Chapter 3: Trial by Isolation
July 2, 2028 – Artemis Program Training Facility, Nevada Sector
The heat shimmered off the red dust like waves on water as the simulation dome sealed with a hiss. Inside, the world shifted. Gravity adjusted, pressure recalibrated, and the outside faded to silence.
This was no ordinary test.
This was Mars—or as close as Earth could mimic it.
The mission clock above the dome door blinked to life: Simulation Start – 72:00:00
Amara watched the numbers tick down as a low hum filled the dome. The air, slightly thinner than normal, bit colder too, pressed against her skin through the compression suit. They’d been briefed: survive 72 hours in low-gravity with rations, unstable power, and no outside contact. Solve whatever problem arises. And something would arise. That was the point.
But this was only the beginning.
From July to November, the cadets endured five relentless months of training. The Phase Two trials were brutal, but they forged something stronger than skill: unshakable loyalty.
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July 2028 – Isolation & Environmental Survival
The dome tests were just the start. For two weeks, the cadets were rotated through isolated biomes—simulated Martian storms, temperature drops, habitat malfunctions. Talia once spent 16 hours alone in a zero-light, -40°C chamber repairing a pressure valve with frozen fingers. Devon watched her silently when she came out, wrapped her in a heat blanket without a word.
Kai cracked jokes to distract them, even during the worst oxygen blackout in the habitat sim. "If I die in here, someone bury me under a Martian cherry blossom."
"There are no cherry blossoms on Mars," Arjun replied dryly, mid-code.
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"Exactly. It’ll be a memorial like no other."
They laughed even when scared. That became their weapon.
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August 2028 – Combat & Crisis Response
By August, the Nevada sun became an adversary of its own. Temperatures soared, and the cadets were pushed to their physical limits through daily endurance runs, weighted suit drills, and simulated low-gravity obstacle courses.
Combat training wasn’t about heroics—it was about survival. They trained in full Martian gear, learning how to maneuver, fight, and defend in reduced gravity conditions. Grappling, situational takedowns, endurance sparring—every move had to conserve oxygen and minimize injury.
Amara excelled at controlled strikes—sharp, efficient, calculated.
Kai relied on agility, flipping over barriers and dodging like a ghost.
Devon was brute force wrapped in precision.
Talia, underestimated at first, proved vicious with her ground game—her swimmer’s core and flexibility giving her an edge.
And Arjun? He hated it. “I'd rather wrestle equations,” he muttered after every session, but even he could land a solid elbow when it counted.
“You’re not training to win fights,” their instructor barked. “You’re training to survive until the mission ends. Or until someone carries you home.”
They bruised together. They limped together. And in the evenings, they helped tape each other’s ribs, passed protein packs like cigarettes, and swapped stories from their old lives.
That month, Talia called Kai her “dumb little brother” for the first time after he split his lip trying to show off a spinning kick.
He grinned, bloodied. “Guess that makes you the bossy older sister.”
It stuck.
From then on, they fought like family—but never against each other.
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September 2028 – Psychological Stress & Group Cohesion
The worst trial came in September: The Fracture Simulation.
They were fed false data—Amara had been “injured.” Supplies were “contaminated.” A rescue drone “failed to land.” They were told one of them would need to be left behind for mission success.
The arguments were real. Talia wept. Arjun yelled. Devon looked like he'd kill the instructor through the wall.
Only after 18 hours of rising tension did the lights return and the speaker crackle:
“Simulation complete. Debrief in one hour.”
None of them spoke on the walk back. But later, sitting around a campfire outside the barracks, Amara broke the silence.
“I would’ve volunteered. For the record.”
“We know,” Devon said, staring into the flames.
“But we wouldn’t have let you,” Kai added, voice steady.
Talia nodded fiercely. “We go together. Or not at all.”
Arjun passed around a flask. “To Squad Epsilon. Idiots, but loyal ones.”
They drank to that.
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October–December 2028 – Systems Mastery & Final Simulations
By the time the leaves turned in the Nevada mountains, their bond was something more than friendship. More than training. It was blood-deep.
They slept in shifts during orbital docking drills. Devon once carried an unconscious Kai through a smoke-filled habitat mockup. Arjun reprogrammed an airlock override while upside down, using only one hand. Talia learned how to restart a power core with nothing but a heat coil and instinct. Amara stopped referring to them as "the crew" and started calling them "family."
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January 1, 2029 – T-Minus 2 Months
Launch Day was now circled in red on every board, every calendar: March 1, 2029.
Colonel Harding stood before them one icy morning, wind cutting across the training yard.
“You are as close to ready as any humans have ever been,” he said. “From this point on, you are not just trainees. You are ambassadors of Earth. You carry the dreams of eight billion people.”
He paused, cybernetic leg locking with a click.
“And I’d trust you with my life. Because you’ve proven you’d trust each other with yours.”
The cadets stood shoulder to shoulder, wind in their faces, eyes locked on the faint shape of Horizon One rising behind the hangar doors.
They weren’t five strangers anymore. They were Epsilon.
They were a family.
