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I nod. “I understand. This is not a fair system. It is a perpetuation of other systems that were also inherently unfair.”

“You’re full of surprises,” she says. “Most people who are part of the problem don’t like to admit there’s a problem.”

I push the air through my lips in exasperation. “I would think it obvious to anyone with a brain. Denying the ugly truth does not make it less true, it makes it more likely to stay true for longer.”

“Then why not do more to fix the system?” she asks. I can see it is a question she has asked herself often without a satisfying answer. I fear my response will not be any more satisfying than anything else she’s heard, but I speak my truth nonetheless.

“The system could not be fixed,” I say simply. “Not in time.”

“That’s not true!” her cheeks flush red and her voice rises. “If the rich, powerful, entitled people like you had done more, if big businesses had taken one iota of responsibility, if governments hadn’t chosen broken industries over science, if--”

I reach for her uninjured hand, which aggressively digs into the dirt. I hold it gently, just as I hold her gaze with mine. “All of these ‘ifs’, they are not reality. We cannot change anything if we do not first accept what is real, not what we wish was real.”

My words seem to pull the fight right out of her, and for that my heart breaks. She slumps against the wall she’s sitting in front of, though she leaves her hand in mine.

“I don’t know how to not be angry,” she says softly. “I’ve spent so many years furiously fighting to protect our planet, I don’t remember the last time I felt at peace. And here we are anyway. It made no difference. We lost. We lost it all.”

This time I can no longer resist, and I pull one hand away from hers to wipe at the tear. I leave a smudge of dirt across her cheek.

“But we have not lost it all,” I say quietly. “Not quite. That is what I was fighting for. When I looked at the world and saw what was real, I knew I needed a plan to meet that reality. This is that plan. You are that plan.”

There is so much more I wish to say, but the words are trapped in my throat by my own sense of propriety. By the rules I made. The contracts I had everyone sign. I have already overstepped my bounds, sitting this close with Azalea while Robert is out.

I put my hands back on my thighs. “When I was a boy back in Russia, my babushka--my grandmother--she was wise like yours. She would always say, do not let past anger burn down future bridges. You have spent the last twenty years of your life rightfully angry. Do you want to spend the next twenty years fanning the flames of that anger on a new planet? Will that energy help us create a new world? Is anger the legacy of humanity you want to leave?”

I can tell my words hit deep within her, and I worry I have said too much too soon.

Before I can ask her, the door to the suite opens and Robert walks in holding a tray of food in one hand and a bucket of ice in the other.

“Sorry it took so long. There were a lot of people there and--” he stops when he sees us both sitting on the floor. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t realize you had company.”

Azalea wipes her eyes and starts to stand, but I jump up and help her before she can get too far.

“Marek came by to bring me a pot for my tree cutting,” she says, wiping her dirty hand on her shorts.

Robert looks at the tree, at the dirt littering the floor. “Oh, I see. That was… generous.”

I turn to Azalea. “As I said, let me know if you need anything else for your tree. Enjoy your evening.”

I leave, and when the door slides closed behind me, I exhale, my heart thumping in my chest.

We were doing nothing untoward. I have not said or done anything I should be ashamed of. We did not cross any lines.

But that, of course, is not the point.

I might be innocent on paper, but every fiber of my being wants to destroy those boundaries and take Azalea as my own.

I quickly head into my quarters. Status updates will have to wait a moment longer. I need to find a way to forget all about Dr. Azalea Clark.

5

ZAE

“In the past, it was only in science fiction novels that you could read about ordinary people being able to go to space… But you laid the foundation for space tourism.”

—Nursultan Nazarbayev, first President of Kazakhstan

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