I didn’t know what to say to that. Something in it didn’t sit right, but I could find no argument. I didn’t want to watch the news either, not really. Maybe Jack was right. Why should I fill my head with something I couldn’t change? What was a war on Earth to us? What was an economy to us? To the creatures outside? To the spiralling plants? Nothing around me changed if I chose to not watch the news, but something within me always did. I thought of my crew, each doing in that moment exactly what they wanted to be doing. That seemed like a much saner way to be. I remained unsure, but I nodded.

Jack smiled, stood, and kissed me on the cheek. ‘I’m gonna go shower,’ he said.

‘Please, please do,’ I said, wrinkling my nose.

He gave me a smug look – one that said he knew he was a mess, and that he knew something else, too. ‘Wanna come with?’

I did.

None of us watched the news that day.

None of us watched the news for four years.

I had thought that our time on Mirabilis would feel slow, that it would drag along with our bodies against the pull of the ground. But my memories of that world are a blur – no, blur’s not the right word. I remember it all, distinct and clear. A flip-book, then. A thousand distinct images, rushing past my eyes so fast they take on a life of their own.

Images like: waking in the data lab, sleeve lines pressed deep into my cheek, neck creaking as I raised my head from the table, Chikondi asleep across two chairs beneath a sketch board overflowing with tapestries of thought about legs and lungs and trophic structure. His headphones were hanging around his neck, and I could hear music flowing tinnily. I thought about waking him, but I knew he hadn’t slept the night before that, either. He was a phoenix, burned to ash for the moment, resting in anticipation of the next spark. I turned off his headphones, covered him with my jacket, and tiptoed out.

Like: following Elena in the dawning hours to collect water from the fog fences down at the Al-Ijliya shoreline. An animal had damaged the netting at one site, too vigorous in its sucking of the condensed salt. The unexpected damage frustrated her; I fixed it on the spot. She told me when we got home that she missed when my hair was long enough to pull, then let me sit with that thought as she disappeared behind a microscope for the rest of the day. I fell asleep that night with her curled around my back like a protective shell. I knew she was still pondering the fragile things that live in clouds, and it made me press my spine against her all the harder.

Like: Jack hooking his gloved fingers through my toolbelt loop and tugging me out the airlock, me catching the shovel he tossed through the air, us digging down, down, down to where the living soil turned into slippery clay that wept warm and wet when pressed between our palms. Water began to pool around our feet, and we climbed back into the sun with our samples, racing to see whose strapping arms could ferry them the faster. We tied. We laughed.

Like: Chikondi waking me after midnight with an apology and a grin and the news that he’d finally, finally figured out where Comusporcus dakaii laid its eggs.

Like: Elena standing against a sunset, watching gliding hunters coast on thermals, dropping into dizzying dives after their airborne prey.

Like: Jack whistling as he straddled a boulder to unearth an embedded skull, cleaning out its fossilised eye sockets with a dental pick.

Like: early mornings, late nights, failed naps, wild dreams, quarrels, epiphanies, shouted answers, excited questions, hands that ached from work, eyes that burned from staying open, bruises that made me smile, thoughts that raced and never slowed.

People say things like ‘if we’d found only one new species, it would’ve been enough’. I said something very like it on Aecor. Nothing was ever enough on Mirabilis. Every discovery made, every hour spent in someone else’s sheets, every conversation and collaboration and new vista taken in made me want more, more, more. We were alive on that world. We were kings without enemies, children removed from time.

We should’ve known better, as students of the universe. There’s no escaping entropy.

To understand what happened, you must first understand decontamination protocol for bringing gear used outside back into the Merian.

Step 1: Retrieve all gear from the field. Check meticulously to ensure no items are left behind.

Step 2: Remove any dust, dirt, organic matter, or other visible contaminants using the cleaning kit. (This includes an arsenal of tools for any sort of clean-up, everything from a concentrated air blower to hydrogen peroxide to a handheld UV wand.)

Step 3: Securely latch all boxes, crates, and other storage containers.

Step 4: Proceed into the airlock with your gear. Orient all storage containers so that Side A is facing upward. Activate the airlock’s cold plasma system to sterilise storage container exteriors, as well as the exterior of your TEVA suit.

Step 5: After the first sterilisation cycle is complete, orient all containers so that Side B is facing upward. Activate the cold plasma system. During this cycle, sit on the floor in order to expose the soles of your boots.

Step 6: Open each storage container. Activate the cold plasma system to sterilise your equipment and the container interiors.

Step 7: If any visible contaminants have been discovered during this procedure, clean and sterilise the equipment again. Place any collected contaminants into the incineration chamber.

Step 8: Securely latch all storage containers. Proceed into the spacecraft.

This process is a time-consuming pain, but a vital one. Nothing that originated outside can be allowed within.

All four of us were present in the cargo hold that afternoon, our last day on Mirabilis. I was taking inventory of the storage stacks, ensuring that every crate and strap was where it should be. Jack and Elena were carrying in the last of the equipment from the clean lab (this, too, has its own airlock and plasma chamber). Chikondi was in the ‘front door’ airlock, placing his camera trap crates on a dolly after the final sterilisation cycle. Through the large window, I could see the last of the plasma ebbing around him, a luminous purple fog retreating into wall vents.

I took a box of lab tools from Jack and slid it into its designated place. We’d been at it for hours, and even with their extra strength, my arms and legs were beginning to protest. ‘Hey, anybody want to order pizza after this?’ I said.

Elena gave an amused smile as she stacked. ‘And beer?’

‘Of course beer,’ Jack said. ‘Who has pizza without beer?’

I checked their items off the list on my tablet. ‘Olives and mushrooms?’ I asked.

Elena made a face. ‘I hate mushrooms.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes.’

I’d never noticed that, but then, we’d spent far more time eating spacecraft salad together than we had eating normal fare back on Earth. ‘Jack?’ I asked.

Jack shrugged as he lifted another box. ‘Not much of a fungus man, but I’ll eat them.’

‘Hmm.’ I turned my attention to Chikondi, who was coming out of the airlock with the dolly in tow. ‘Care to weigh in on the mushroom debate of 2162?’

‘They’re okay, but why on pizza?’ he said. ‘Stick to the classics. Cheese, sauce, pepperoni. Why mess with—’

His words ceased as one of his boxes crashed to the floor.

Jack and Elena turned their heads. I frowned; so did Chikondi. The errant object on the floor hadn’t fallen from the top of the pile. It had dislodged itself from a middle row. There was only about a second or two to process this before the box jolted itself several centimetres to the right.