Evan had kept off to the side, watching everyone chatting around the fire. It was early in her freshman year, and Naomi hadn’t made much effort to get to know anyone. Evan, weirdly, was the most comforting option. At least he was familiar.

She had gone up to him and passed him a singed burger and held out her hand for his water bottle. He’d passed it to her, wordlessly. She’d sat next to him and unscrewed the metal cap, taking a swig.

“This is shit vodka,” she’d said, as she fought not to sputter.

“Yep,” he had agreed.

It’d been the first time they’d properly spent time together without Valerie’s imposing presence over them. To her surprise, they hadn’t devolved into their usual bickering. They’d snarked about professors, kept the conversation light, but something between them eased that night. She’d still found him a bit of an asshole. But he’d been an interesting asshole.

Naomi “walked” along the beach for a few minutes. The rock bridge was topped with the dark dots of birds, and the blue of the sky turned haze-orange at the horizon. The sound of waves and bird cries was convincing, but the white foam of the waves always stopped just before they reached her still shoed feet. No sand, no smell of salt or brine. Nothing but an echo of an echo.

She turned it off in disgust and went back to thinking about the power of a few resistant individuals.

CHAPTER EIGHT

8 Years Before Launch

Bay Area, California

When Naomi told Valerie she’d gotten the crushing voicemail, Valerie wouldn’t let her mope.

“I’ll be in northern California tomorrow,” she’d announced when Naomi answered her cell phone. “Come to the Hawthorne airfield at noon.” She’d hung up without saying goodbye.

Naomi had groaned and fallen back into the pillows. The next morning, she’d dutifully showered, brushed her teeth, and changed into actual clothes. She’d prided herself on her resilience, and she’d had her fair share of rejections. But this one? This one had hit deep.

She hadn’t cried when she listened to the message. She’d sat in the dark of her apartment and realised that for the first time in years, she didn’t have a plan. Everything she’d done up until this point had been with the hope of getting into NASA and it’d all unspooled in her hands.

When she’d gone to the interview in Houston, Naomi had been confident she was a reasonably clever person. Then she’d been thrown into a room with dozens of people just as smart, if not smarter, and discovered she wasn’t that exceptional. Everyone else was equally determined.