“Dex, please. I trust Luke.” she pleaded. Dex pushed her back and stepped forward. “Dex! Let me go!” she pleaded. I knew he wouldn’t. Just then, the sky went dark. A star cruiser covered the sun. Hundreds of pods and fighters screamed out the bay doors and raced towards us. The lead fighter rained fire on the field. Guards scattered and Erica raced toward me. Dex was left in the middle of the field yelling for his guards. “Cowards!” he cried out. Just then a modified bomber flew overhead and dropped a T13 firebomb. It flew down towards Dex and for a moment there was silence as it hit the ground. Then the great BOOM and the crackling of synthetic fire followed. The ball of fire expanded and lit the field up. A transport landed and troopers filed out towards the house and the Interceptor. We reached the ship and I fired up the engines. Erica looked out the window as the great house she grew up and lived in slowly burned to the ground. The Interceptor lifted up and blasted out of the atmosphere. After minutes in space, the sun dropped down on Earth and the stars began to shine brighter. I turned to Erica, who was still crying. “Where do you want to go?” I asked. “Where can we go?” She wiped the tears from her eyes and turned to me. “Away,” she whispered. “Far away.” “As you wish.” I turned around and pushed the throttle hard. The Interceptor shook and left the Earth forever. ~ Holden Brew
Mission Red Today is the day. December 15, 2042. The day that NASA will announce the crew of the first Ares mission. The first people to go to Mars. The news will reach the candidates first at 11 am. Only then, an hour later, will it be released to the media. I remind myself of this as I open my eyes to the sunlight shining through the blinds. I drag myself out of bed and slouch into the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee. The clock reads 8:47. Two hours and thirteen minutes left until the email arrives. Two hours and thirteen minutes of worry. I think to myself as I fall onto the couch and switch the TV on. I flip through the channels, but there isn’t anything good to watch. My mind starts to wander, and suddenly, I’m eight again. I’m watching TV at my grandmother’s house when a news update interrupts my Saturday morning cartoons. I’m upset until I hear the words ‘Mars’ and ‘astronaut.’ I turn Bobby Frigon my full attention to the TV just in time to catch the reporter announce that NASA is planning a manned mission to Mars. My mouth drops open in wonder, and my head fills with images of rockets and spacesuits. That was the day I knew I would do whatever it takes to become an astronaut. A subtle beeping shakes me out of my reverie. The coffee is ready. As I pour myself a mug and sit back down on the couch, my nerves come flooding back. Being an astronaut has been my biggest goal for as long as I can remember. When I was a kid, I remember staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling and imagining myself walking on one. But that was before I learned that stars are made up of gas and would be too hot to get near enough to walk on. I remember asking for tickets to space camp when I turned nine, and then every year after. 37
