It was one of my father’s gardens. A large, round chamber on the side of Level 7, with windows facing outward like a great eye, it had once been home to cascades of ivy, flowering vines in living braids, delicate epiphytes embracing sturdier branches, and shadowy alcoves of trellises shaded by broad leaves. Small benches looked out toward the stars, tucked away in what should have been a riot of greenery and color, misty air and endless twilight, a place for quiet and contemplation.

My father had liked to come here after supper, when the ship was settling into its evening routine. If my mother was still working—and she was, most nights—I would accompany him. He taught me about pruning the vines to encourage healthier blossoms, clipping away the old to make room for the new, gently guiding the plants into a living work of art. I had never been as interested as he wanted. The stars beyond the windows always drew my attention.

Now, like everything else, the garden was dead. The vines were dull and crisp, the leaves crumpled by an unending winter. Even in the cold I could smell a faint decay.

I felt an unexpected rush of anger, remembering the warmth of my father’s hand on mine, the cool metal of the clippers in my grip, the clean snap of a stem cut through, and how beautiful this chamber had been, how joyful my father’s manner when he tended it. There were scientists aboard the ship who called him a gardener in a mocking tone, but he always laughed as though they meant to compliment him. He believed there was no shame in being a gardener in space, where every living thing had to be protected and cherished. There was no shame in teaching life to flourish where before there was only darkness.

Ariana pushed herself through the doorway and drifted slowly toward the center window. She lifted both hands to stop herself. Halos of condensation surrounded her fingers like ghostly gloves. Silent, still, unaware of me so close behind her, she stared at Earth. From this distance it was small enough to hide behind an outstretched hand.