Like the other members of the Second Catholic Church, Noemi has her rosary beads in hand, the small stone-carved crucifix floating near her face.
Most of the People of the Book are seated close together: The Jews clasp hands with one another the Muslims have been seated in one corner, to better pray toward the distant dot in the sky where Mecca lies. The troops around her share a mix of faiths.
Only the dark star field outside the few small windows reveals how far they are from home. Zero-G even makes it look as if they’re underwater-their hair fanning out from their heads, their booted feet swaying out from their launch harnesses as if caught by the tide. The soft ebb and swell of their whispers sounds like waves against the shore. Noemi wants to pray like the other soldiers she hears around her.
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