Hart pressed a button on the controls, and the fireworks began—bright carnations of red, green, blue and white flickering out, leaving a ghostly imprint behind. They were mercifully quiet. Naomi had loved the fireworks displays as a child but hated the noise—she’d always stuck her fingers in her ears, which did little to block out the gunshot booms. She’d turn from the fireworks and read the lips of the adults. She’d taught herself how, watching people speak about her when they assumed she couldn’t hear.

Naomi carefully layered a bite of steak, potato and salad on the tines of her fork. She tasted it, chewing slowly. Was it the best meal she’d ever tasted? No. Was it satisfying and palatable? Yes. The rec room filled with that reverent silence as the women ate and watched the silent fireworks.

Hixon had a smear of blue ink on her cheek, like another freckle. She liked to calculate longhand on a sheet from their precious store of paper using a particular pen—said it helped her think better. Hart noticed and leaned over, wiping the spot away. Hixon made a face but put up with it.

Lebedeva watched the fireworks with a half-smirk. “It is strange, to celebrate patriotism to a country that wants us behind bars for what we did.”

They all took this in.

“Did you ever feel patriotic towards Russia?” Hixon asked.

Lebedeva’s gaze went distant. Naomi thought she wouldn’t answer. “Once I did,” she said. “This is new for you—your country thinking of you as a traitor. Give it time. It gets easier.” She poured herself a glass of mint tea, clearly wishing it was something stronger.

Of the four other women on board, the Russian was the one Naomi knew the least about after more than sixty days in space. Lebedeva had struck up a friendship with Hixon, but kept the rest of them at arm’s length, preferring the company of machines. Naomi knew Lebedeva had spent time on the ISS, and not long after she’d returned, she’d left Roscosmos and Russia before landing at Hawthorne. Naomi had begun to suspect Lebedeva had been kicked out and forced to flee. She’d left behind a husband, but there seemed to be no love lost there. Valerie had ended up sponsoring Lebedeva’s work visa and scooped her up for Project Atalanta.

Dessert was berries, a sweet potato, and a scoop of peanut and hazelnut butter from their stores. Naomi really, really missed chocolate.

She picked up one of the raspberries with her fingertips, biting down on the sweet tartness, grinding the seeds between her molars.