Jack gave me a thumbs up from where he lay. Whether this meant yes or I do now was anyone’s guess, but ultimately immaterial. Jack would remember. Patch check-ups are something even he wouldn’t mess around with.

I left my cabin and climbed down the ladder to the deck below. I found Elena in the control room, reviewing that morning’s data on the big screen. I could tell from the flush in her cheeks that she’d already been outside that day, walking at her usual steady clip from weather station to weather station, making sure her instruments were in good order. A green light on a monitor is never enough for her. Elena likes visual checks. She likes tangibility. The wind and sky were ephemeral enough, she told me once. If she’s going to study them, she wants to feel them.

‘Anything good?’ I asked, my palm cupping her shoulder. I share her cabin sometimes, too. She doesn’t move her cot into mine. Elena likes her own space.

I knew her responding expression well – that sure-footed half-smile, oozing satisfaction, a look that says she has her shit together better than anyone ever has or will. ‘Numbers are always good,’ she said. She looked at me, her gaze shifting to the sides of my head. ‘Your hair could use some help.’

I laughed. ‘Yeah, I was hoping you could—’

She was already out of her chair, waving me toward the bathroom. When Elena tells you to follow her somewhere, you go. Doesn’t matter if it’s down a dark cliff or into an unfamiliar alley or just across the hall. When Elena decides where she’s going, all you can do is try to keep up.

We fell into our usual positions: me on the floor, her on a stool with clippers in hand and legs making a chair around me. She put a towel around my shoulders and guided my head downward, pushing gently against the crown of my skull with her palm. The clippers buzzed against my scalp. Little tufts of shorn hair tumbled onto our respective legs. She has strong legs, which used to run marathons and were never too proud to dance if asked. I felt safe there, as I always do, and was profoundly glad of that feeling. Thirteen conscious years of living with and working with and leaning on Elena, and to this day, she still intimidates the hell out of me. In a good way.

‘Do you miss coffee?’ I asked.

Elena let out a short moan. ‘God, yes. Do you know how much more I’d get done around here if we had caffeine?’ She nudged my head to the side and worked around my ears. ‘I miss hot chocolate, too.’

‘Oh, man.’ I closed my eyes, remembering warm Christmases with family, cheap packet mixes in school, gratifying thermoses on camping trips. ‘With marshmallows.’

‘Fuck marshmallows. Cinnamon or go home.’

I laughed, and so did she. She finished my haircut, brushing the tickling scraps off my neck, and looked at herself in the mirror. ‘I could use a touch-up too, I think,’ she said. I didn’t offer to return the favour. Elena cuts her own hair, and had already started to do so over the sink. ‘I’ll clean up,’ she said. ‘You know to file check-ups today, right?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I already did mine, but I don’t think Chikondi has yet.’

‘Is he up?’

She mmm’d assent, running the razor over her head. I left her to it, and headed back to the ladder. I didn’t need to guess where my remaining crewmate was.

I climbed down, past life support and on to the cargo hold. I went into Airlock A, through the metal walls of the spacecraft and into one of the inflatable modules. A wave of humid air hit me, and my eyes squinted as they adjusted to the brightness of the grow lights.

Chikondi stood at the greenhouse’s workbench, inspecting his first cuttings under a microscope and singing quietly along with his headphones. I walked up beside him and casually watched him work, waiting for the inevitable delight of the moment when he realised I was there.

The moment came, and it was perfect. Chikondi jumped about a foot.

‘Ariadne!’ He took off his headphones, pushed me in mock anger, and laughed at himself. ‘How long have you been there?’

‘Just a minute.’

Chikondi shook his head. ‘That’s a terrible way to say good morning.’

‘I’m very sorry,’ I said, not sorry at all.

He looked at me, waiting.

‘Good morning, Chikondi.’

‘Good morning,’ he returned pointedly. ‘Here, look—’ He picked up a tiny leaf of fast-growing spinach, engineered to go from seed to salad in days. ‘I saved this for you.’

I took the offering and held it up. The stem had split itself, forming two little leaves side by side. ‘It’s twins.’

‘It’s a mutant!’ he said happily. No further explanation for why he had set it aside was needed. The leaf was a mutant, and mutants were cool, the end. He reached out, broke one of the leaves off, and popped it into his mouth.

I did the same with my half. ‘That’s a tasty mutant,’ I said.

He nodded enthusiastically. ‘I think this nutrient mix is a winner. This crop’s already coming out much more robust than our training batches. I’ll write up the changes I made in our next report. When’s it due?’

‘Tuesday. Hey, speaking of mutants and protocol—’

He stared at me for a moment, searching. ‘Check-ups,’ he said. ‘Right.’ He looked a little despondent at the idea of leaving his workbench, but nodded with a responsible sigh. Chikondi, unlike Jack, would forget, especially if something as enticing as plant samples were at hand. ‘Let’s do it.’

We went back up the ladder together, chatting about the success of his fertiliser. He’d been working on this project for weeks before launch, and I’d stayed up many a night with him in our shared campus home, letting him bounce thoughts about potassium and nitrogen off of me. Chikondi’s not interested in sex – with me or anyone else – but when he comes to my cabin to talk, we engage in another kind of sharing, one that’s every bit as good and every bit as intimate.

‘Me first, or you first?’ he asked as we entered the medical bay.

I headed for the supply cabinet. ‘You first?’

He hopped up on the exam table, and we followed protocol, step by step. I checked his weight, his vitals. I could feel him relax under my touch, as I’d done with Elena as she cut my hair. It made me feel steady, that reciprocal trust.

‘Do you miss coffee?’ I asked as I listened to his heartbeat. We have a pulse reader that’s more accurate than the stethoscope, but Chikondi’s the one who taught me how a heart speaks. Thanks to him, I can deduce each clap and echo, read meaning in muscle. Much as I love machines, this is one instance in which I prefer to listen for myself – especially if I am listening to him.

‘Hmm.’ He smiled distantly as he turned my question over. He opened his mouth, closed it in thought, and opened it again. ‘I never really liked coffee.’

‘Caffeine, or the taste?’

‘The taste. But – huh. I suppose I do miss it.’

I rolled up his sleeve. ‘Why?’

He looked toward the ceiling, losing himself in a memory as I drew his blood. ‘I miss my father making it in the mornings when I lived at home. Everybody else drank it – my mother, my brothers. I don’t miss drinking it. I miss it being around. I miss the sorts of gatherings that call for coffee.’ He was quiet for a moment, then glanced at the monitor I’d plugged his sample into. ‘All good?’