Naomi was never sure if Valerie told them everything or filtered out the worst bits. The U.S. had tried to deny any responsibility, but the rest of the world wasn’t looking too kindly on them. Under the Outer Space Treaty and subsequent amendments to it, NASA and Lockwood were responsible for the Atalanta by law even before they put it into orbit. The PR machine was in full spin; the women on board had made America look incompetent. Spaceship thieves, body snatchers. Scandalous enough to bolster sinking news-site hits.

“That’s because they were inept!” Valerie had said, before snorting at an article. Conspiracy theories abounded. That the Atalanta was a distraction, so people would look up at the night sky rather than notice disappearing public money. Naomi had to admit, that one might hold water. Another theory she was less fond of, one that postulated that the U.S. had “allowed” the women to go because they didn’t think it was actually safe enough yet for men. Writing the five of them off as bodies to be offered up on the altar of science.

“Horseshit,” Valerie had added for good measure. “Then why did they put five men in the backup crew?”

Yet the article had reminded Naomi of something one of the Mercury 7 said in a press conference, when asked back in the sixties if there was room in the astronaut program for women. He’d cheesed it up and said they could have used a woman on the second orbital Mercury Atlas they had flown in 1961. In case they didn’t get the joke, he went on to explain: “We could have put a woman up, the same type of woman, and flown her instead of the chimpanzee.” The reporters had laughed.

“We’ll send them a postcard from Cavendish,” Hixon had drawled, but her eyes had flashed. Hart had taken her wife’s hand, and Naomi had felt a pang at their intertwined fingers. Not jealousy, not quite, but a yearning for something as simple as touch, or falling asleep next to someone and letting the cadence of their breath lull her to sleep. She knew little of their relationship, other than Hart and Hixon had met in astronaut training—the last group to have gender parity in their ranks. They both applied to be on the Ares mission. When Hixon had gotten it and left Hart behind, it’d nearly been the end of them. Was it strange for Hart, to have Hixon outrank her as second in command?

Hixon rarely mentioned the Mars mission. If she did, it was only the relevant information to whatever task at hand they needed aboard the Atalanta. She never mentioned Cole, and Naomi never asked.

“There have been some protests and marches in support of us,” Valerie had said, for a spot of good news. “They call us the Atalanta Five.”