veil of the unknown

Chapter 4: The First Test

The following week felt agonizingly slow. Every day that passed seemed to stretch on, each one filled with a gnawing sense of uncertainty. Soren couldn't help but replay the assessment in his mind, wondering if he had done enough. Small doubts festered in quiet moments—had he been fast enough on the endurance tests? Had he answered the psychological questions in the way they wanted? He went over every detail, but the answers felt slippery, evasive.

By the time the results were due, he was a nervous wreck. That morning, he sat by the kitchen table, his foot tapping restlessly as he stared at his tablet, waiting for any sign of a notification. His mother noticed his restlessness, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder as she prepared breakfast.

"They'd be lucky to have you, you know," she said, her voice warm and calming. "Whatever happens, you should be proud of yourself. It takes courage just to try."

Soren managed a small smile, though her words didn't do much to ease the nerves twisting in his stomach. All he could think about was what would happen if he didn't get in. The thought of returning to his normal, aimless routine felt unbearable. He wanted this opportunity more than he'd allowed himself to admit.

And then, just as he was about to give up hope, a notification pinged on his tablet. He nearly knocked over his coffee cup in his rush to open it, his heart racing as he read the message.

"Congratulations, Soren. You have been accepted to participate in the initial training phase of Luxembourg's Space Colonization Program. Report to the training facility next week to begin your journey."

For a moment, he just stared at the words, not quite believing them. He had been chosen. Out of all the candidates, he was one of the few who had made it through. He felt a surge of disbelief, followed quickly by an overwhelming wave of excitement and relief.

His father, noticing his expression, grinned and clapped him on the back. "See? I knew you had it in you, Soren. This is just the beginning."

Soren laughed, feeling the tension drain from his body. He couldn't believe it—he was going to be part of the program, part of something bigger than he'd ever imagined.

The day he reported to the training facility felt surreal. The complex was enormous, filled with state-of-the-art equipment and bustling with young people from all over Luxembourg, each of them handpicked for the same purpose. Soren felt a strange mix of pride and apprehension as he looked around, taking in the faces of the other candidates. They all looked serious, determined, like they knew exactly why they were here. He wondered if they felt the same doubts he did, if they too questioned whether they belonged.

Their first day began with an orientation, where an instructor briefed them on what to expect. The training, he explained, would be rigorous and demanding. They would be tested on their endurance, resilience, problem-solving skills, and adaptability. Every exercise, every task, was designed to push them to their limits, preparing them for the harsh conditions they might face on Kepler-186f.

"The challenges ahead will not be easy," the instructor said, his voice calm but stern. "Kepler-186f is not like Earth. It has stronger gravity, harsher weather, and unknown risks. Only the best of you will make it through this program. But for those who do... you will be pioneers."

Soren felt a shiver run down his spine. The words were inspiring, but they also filled him with a renewed sense of fear. He knew the risks were real, but hearing them spelled out like this made them feel even more daunting. He glanced around at the other candidates, wondering how many of them would make it, and if he would be one of the few who did.

After the orientation, they were split into smaller groups and led to the training grounds. Their first task was a series of physical assessments to gauge their current fitness levels. Soren joined his group, feeling a mixture of anticipation and dread as he eyed the equipment before them—obstacle courses, weighted machines, and endurance stations that looked like they belonged in a military base.

The Instructor barked out orders, and they began. Soren threw himself into each exercise, his muscles straining as he climbed, ran, and lifted. The pace was relentless, each station demanding more than the last. His legs burned, his arms felt like lead, but he pushed through, refusing to let himself fall behind.

Halfway through, he stumbled over a hurdle, his foot catching on the edge and sending him sprawling to the ground. Pain shot through his knee, and he bit back a curse, scrambling to his feet as quickly as he could. One of his teammates glanced over, a brief flicker of concern crossing her face, but he waved her off, determined to keep going.

By the time they finished, he was drenched in sweat, his body aching from head to toe. He felt exhausted, like he had nothing left to give. Yet, as he looked around at the other candidates, he saw the same weariness reflected in their faces, the same exhaustion. Somehow, that knowledge comforted him. He wasn't alone in this struggle—they were all in it together.

That night, as he lay in his bunk, his mind kept replaying the day's events. He couldn't shake the feeling of inadequacy, the sense that he hadn't done enough. He thought about the stumble, the way his knee had throbbed as he forced himself to keep going. What if the others had noticed? What if the instructors thought he was weak?

The doubts gnawed at him, each one growing louder in the quiet darkness. But then he remembered his father's words—that they weren't looking for perfection, but for resilience. Maybe stumbling didn't matter as much as he thought. Maybe what mattered was that he'd kept going.

He took a deep breath, letting the tension drain from his body. He hadn't been perfect, but he'd given it everything he had. And that, he realized, would have to be enough.

The following days were just as grueling, each one a test of endurance, skill, and mental strength. The instructors pushed them harder with every exercise, their expectations unrelenting. Soren found himself growing stronger, his body adapting to the relentless pace, his confidence slowly building. He wasn't the best, but he was improving, and that small progress felt like a victory.

Yet, with each passing day, he noticed the other candidates around him, their determination, their focus. Some were faster, some stronger, and he couldn't help but compare himself, wondering if he would ever measure up. But he reminded himself of why he was here—not to be the best, but to push his own limits, to prove to himself that he could be part of something greater.

On the third day, during an obstacle course, he saw a teammate falter, struggling to climb over a wall. Without thinking, he moved to help her, boosting her up with a quick, encouraging smile. She looked at him, surprised, but grateful, and he felt a quiet satisfaction as she made it over the wall. In that moment, he realized that this wasn't just about individual strength—it was about working together, about building each other up.

That evening, he wrote a quick message to his father, describing the challenges he'd faced, the small victories and the struggles. His father replied with a simple message: "Proud of you, Soren. Keep going. You're stronger than you think."

The words stayed with him, a reminder that he wasn't in this alone. He had his family, his friends, and now, a new team to rely on. The doubts were still there, whispering in the back of his mind, but they felt quieter, overshadowed by a growing sense of determination.

He lay in bed that night, exhaustion pulling at him, but for the first time, he felt a flicker of something else—a quiet confidence, a belief that maybe, just maybe, he was meant to be here.

And as sleep claimed him, he knew that whatever the future held, he was ready to face it head-on.