Epilogue

Epilogue

Jet Propulsion Lab, Pasadena, California

Nine months later

The control room is silent. Unmoving. A sea of people in dark-blue polo shirts and red JPL lanyards who somehow manage to breathe in unison. Until about five minutes ago, the handful of journalists invited to document this historical event were clearing their throats, shuffling their equipment, asking the occasional whispered question. But that, too, has stopped.

Now we all wait. Silent.

“.?.?.expect only intermittent contact at this time. A dropout as the vehicle switches antennas?.?.?.”

I glance at Ian, who sits in the chair next to mine. He hasn’t bothered to turn on his monitor. Instead, he’s been watching the progress of the rover on mine, his frown deep and worried. This morning, when I straightened the collar of his shirt and told him how good he looked in blue, he didn’t reply. Honestly, I don’t think he even heard me. He’s been very, very preoccupied for the past week. Which I happen to find?.?.?. kind of cute.

“Heading directly for the target. The rover is about fifteen meters off the surface, and?.?.?. we’re getting some signals from MRO. The UHF looks good.”

I reach out to brush my fingers against his under the table. It’s meant to be just a fleeting, reassuring touch, but his hand closes around mine, and I decide to stay.

With Ian, I always decide to stay.

“Touchdown confirmed!Serendipity has safely landed on the surface of Mars!”

The room erupts into cheers. Everyone explodes out of their seats, cheering, clapping, laughing, jumping, hugging. And within the delightful, triumphant, radiant chaos of mission control, I turn to Ian, and he turns to me with the widest, most brilliant of smiles.

The following day, our kiss is on the front page of the New York Times.