That had given them all a thrill. They all knew of the Mercury 13. In the mid-twentieth century, at the same time as the Mercury 7 had all the fame for being space flight pioneers, thirteen women had tested just as well if not better than the men on the aptitude tests. But they’d never reached space, even after bringing their case all the way to a congressional hearing. Eleven were still alive when Sally Ride was the first American woman in space in 1983. When Eileen Collins was the first woman to pilot the space shuttle in 1995, seven of them attended the launch, and ten attended her first command mission in 1999. Women had clawed their way into NASA only to be edged back out by the governmental policies that saw women as threats.

As Naomi wrapped up the nutriblocks—they had the unfortunate side effect of collecting any speck of dust in a five-foot radius—Valerie watched her work, leaning against the only spot of wall bare of bioreactors. Naomi could feel her stare as she watered the crops, which were thankfully doing all right. The Cavendish crops were peakier than the Earth ones, which was something to worry about once the problem of the algae was solved.

“Do you know what’s wrong with our pond scum?” Valerie asked.

“Yep.” Naomi grimaced. “It’s a cyanophage.”

“A virus?” Valerie asked, intrigued.

“Take a look.” Naomi gestured to the microscope on the lab table. Valerie pushed her back, peering through the eyepiece.

“It’s subtle, but it’s there. It shouldn’t have gotten past the checks.” Teeny little cyanophages, with icosahedral heads and a little tail that had landed on the cell surface and pumped their DNA into the cell.

“I think we can probably bioengineer a fix. There’s a good amount of stuff on cyanophages here on the drive, but not as much about genetically engineering algal resistance to this one specifically, and I need to double-check some data.” She took a breath. “I also need to talk to Evan directly. His work in immunology means he might be able to help as well.”

Valerie’s eyebrows rose. “Volunteering to speak to Evan? Has hell frozen over? God, you used to be at each other’s throats every goddamn holiday.”

Naomi rolled her eyes. “We weren’t that bad.”

Valerie scoffed. “Sure. Came a time I thought one of you would end up killing the other one. Though I guess you ended up playing nice enough in college before you decided you hated each other again. Then I gave up.”

“I see you trying to pry and I’m not falling for it, Dr. Black,” Naomi said. “I’ll send him some questions tonight, if that’s all right.”

Valerie’s soft laugh was just shy of mocking. “Sure. After dinner. Ask him for anything you think might be useful. We’ll only be able to talk to him until Mars, after all.”