A thread of unease wound through her. Why wouldn’t Valerie tell them what Earth had said? Naomi would previously have stated their mission had always been clear. Naomi sometimes feared that Valerie had already lied to them once—had Valerie found out about Atalanta II and not passed that on to the crew? Naomi could have explained it away, that the distraction would have only caused stress and opened them up to making errors when they needed to focus. Could she say the same again? It was an uncomfortable pattern.

More minutes of delay. His next message told her it was up to her if she wanted to read them and gave her instructions on how to access the subfolder.

Evan Kan: If there’s one thing we both know about my mother, it’s that she never leaves anything to chance. There is always a contingency. If she’s read them and not told you, they are saying something she doesn’t want you to know. You know this as well as I do, but it’s up to you what you do next. Send me a goodbye before you go to the warp ring.

Then he was gone.

She swallowed several times in quick succession, as if that would ease the tight knot of guilt.

It was late on Earth—nearly two in the morning. Naomi should have been in bed ages ago. She went back to her room, the amber lights leading the way, her tablet held tight in her hand.

As she brushed her teeth, she thought about the day NASA had told Valerie they were firing Hawthorne from Project Atalanta, a year before launch. Valerie had stood perfectly still in the centre of the lab as people tiptoed around her, packing their things. Everyone had that same blank expression. As if a bomb had just been detonated and their ears were ringing as they waited for shrapnel to fall.

Naomi spat into the sink, rinsing her mouth out with water that had been recycled through the systems—and their bodies—countless times since they’d taken off. The potable water had once been their urine, sweat, even water in their breath. It was all distilled and cleaner than water back on Earth, but it was carefully rationed. God, she wanted a shower. They always helped her think, the warmth chasing away the stress of the day. She was tired of sponge baths.

Naomi had only seen Valerie that furious a handful of times in her life. She’d known, with certainty, that Valerie would make NASA pay.

She sat at the little desk by her bed, too agitated to sleep. She unwrapped one of her extra nutriblocks, forcing herself to chew the gummy stuff.