An actual spaceship. Not a shuttle, not a satellite, not a rocket. Something built to fold space and time to bring humans to another solar system. To the planet that had been hidden from humans’ radar, hidden among the data of Hubble until the James Webb telescope was able to reveal it in more detail.

Naomi thought of her lab in Sutherland. It was good, well stocked. Not as state of the art as her old ones at NASA or Hawthorne. She was involved in two projects: perfecting the hydroponics for the ISS and the Gateway as well as experimenting on crops that could grow on Mars. Not so different from what she had done at NASA.

On the space stations, the European astronauts currently grew forty per cent of their food and she was hoping to bump it to fifty next year. Growing plants was harder in microgravity. There was talk of building a new space station with a gravity ring, if the partnership countries could stop squabbling about the funds. It was a good job. A worthy job.

A job that would leave her tied to a desk, if she were honest with herself. NASA had reluctantly bowed to growing governmental pressure—women had been forced out of active space flight, and they were leaving most management, engineering, and science jobs in droves. The UKSA hadn’t followed suit, but deep down, she’d known for months they’d never let her on one of those rockets she saw every day. For her own safety, so the men in power claimed, as piece by piece they eroded women’s abilities to feel safe.

There were others Valerie could have asked. Maybe even better qualified. No one else will do.

Despite their fight, their silence over the last year, Valerie still wanted her. Naomi went to the window, taking her whisky with her. Valerie let her go, crossing her legs, making a pretence of surveying the sticky, laminated menu.

The clouds were too thick to see the stars, but Naomi let herself imagine being up there, the whole world spread below. She’d wanted a shot at this since she was a child, and even the odd space shuttle blowing up as she watched the live broadcasts hadn’t dissuaded her. She’d tackled botany and astrobotany, mechanical engineering, astrophysics. Learned Russian and a smattering of Chinese. All for a chance of something that each day faded further into grey.

Naomi came back to the table, setting down her empty glass.

“I want to be second in command.”

Valerie’s face split into a grin and she gave a whoop that startled the people in the pub. “I would, you know I would, but that role’s already Hixon’s, I’m afraid. She has the military and the Ares experience.”

Naomi’s shoulders folded.

“But,” Valerie said, sensing Naomi’s disappointment, “you know that you’ll always have my ear. Compromise?”