinsol from her thoughts as she draws her knees closer to her chest. Mumbles.
“Why do you love them?”
Jinsol feels it, the sudden flush of her cheeks, the butterflies in her stomach. She didn’t know then what she knows now, that Sooyoung was dethroning the place in her heart that used to only hold the stars.
The truth overwhelms her. She wants to say it, scream it: I loved you, I just didn’t know it yet—
“They’re beautiful.”
Jinsol was looking at Sooyoung then.
“They’re beautiful, seemingly distant. It makes me want to reach for them, to see how close I can get—”
“But the stars are cold and lifeless, Sol.”
Sooyoung is looking at her, inexplicably broken.
“My sister told me once, that there was no way to know if the stars in the sky are still alive. Their light takes years to reach the Earth—they could be dead long before we know it. Such as Betelgeuse.”
Was that how she looked, back then? How did Jinsol miss the hurt in her eyes?
"How can you tell, Sol, that the stars you love so much aren’t already dead?"
And Jinsol understands now, the way Sooyoung looks at her. The fear of losing her to the coldness of space. So intimate in its familiarity.
"Does it matter?"
Jinsol smiled then.
“Sooyoung, look at it like this. Whether or not they're dead, their light still persists. Reaches the Earth, refracts in our eyes and we register them to be there.
“Even when they die they’re still beautiful. Even when they fail, their light still guides us. Betelgeuse is still the armpit of Orion, isn’t it?”
Sooyoung had snorted, so far-off from her formal demeanor. It spurred Jinsol on.
“We’re dying stars, Sooyoung. The least we could do while we’re alive is be better than someone’s armpit—”
Sooyoung closed the distance then, hand crawling to meet another. It was warm then, warm now. Jinsol basks in it.
Won’t let go of it.
The stars in Sooyoung’s eyes—she’ll see them again.
She'll make it back to her, endure the cold for one more chance at warmth.
---
artworks by @chuubatak
Snow scene
artwork by ao3 user Penguinnie
"Make it back to me"
