People on the ground had argued about the best way to transport a tiny baby to the surface—not something any of them had expected to have to consider for decades yet. Water could help cushion against G-force. NASA engineers had at one point considered submerging her entirely in a tank of water, a mini scuba baby. Naomi had been grateful when they vetoed that plan and instead rigged a pressurised pod cushioned with water beds—an evolution of the original chambers they’d sent chimpanzees up in during the 1960s.

They put Grace into the capsule, and she mewled in protest. Naomi hated the click as the door of it shut. They strapped themselves in and Hixon prepped the undocking procedures. The robotic voice started the countdown. Most systems were still automated, but this time they were in full contact with NASA. There were additional steps to go through.

When they finally disengaged, Naomi and the others watched the Atalanta grow smaller on the screens. Its no longer new and pristine white hull was peppered with small scratches and dings from space debris. That craft had taken them to another planet, and almost another solar system. Even though they had not gone through a wormhole, it had undone them and put them all back together again.

The shuttle’s engine brought them to their expected path. They planned to land in the ocean not far from Cape Canaveral and the Kennedy Space Center. It decelerated, preparing to re-enter the atmosphere. Naomi could hear Grace crying through the mic. Naomi patted the outside of the capsule, singing a nonsense song at her daughter, as much to calm herself as the baby.

The descent module separated from the shuttle, thermal protection protecting against the heat friction as they raced towards the ground.

Grace started screaming. They were all pushed into their seats by the force of five times their weight. Naomi’s hands flexed, wishing she could offer comfort.

At the right moment, the parachutes deployed, slowing their descent. The rockets fired before touch down and landing boosters ensured they hit the water at no more than five kilometres per hour.

They hit just where they expected. The boats already on site out in the harbour sped towards them as the capsule bobbed in the water. Naomi’s stomach lurched. She’d turned down the volume on Grace’s screams, but it still grated against her eardrums.

“I know,” she said. “It was not fun.”

The hatch popped, and Naomi looked up through her helmet to see a patch of blue sky—sky!—just before it was darkened by the silhouette of someone from the rescue team. They’d pulled the boat close and secured it to the craft.

Naomi and Hart opened the capsule and Naomi pressed her child against her chest.

“Her life signals seem good,” Hart said, eyeing the readouts from the baby’s monitors. “They’ll double-check her blood pressure when we’re out.”