CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR.

SEPTEMBER 5, 2016.

Starting out at a new high school, especially one where everyone was a stranger, was the perfect opportunity to fit in for once. Gone were all the people from junior high who were quick to judge. Gone were all the old cliques that had been established since the time they were all in first grade. Gone were the preconceived notions that someone different than everyone else was immediately labeled negatively. This was high school, a new beginning, and a fresh start where maybe she could actually be happy.

At least that was what Emily Peterson hoped as her grandmother drove her to the first day of school. Due to an influx of population in her town, the school boards rezoned the district to determine where students went to school. Because Emily's house was near the outskirts of town, she qualified to go to the high school in the next town over, a school that was actually miles closer to her house. When faced with the decision to switch schools, Emily jumped at the opportunity to go somewhere new. With surrounding towns also forced to rezone, this meant there would be plenty of students like her, switching schools and starting anew with a fresh group of people.

Emily could only pray the kids in her new school were different than the ones at her old school. While she was never teased or tormented by others, Emily still felt like an outsider. Sometimes she actually wished some of the popular kids would make fun of her; at least that would prove they knew she existed. Instead, she was ignored, left completely alone, given the occasional glance of pity. Pity was the worst but that was the only emotion Emily and her crutches ever received from her fellow classmates.

"I think this school is going to work out just fine for you," her grandmother said, as she slowly drove toward the school.

Emily tried to duck her head down when carloads of students drove by her grandmother's old Buick but the kids were going so fast they probably wouldn't have seen her anyway. Emily began to wonder if maybe she should've taken the bus. The 'special' bus as the school called the lone bus in their fleet that was handicapped-accessible was much smaller than the other busses. And having had previous experience with these small busses, Emily knew the moment anyone saw her coming off that one, she would immediately be labeled a weirdo. Hopefully, her grandmother would drop her off at a side exit where nobody could see.

"Now just try to open up and be yourself with all the new kids today," her grandmother said. "Maybe you'll make some friends if you don't walk around with that chip on your shoulder."

Although she hated to admit it, Emily knew her grandmother spoke some truth. Emily never made a single friend after the accident and her mother's death. Whenever anyone tried talking to her, she always sensed they were doing so out of pity for the loss of her mother or because she was handicapped. Pity made Emily angry and this anger made her a difficult person to approach. Besides, she knew none of the cool kids would want to be her friend. And that only left the 'nerds' and the 'losers,' and she did not want to be lumped into either of those groups.

But high school was going to be different, she just knew it. Emily knew the new kids wouldn't be so close-minded and judgmental as everyone she'd ever gone to school with. These kids would be open and accepting and would not see her merely as 'the handicapped girl.'

Or maybe they would be just like every other kid she'd known and Emily would once again fall into the role of being an outcast for the next four years. Don't think like that, she tried to convince herself. This is the first time in your life that you have a reason to be hopeful.

When she finally saw the school, Emily frantically searched for a side entrance and cursed herself for not looking up a picture of the school on the Internet. She clearly saw the main entrance, where all the busses stopped. This was also where Emily's grandmother was headed. Although she did not see another entrance, Emily knew it would be disastrous if her grandmother pulled up right in front of everyone.

"You can drop me off on the side of school," Emily said, suddenly panicked when her grandmother pulled into the line of vehicles waiting to stop in front of the main entrance.

"But I'm already in line, dear," her grandmother said as the long line moved steadily forward.

"So then get out of the line," Emily pleaded. "I want to be dropped off on the side of the building instead of the front."

Emily's grandmother began to pull out of line but slammed on the brakes when she almost hit a red sports car that drove quickly around the line. The girl driving the car was blonde and pretty, probably a cheerleader of some sort. Whoever she was, the pretty girl honked her horn longer than necessary and gave Emily a dirty look when she drove by. Emily's grandmother did not make a second attempt to get out of the line.

"There's no need for me to drop you off all the way over there," the old woman said. "You'd have to walk back over here anyway."

"But I don't-"

"And I'm not risking it around these crazy teenage drivers," her grandmother continued. "It's a miracle they don't kill everybody on the road."

Once her grandmother pulled the old Buick forward a few more feet and came to another stop, Emily threw open her door and unbuckled her seat belt.

"I'll just get out here," she said as she quickly got out of the car and slid her forearms into the crutches. "I could use the exercise anyway. Thanks for the ride, grandma."

"But what about-"

Emily slammed the door and walked away, quickly reaching the sidewalk that led to the main entrance of the school. Even though she heard honking behind her, Emily did not turn around and look back at her grandmother. At least she did not notice anyone staring at her or her crutches yet.

Not quite over the awkward stage of adolescence, Emily was like a flower just starting to bloom, but not nearly blossomed. Sometimes when she was alone in her room, she would pull back her long curly hair and stare at her face in the mirror, amazed at who she saw looking back at her. Never one to hold a high opinion about herself, Emily was actually satisfied with her face. Her eyes were a dark blue unlike any she'd ever seen, and her skin was smooth and soft, never ravaged by acne that affected so many kids her age.

But that was the only credit she was willing to afford herself. Like most girls her age, Emily was self-conscious about her body. Even though her grandmother always complained she was too skinny, Emily did not think it was possible to ever be thin enough. At least she was happy with her arms, which were lean and muscular from having to work the crutches whenever she walked.

Her clothes were a different story. No matter how hard she tried, Emily could never keep up with the trends. Her grandmother did not have much money so Emily could not afford the expensive clothes that helped give the cool girls their popularity. And whenever Emily did attempt to be trendy and wear something different, it always made her feel weird and awkward instead of cool.

As she approached the entrance, she saw the blonde from the sports car walking from the student parking lot. She was even prettier than Emily first thought, tall and thin but perfectly proportioned in a way that made every guy stare in her direction. She was also perfectly dressed, as if she had stepped out of a fashion magazine. This girl's shirt alone must've cost as much as Emily's entire wardrobe...

While Emily stared in jealous awe at this girl, she did not notice her grandmother's car pull to a stop right in front of the school. The pretty girl just reached the sidewalk in front of the huge Buick when a loud honking noise made everybody turn. Emily quickly turned away in embarrassment. Although not looking, Emily could still hear the sound of her grandmother's voice.

"You better watch where you're driving next time, young lady," she yelled out the window. "You use that little red car of yours like a weapon. You'll be lucky if you don't kill someone with it next time."

"Whatever, old lady. Maybe you should get some thicker glasses or get that boat of yours off the road before you kill someone," the pretty girl said, as she walked away and joined a group of her friends near the entrance.

The students within earshot began laughing. Emily was thoroughly embarrassed by her grandmother, but equally impressed that the pretty girl had the gall to speak like that to a complete stranger. Emily thanked her lucky stars she got out of the car when she did. If she had been in the car when her grandmother started yelling, everyone would have known that she was with- "Emily!" her grandmother yelled. "Emily!"

Emily closed her eyes and wished her grandmother would just disappear. But when she heard the familiar honking of the old Buick, she knew she had no such luck. She refused to turn around, though.

That was until she heard the car door open and rows of cars behind honking simultaneously. When Emily finally turned around, her grandmother stood directly in front of her, her arm extended.

"You forgot your backpack, dear," she said, handing Emily the same black bag that she'd used the last two years. "Have a nice day. And remember, be friendly with others or they won't be friendly with you."

Emily wanted to run away and cry but her feet stayed planted right where they were. She took the bag and slung it over her shoulder, watching in shock as her grandmother got back in the car and drove away. Emily had that familiar feeling that people were staring at her. Even worse, after she passed the pretty girl and her group of friends, she heard the tiny clan giggling and knew it was at her expense.

Before she even walked through the entrance, Emily knew that nothing would be different at her new school.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX.

SEPTEMBER 10, 2016.

Wesley Maddox lay next to a beautiful woman on a private beach, the sound of crashing waves like music to his ears. A cold beer sat in the cup holder of his lounge chair and a tray of lobster and jumbo shrimp was within arm's reach. This was truly a paradise, a place he never wanted to leave. He felt so relaxed that he could just go to sleep. But he was already sleeping, and though in the back of his mind he knew this whole thing was a figment of his imagination, Maddox did not care. One day, this dream would become a reality.

So when he heard a voice calling him from somewhere far across the ocean a voice growing louder each time it said his name he knew his dream was coming to an abrupt end. He turned and faced the beautiful woman one last time. While the setting of this dream always remained the same, the woman lying next to him always changed.

When his eyes snapped open, the bright sunlight was replaced by fluorescent lighting that reminded him of being in school again. His lounge chair was replaced by a bed that was a plastic slab, a sleeping bag and straps. There was nothing even close to replacing his beer and seafood, and his beautiful female companion was replaced by a large, hairy Russian.

"Wesley, are you awake?" Slava Kovalchuk asked.

"Yeah, Slava. What is it?" Maddox asked, groggily rubbing his eyes. He looked at the digital clock on the far wall and saw that he'd been asleep for four straight hours, the longest amount of successive hours he'd slept in months.

"Team One just radio in with good news, sir," Slava said, still speaking quietly though Maddox was awake.

"The corridor is finished?" Maddox asked.

"Yes," Slava answered. "Tests have been complete and one of men has finished walkthrough."

"That's great news, Slava," Maddox said, finding it hard to convey any sort of excitement.

"Okay, sir. I will let you go back to sleep," the Russian said, turning around and floating back toward mission control.

Maddox knew the schedule Team One was following in the final procedures for the third corridor. The project leader did not think he would sleep this long, expecting to already be awake for the final walkthrough. Even if he missed the completion of the corridor, it made little difference. The walkthrough was really a formality, as the main construction to the corridor was finished days ago. Therefore, Maddox was disappointed that his favorite dream had ended so unexpectedly.

Though he was annoyed at Slava's interruption, Maddox quickly felt guilty for having any sort of negative feeling toward the Russian. Kovalchuk had returned to space only a week earlier after having been gone for nearly nine months. Slava's training program still took place but with the selection of the first training crew for space work, the Russian felt it time to turn the program over to the other teachers and return to space.

Maddox was thrilled to have him back. The two of them worked so closely during the first few years of construction that it felt strange to work alone. Not only had Slava's absence left Maddox with more pressure and greater responsibility, it left the project leader alone in mission control. The two did not normally speak at length, but it was always nice to have a second opinion on matters, especially the opinion of a man with as much knowledge and experience as Slava.

Maddox closed his eyes and desperately hoped to fall back asleep. He pictured his beach and tried to persuade himself that he could hear the rolling ocean waves, but that gentle sound was replaced by the constant low buzzing of the lights overhead. Frustration grew the longer Maddox stayed awake. The harder he tried to fall asleep, the less likely it would actually happen. After ten minutes of restlessness, he felt more awake than sleepy and knew his beach dreams would have to wait for another day.

He maneuvered his arms out of the sleeping bag and unbuckled the three straps that ran across his body. His sleeping quarters were cold, as every area of space always felt, so he opened one of the nearby storage compartments and found his favorite sweatshirt. Maddox floated out of his room and joined Slava in mission control, where the Russian finished a conversation with the leader of Team One.

"I'm sorry I woke you," Slava said. "I should have let you finish sleep. I was excited. It was first corridor I witness being complete."

The Russian had been overseeing the construction training program on Earth when the first two corridors were completed so Maddox understood his excitement. The project leader could remember the thrill he felt when the first corridor's walkthrough was complete, though that feeling was likely due to his increased adrenaline level from being the corridor's first user.

"That's okay. I got my four hours of sleep. That's the most I've gotten in months," Maddox said.

Maddox strapped himself into the seat next to Slava and did not stifle the yawn that followed.

"Now is the time I really miss coffee," he said.

The two men stared out at the ever-forming space station in front of them. With three of the four main corridors completed and the fourth nearly done, the space station was truly taking shape. Team Five was the only crew currently working and they had made significant progress on the fourth corridor over the last month. This final corridor would be the second one attached to the mission control corner. Maddox knew he and Slava would have to temporarily abandon their home within a few weeks once the corridor was finally attached. Shuttle Exploration was scheduled to leave its corner piece and attach to mission control by the end of the week. At that time, Team One would join Team Five in working on the fourth corridor, thus cutting the time to finish.

Once the fourth corridor was done, a new work schedule would start with only two of the original five construction teams working in space at the same time. These two teams would begin construction on the cross-corridors. When these two corridors were complete, the framework of the space station would be complete.

That left the third construction crew to begin working on pod attachment. Before Slava rejoined Maddox in space, the Russian helped decide which of the fifteen teams-in-training would be selected to install the first pods. Ever since returning to mission control, Slava couldn't stop bragging about the young kids in the program and how quickly they learned. He was particularly boastful of the team selected and spoke fondly about its team leader, a twenty-two year old girl named Lillian Edwards. Maddox saw the pride in Slava's eyes when he talked about the kids; it reminded him of the way parents brag about their overachieving children. Maddox completely trusted Slava's ability to judge talent. He knew that whoever came to space next would work out just fine.

Maddox was more concerned that his crewmembers would rest longer between stints in space. He knew how exhausted he felt from adhering to such a grueling schedule and Maddox wasn't even doing any physical labor. He could not imagine having the strength to do such mentally and physically strenuous labor for such lengthy periods of time, working in such a dangerous and harsh environment that could prove deadly with the slightest mistake.

But his crew pulled through over the last few years and laid the groundwork for the most impressive structure ever built. They lost two of their own along the way and all the crewmembers likely shaved years off their life expectancies, but they had done the impossible. Close bonds were formed among the crew, similar to the bonds formed by soldiers during times of war. Maddox would never forget the accomplishments of these original fifty crewmembers and he would forever be grateful and appreciative of their efforts.

The crew truly made Maddox's job as project leader an easy one. But he knew that would soon change. Once the 'program kids' came to space during the next crew switch, Maddox realized his easy days would quickly end. He would have to tackle the same problems he'd dealt with during the first days in space.

Dealing with fresh meat would be a challenge but if Maddox did it once, there was no doubt in his mind that he could do it again- A burst of static from the communication system snapped the project leader out of his silent thoughts. He continued to listen to the static until he discerned the sound of a distant voice.

"Does that sound like person to you?" Slava asked.

"That's exactly what it sounds like," Maddox said, now leaning forward in his seat to see if he could hear better. "Play with the frequency, see if you can get rid of the static."

Slava turned a few knobs on the radio and soon they heard the voice clearly. The person speaking over the radio was not part of the construction crew, nor was he from mission control on Earth. At first, Maddox figured somebody on Earth must have a strong radio signal if they were able to pick up transmissions this far in space.

But then he recognized the heavy Asian accent.

"United States Space Station, please come in," the voice said, stopping for a few moments before repeating the same message. "United States Space Station, please come in."

The man spoke grammatically correct English though his accent was so heavy that Maddox had trouble understanding. Maddox still perceived the fear and distress in his voice.

"United States Space Station, please come in."

Maddox turned to Slava and saw that the Russian appeared just as surprised.

"What do you think this is all about?" Maddox asked.

"I do not know, sir," Slava answered.

Maddox was well aware of the tension between Slava's country and China. The two huge countries had been at odds for years now, on the brink of war several times. Slava never hid the fact that he felt contempt for the Chinese, especially when they found out that China was building its own space station. Luckily, the America station and the Chinese one had taken up orbits on the opposite side of the globe. Until now, there was no sort of communication between the two during the months since China began their construction.

"He sounds upset," Maddox said. "Ask him who he is and what he wants."

Reluctantly, Slava leaned forward and did as he was told.

"This is the United States Space Station," the Russian said, his voice monotone and cold. "Please identify yourself. Over."

Maddox concentrated so he could understand what the man said next.

"Thank you for answering," the man said. "My name is Wen Chen and I'm the leader of construction for the People's Republic Space Station."

Being chosen to lead construction of the Chinese space station was an honor that would make Wen Chen's family proud for generations to come. But with such honor came greater responsibility than the aerospace engineer ever imagined. The pressure to overtake progress of the Americans forced Chen to make decisions he knew were likely to haunt him for the rest of his life.

"The most important part of being leader of this project is to beat the Americans," the Chinese President had told Chen days before he lifted off. "Completion of our station takes precedence over everything, including the well-being of your men and the safety of even yourself. I have granted the request for your twin brother, Ming, to be placed at your side in space. But I would expect you to place the welfare of the space station above even Ming's life. Do I have your assurance that you can do the job how I want?"

Wen had thought President Sun-Li a bit overly dramatic, even morbid, with this speech. But Wen had come too far to do anything else but agree with the President.

"Of course," Chen said. "I will make you and the People's Republic proud."

At that moment, Wen would have promised Sun-Li his first born son if the President asked. Besides, with Ming serving as his second-in-command, Wen knew a difficult decision would never need to be made in regards to his brother. Since they'd be in such a close proximity at all times, what would happen to Ming would happen to them both.

But as Wen learned once space construction began, carefully calculated plans had a tendency to change quickly. After another accident took the lives of two more workers, Ming had to step in and join one of the construction teams. The move was supposed to be on a temporary basis but a lack of replacement workers from Earth prolonged Ming's services in construction. And now, following yet another accident in space, Wen was faced with the unenviable task of whether he should adhere to President Sun-Li's demands of how a true leader should act.

"This frequency is private," a voice responded over the radio. The man who spoke sounded Russian but Wen did not even consider the troubles between their respective countries. Russian President Metachenko himself could have answered and Wen would have been grateful.

"Please, do not go," Wen said. "Some of my men are in trouble and we need help to rescue them."

"Why should we believe you?" the Russian asked.

"Please, I would not have radioed you if this was not an urgent matter," Wen pleaded, suddenly worried the Russian would break the line of communication. "There was an explosion aboard one of our vessels and many of my men are stranded. There has been a major oxygen leak and the men only have two hours of breathable air left. We are currently between crew changes and have no other vessels in space to launch a rescue mission."

"Then I guess you should be planning better," Slava said into the radio.