She’d allowed herself a small extravagance—zinnia seeds. They were small and light, and their life cycle was short. She touched the tiny sprouts with the tip of her finger. Once they bloomed, she’d take a couple to her room and feed them artificial white sunlight, so she’d be able to see the green stems and the orange flowers. Zinnias were one of the first plants grown on the ISS. They’d gone through the warp ring a few years ago and were officially the first interstellar flowers. The tomatoes and berries would bloom too, but it’d take longer.

Tucked within the cupboard of her lab, with backups down in the Crypt, were the seed vaults. Rows of three-ply foil packages, tidy and unassuming. They were backups in case her current crops failed completely, but they were also what they’d need on Cavendish. It was no Svalbard seed vault, that storage facility deep in the Nordic Arctic tundra, but it was still a mini ark of flora.

A tap at the door. Naomi stifled her annoyance at the interruption. Hart stuck her head into the lab.

“Mary, Mary, quite contrary. How does your garden grow?” she sang. On Earth, Hart had always worn mascara and dark red lipstick, her braids tied up into a high bun on the top of her head. With her short hair and bare face, she looked younger, almost vulnerable. But she’d seemed happy, these last few weeks. Space agreed with her.

“No silver bells or cockle shells,” Naomi replied.

The smile stretched into a wide, white grin. “I just spent an hour in the observation room, staring out that window. Don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that view.”

Naomi’s face softened. She’d spent as much time in the observation room as she could get away with for the same reason. Spots of stars. Dark and endless. She’d fallen asleep curled up in the window ledge a few times. Woken up with a start.

“Dinner’s in ten,” Hart added.

“Can’t wait,” Naomi said without enthusiasm. The menu tonight was vat corned beef out of a packet, though they would be able to have a tiny salad of hydroponic lettuce to help freshen it up. Dessert was a strawberry nutriblock.

Naomi was isolating herself. Valerie or Hart would call her out on it soon. Space had been the goal, but she felt as though she moved through mud, her mind never clearing of fog. She kept thinking of Earth, wondering what she’d be doing now, almost as if she was mourning the life she’d elected to leave behind. If anyone else was doing the same, they knew better than to speak of it.