How did it feel, to know that Naomi and his mother had gone and stolen something far bigger than he ever could?

It took ages to send the information back and forth. While she waited for his responses, Naomi had scrolled through the existing information on the remote drive. Once she found the fix, she could stamp out the virus and continue with her crop experiments. Perhaps she was overthinking it, and there was a simpler way to fix the cyanophage. After all, even with cases as virulent as Seventh Disease, there were always a few children who were naturally immune and unaffected.

The astronaut mantra snaked its sneaky way through her head: expect the best but prepare for the worst.

Naomi rose and stretched, heading to the canteen for a cup of coffee before heading back to the comms centre. Black and bitter. She’d be sad when it ran out. They’d have to start adding caffeine pills to mint tea or something, but it wouldn’t be the same. She’d try to grow coffee on Cavendish.

When she returned, another message from Evan waited for her.

Earth: How is it up there? Never sure if V is telling me everything. I mean, why start now?

Naomi paused, her fingers hovering over the keypad. So much on this ship was automated. Records of how long everyone spent in each room, their locations easily drawn up on a map. Useful if anyone wanted to know where one of the other crew members were. Not as useful if you wanted privacy. The logs would be automatically saved—any of the others would be able to access this if they desired. Naomi was almost certain Valerie had read her childhood diaries, especially during her silent years.

Atalanta: They’re all settling in. It’ll be easier once we know the algae levels are stable.

She hesitated, then sent another message.

Atalanta: What’re the updates on Earth? V just gives us the highlights, including that one article that said the U.S. was offering us up as guinea pigs and didn’t expect us to survive. That was a cheery one.

She sipped her coffee as she waited for Evan’s reply. Valerie would be annoyed with Naomi asking Evan for news—that was beyond her remit. But her curiosity was high enough she thought it worth the risk.

Evan’s response took longer than usual. He was choosing his words just as carefully.

Earth: Officials are livid. Politicians have condemned you. The usual. Has she told you that they’re starting construction on another ship? Just announced: the Atalanta II. They won’t be able to launch for two years at the absolute soonest, but they’ll be following you.

They weren’t even creative enough to give it a new name. The coffee made her jittery. She perched on the chair, one leg drawn up to her chest, resting her chin on her knee.