"Recombination" had been pounded into us since we first began training.
We were lucky in a way. There was only one possible recombination.
Yeah, lucky.
Helene Donnelly was a good kid, the best. But she was just that. A kid. If we didn't make it, she'd never live to be old enough to vote. She'd been in training since she was fourteen.
I'm almost thirty-five. I don't look it—space doesn't age you that way—but it's all there.
I could have recombined with Belle Leonard. It would have been awkward, but I could have done it. Helene could have recombined with Ed Travis without too much trouble.
But this way—
If we didn't make an honest recombination soon—not just a going through of motions—all the training and conditioning in the Solar System wouldn't be able to prevent us from feeling the terrible sense of loss that normally comes with the death of a loved one.
I was beginning to feel it already.