Naomi tilted her head towards the black ceiling of the storage bay. The next time she came down here, the humming of the pods would be quiet. The light would change to the pale white of artificial sunlight if it was the “daylight” hours on board, or the amber lights of “night.”

Naomi had planned to be strong and bottle up the swirl of her emotions. But Valerie had once told her not to be afraid of her rage. So why be afraid of frustration? Of grief?

Valerie’s arms reached wide and Naomi floated into them. They were tethered to each other, suspended, twirling slowly with the momentum of Naomi pushing up to reach her. Naomi had rarely hugged Valerie, growing up. A few memories of stiff, unyielding embraces, especially in public. Down here, there was no one to see. Valerie’s touch was light as she stroked the space between Naomi’s shoulder blades.

“Thank you,” Naomi whispered into Valerie’s shoulder.

Valerie squeezed her tighter, then let her go.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

6 Years Before Launch

Singapore

Naomi shifted from foot to foot on the boat as it neared the sea burial site.

She hadn’t known Evan’s father well—only met him a handful of times. She remembered him as tall, brusque, handsome. His cultured Chinese-Singapore accent had blurred from years spent in America. He’d always smelled of sharp cologne, just that little bit too overpowering.

For all she and Evan were still not speaking, Naomi wanted to support him, and so she’d flown to Singapore for the first time with Valerie in her jet, grateful to leave California behind for a time. Back home, the horizon was constantly hazy from the summer wildfires. Flames licked through the kindling of golden grass, the cypress and oak trees blackened.

The air was cleaner here. She could stay outside without a filter mask for up to two hours. Naomi wore black sunglasses, the lower half of her face exposed. By the end of that summer, wearing masks outdoors would become a legal requirement in California, rather than strongly recommended. A bare face in the Golden State was the equivalent of smoking two packs of cigarettes a day without even the nicotine buzz.

The problem was, it was also unbearably hot. She wore a cooling gel around her neck like the rest of the people on board, but her dress was sweltering. Her tights were borrowed from Valerie—too tall, tight at the hips but bunching at the ankles and knees. Her feet hurt from the heels she rarely wore. The water vapour fans blew chilled air that barely seemed to make a difference.