Knot 27 stood just inside the door, staring at the Earth house. It was made of dark wood. There was a table and chairs, four trundles and a separate bathroom. Houston had called them “aliens.” But to Romy and her knot, everything here was alien. The textures, the materials, the tools. The contraptions were unfamiliar and the scents were strange.

Phobos dropped his bundle of new clothes onto the bed and turned to the knot, arms crossed. “Does anyone else get that feeling that you know less at the end of the day than you did at the start?”

Despite herself, Romy cracked a smile.

Thrym placed his bundle on a bed and sat down in one tired, drawn out movement. “At least we know one thing we didn’t.”

Deimos was alive.

Romy claimed her own bunk, atop Thrym’s. She listened as Elara replied, “Dei will live.”

It was the only good news they’d had since crashing.

Romy still couldn’t believe how much better Deimos had appeared—though he was a shadow of his former self. All variety of tubes were helping to eradicate the pneumothorax he’d sustained in the crash and the ensuing blood poisoning, but they’d been told their friend would live.

That their knot would still be whole. That was all that mattered.

Any consequence that came after, or had happened because of Atlas and Romy’s decision to follow him, was worth it.

She hoped.

* * *

The shower was glorious.

Once they figured it out.

What an unusual sensation to have water falling on you from above. The knot only ever had basin washes on board Orbito One. But this? This she could get used to.

Romy dried and put on the fresh underclothes they’d been provided. Hanging the towel to dry, she stepped back into the main part of the bungalow.

“Shower’s free,” she called to Phobos.

“Finally,” he muttered. Romy frowned at him as he brushed past.

She raised her eyebrows at Thrym, who shrugged, face turning red as his eyes scanned her body. Romy wondered why he did it. It wasn’t like her entire knot hadn’t seen her in underwear before—a million times. The Earth underwear was a little different, she supposed.

She returned to her bed to find her bundle open and scattered everywhere. The pants and sleeveless shirt she’d seen before were gone.

Romy turned a glare to Elara, who lay on her stomach—wearing Romy’s clothes.

“Sorry, Ro. I’m not wearing the thing they gave me,” Elara said. She sat up and reached over, tossing a garment into Romy’s face.

Blood rushed to her cheeks as anger swept through her. She pushed her temper down, turning away from Elara so the girl couldn’t see. Her anger surprised her. It was only a bit of clothing, for comet’s sake.