"The public's still satisfied," Smith was saying as Led walked in. "I don't think anyone wants to say it out loud, but our mission's gone haywire. We've tried to predict everything about the comet, but - it seems there's no way. I just - am not sure whether we'll even be able to save it. I'm helpless."

The laboratory lights flickered.

"Miss Winner, here, has helped us with atomic chemistry," Mills said. "And, dare I say, has done a great job of it. But we're still working, and still failing, by the looks of it."

"So there isn't anything we could do? Not even the Lassal method?" Miss Chaisson inquired, worriedly. It seemed like she had asked the same question a thousand times before.

"The Lassal involves some analytical confinement of energy in an isolated space, but the problem is that it requires very high temperatures to yield a result... It won't work," Meddles said laconically, absent-mindedly sipping his coffee as if no issue was unsolved; as if the world wasn't ending. Led took his face in his hands.

Nothing was working. Their joint efforts, over the span of 8 days, weren't making a difference. The only way that remained for them was to descend into the Atlantic Ocean, find a concentrated energy area (where the magnetic field was the strongest), and hope for an Einstein-Rosen bridge (a.k.a a wormhole) to magically appear during the actual supernova-Earth collision. But that was such a pseudo-scientific chance. It would be good for philosophic articles, but, alas, not for practical matters. The mission seemed like an absolute fail if they resorted to the descending step.

They got correspondence letters from other research teams. Yet the scientists there, too, either sent texts of apology or far-fetched plans deemed too unrealistic by Miss Chaisson. Their newsletter could go well as a vault of inspiration for any writers of science fiction. But only if their fiction creation took up 3 quarters of a month.

"University of Columbia, Massachusetts, UPenn,... Everybody agrees with our proposition," Meddles said. "As unbelievable as this plan seems, we have to try it. The problem is: who'll get to be onboard?"

"I guess Led has to be there, as the maker of the theory and the hype of the crowd," Smith thought out loud, "but it's up to him to decide. We can't simply force one to make one's own decisions."All looked at him, sympathetically. Led's eyes were only on the many chemistry vessels on the lab table, as he had already he was going in.

"There's still some time left. Would you like to make your decision later?" Smith inquired, slightly smiling.

"Yes," Led said, surprising himself. But he admired Smith for his gentleness.

"Then let's decide who else wants to go. God, it sounds strange to say "who wants", since nobody really wants to go there. Anyone, anywho?" Meddles asked. No one at first answered, but then Mills decided to speak up.

"Maybe, me, with Miss Chaisson's approval. Since I am in normal medical condition, perhaps I should go as part of the team?" he said. Meddles smiled at his offer.

"What does Miss Dianne think?" he inquired. Since Meddles was, if not older, as old as Miss Chaisson, it was logical for him to be calling her by her first name.

The PI rep took a second to reply.

"Yes, of course," she agreed, months of exhaustion showing in her faint tone. It appeared that the months from a previous challenge had also taken a toll on her. "If Mr Mills wishes to participate in the Atlantic mission, then, sure, he will."

Nobody in the group decided to point out her exhaustion. For now.

"I can go too," Arlene stated, the entirety of her body language showing an eagerness to join.

"The CS host picked me out for particularly this mission, I suppose."

The CS stood for the Crevice Society. Donatelli's side fling organization from the Crevice Awards. Irritation crossed his mind. Led was sick of hearing this man's name in the most nontrivial matters.

"So you'll be tracking magnetism levels, keeping count of the energy index and helping to magnify the thermal energy, if the mission goes successful. Yes, you'll be going underwater," Miss Chaisson confirmed. Something was bothering Led. "If you'll be going, then that leaves two people definitely onboard and one in consideration. I could've tried to make you, tried to," she took a breath. "- but no one wants to go through such events. So let's leave it at that."

"But a minimum of 20 people is needed to operate a submarine, is it?" Meddles intervened. "We have 10 people on the set, 2 officers, 5 from Columbia, and two from our side. If Led decides to agree, we need two more else."

The lab fell silent with thought. The unparticipating part of the team was probably trying to think of an excuse, or a reason to stay away. They all had families and mothers. It was stressful, after all. The ones left were Led, Smith and Meddles. Miss Chaisson was out of the question, since she was too elderly to risk her health to such an extent, and Led was still deciding. Smith might have a family to take care of, and Meddles was not so young a guy.Who else?

"I can go," Smith spoke up. Miss Chaisson had a relieved look in her eyes. "I have a family of three sons, but I can go too. If it's saving the world for them I am willing to take some of these risks."

"Mr Smith, I applaud you for your bravery," Miss Chaisson said. There was rare gratitude in her voice, the one which sounded so deep with an underlying sense of respect to it. "We will still give you time for reconsideration, of course. We will put it in our best interests to help you care for your children as soon as possible."

For a moment, she had almost smiled.

"You don't have to worry, I am sure you have many concerns on your mind," Smith said. Perhaps he was feeling relieved that the mission was finally going somewhere.

Miss Chaisson didn't have the time to reply, since another preposition came her way.

"May I be also of use to the mission?" Meddles asked. Even Led amazedly looked at him. Nobody had expected that, since Meddles was in and out of the hospital a couple of years ago. He had an unfortunate fall that had cost him an unpleasant concussion.

"Well, if you - indeed want, we must have everyone take a medical test," Miss Chaisson quietly said, the immense surprise still not wearing off from her face. And voice. "Everyone should take a medical test, if they would like to join in the mission."

"All five then," Meddles smiled. Smith grinned. But Led - Led had passed the chance. The whole team had agreed. Was there place in it for him now?

"Then the meeting's over," Miss Chaisson concluded. Now she didn't convey even an inch of desperation that had previously dominated her voice. "Led, if you wish to join, please message me, or the PI. The latter won't answer quickly, I suppose, but just say your name and I hope they'll accept it. I'll get in touch with the PI. Be sure to take your medical tests in the next couple of days. I know it's hard, but we can do it. Take care," she said. The laboratory emptied.

Perhaps they would take care of themselves as much as they could in the two days left, but after that - it was up to fate. Two days to prepare for the end of the world. And Led had a difficult choice to make.(1261 words)