“Before the call buzzed in, Nedda wound her fingers in the small knot of hair at the back of Evgeni’s head. Light, scratchy – a warm steel-wool pad, but soft. She gave it a gentle tug. “See? I like you fine.” When Mission Control appeared on-screen, Evgeni was laughing. They said nothing about blindness. Nothing about energy spikes or which government made the swap from plutonium to strontium. The space between Earth and Chawla filled with all the things that could not be said.”
