Naomi opened her mouth in denial, but snapped it shut. She had plenty of friendly acquaintances on Earth—people she’d see for coffee, or to catch a film and grab dinner. Co-workers, usually. It’d been years since she’d allowed herself a close friend. Who had she turned to when things were difficult? After the NASA rejection, and then the acceptance. When she planned on the abortion. When she needed comforting after the miscarriage. It had always been Valerie, and often only Valerie.

Hart’s voice was soft. “Valerie was never as sure with me, I don’t think. She respected my work, my abilities, but I always had the sense that she would have rather chosen someone else to be the flight surgeon if I wasn’t a package deal with Jerrie. I’m not diffident enough.” She raised her hands, then let them fall. “I’m not saying you all are, just…”

“I am, I think. Or I was.” So many little things Naomi never stopped to think about. The way Valerie would fire people at Hawthorne if she didn’t find them respectful enough. She’d distanced herself from her own son when Evan hadn’t moulded his life the way she wanted. Naomi had long learned to stay silent, keep her head down, focus on the work. One of Naomi’s most painful memories was that rift that opened between her and Valerie when she moved to Scotland. Before then, and once she’d come back to Hawthorne, she’d been desperate to prove she was worthy of the attention Valerie had given her over the years. The money Valerie spent on her education when her parents’ inheritance ran out.

Had she been loyal to a fault?

Her entire understanding of who she was, the life she thought she had, was shifting to something she didn’t like the look of.

“So we speak to Hixon and Lebedeva first,” Naomi said. “Lay it all out, then go to Valerie.”

“Agreed.” Hart leaned over to Naomi’s tablet, brought up the ship feed. “Valerie’s in her office. Hixon and Lebedeva are down in the bridge. Should we go to them now?”

Naomi nodded. “Yes, I’ll just wrap this up and be right behind you.”

Hart let out a long exhale. “Right.” She looked like she was trying to psych herself for whatever was to come. Naomi didn’t blame her one bit.

When the lab door closed behind Hart, Naomi grabbed her tablet. Typing as quickly as her shaking fingers would allow, she sent Evan an update of what she’d learned over the past few hours, hoping for a response sooner rather than later. After her long message, she dashed out a short one before she made her way down to the bridge.

Naomi Lovelace: I think I might have been wrong about her for all these years.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

127 Days After Launch

4 Days to Mars

122 Days to Cavendish