“Goddammit,” Hixon said, but for all her hand-wringing, she knew as well as the rest of them that this ship was designed for five people. Not ten. Not eight. Five.

“I don’t like this either,” Valerie said. “It was another reason I took out the backup crew in my final version of the schematics of the ship. Even if there hadn’t been a surge, the pods are a drain on fuel efficiency. Yes, it’d be good to know that if something happened to one of us, someone with equivalent skills would be able to take up the reins, and it’d be useful to have a few extra hands once we landed on Cavendish. Cryogenics is hard on the body, though—it’s not without its own risks.”

“No, it’s not,” Hart said. “Sacrificing five lives to save our own. It’s hard to balance with the Hippocratic Oath, I have to admit.”

“If it’s five instead of ten, you’re saving five people,” Lebedeva pointed out.

Hart glanced at Naomi.

Five lives and something that could become a sixth.

Lebedeva continued. “Yes, I do not know these men. Not like you. I do not like this, but they are dead either way. We cannot send them back. We cannot drop them on Mars. They cannot stay here. They are already dead, whether their brains would refire again or not.”

Hixon’s shoulders slumped. She was so used to solving problems, to finding the solution no matter how tricky it was.

Their conversation floated around Naomi, growing more distant. Cole. A man she’d loved. A man she’d hated. A man who, near the end, she’d come to understand, if not forgive.

“It’s like we’re being punished for what we did,” Hixon said.

“Don’t you dare start with fate or God or any of that,” Valerie said. “If you want to blame anyone, blame Lockwood. They’re the ones who fucked up the numbers.”

“This scenario would have happened with the original crew, if the plan had gone ahead,” Lebedeva said. “They would be the ones doing this instead of us, that is all.”

“Do you even care about this? They’re just strangers to you, aren’t they?” Hixon demanded.

“It is unfortunate.”

“Unfortunate—”

“Hixon,” Valerie interrupted. “Stop.”

Hixon’s nostrils flared, but her flame of anger snuffed out. Hart went to her, wrapping an arm around her wife’s side.

Valerie caught each of their gazes. “This is hard. I recognise this. The right decisions can sometimes be the hardest. We’ll do it tomorrow morning. We will give them a funeral. A hero’s send-off.” She stared at Naomi, unblinking. “There is time for you to say your goodbyes.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

72 Days After Launch

54 Days to Mars

177 Days to Cavendish