Atmosphere(101)

“Surgeon?”

“Go.”

Jack nods at Joan. “They have a go for the deorbit burn.”

“Navigator, this is Houston,” Joan says. “You are a go for the deorbit burn.”

“Copy that,” Vanessa says. “Go for the deorbit burn.”

Everyone in Mission Control—on the floor, in the director’s suite, in the theater behind them—watches the telemetry with a sense of unease.

First, Vanessa needs to get Navigator into the proper position. She needs to fly it upside down and backward, with her tail pointed in the direction she wants to go.

Barely a breath can be heard as all of Mission Control watches the data on the screens.

The orbiter slowly moves into place.

“Flight, PROP. We’ve got a good config for the burn.”

There’s a collective exhalation.

Joan: “Navigator, we’ve got a good config for the deorbit burn.”

“Roger, Houston. Good config for the burn.”

In the three minutes it takes for the burn, the future dares to seep into Joan’s mind. She stares straight ahead, her eyes wide, trying not to picture what comes next.

When it ends, she forces herself to redirect her attention back to the present moment.

“Flight, this is Guidance, good burn, no trim required.”

“Roger,” Joan says. “Good burn, Navigator. No trim required.”

“Copy that, Houston. No trim required.”

Joan allows herself a moment to picture it: Vanessa’s feet back on Earth.

Jack is on the main loop: “All right, everybody! Good work. We are in the post-burn. PROP, any deltas?”

“Negative, Flight. No deltas.”

Jack nods.

The shuttle knows what to do from here. The onboard guidance will direct the firing of the RCS thrusters to maneuver Navigator from the upside-down and backward position to nose forward for reentry into the atmosphere.

Even with everything operating optimally, the entry into the Earth’s atmosphere is dangerous. The pressure of reentry can cause the skin of the shuttle to reach temperatures up to 3,000 degrees Fahrenheit—enough to burn up an unprotected spacecraft and everything in it.

But the shuttle, with its coat of thermal tiles and blankets, is built to withstand this heat—provided reentry is executed perfectly and the payload bay doors are closed tight.

Joan reminds herself that the shuttle is capable of more than their conservative estimates. They’ve already seen that on other missions. That’s what Joan is holding on to.

“Houston, this is Navigator.”

Joan sits forward. “We read you, Navigator.”

“I’m over the Pacific.”

“Affirmative, we read that you are over the Pacific.”

“Reentry will be in less than an hour.”

“Affirmative, Navigator.”

“Goodwin, can we . . .”

“Ford, do you read? We lost you.”

“No, I’m here. I just . . . Look, I want to say something. Before . . . I know people are listening. I know they can hear me say it, but . . . Will you tell everyone I’m sorry?” Vanessa says.

“Roger that,” Joan says.

“No, please, listen to me,” Vanessa says. “I’m sorry.”

Joan closes her eyes.

“Do you remember when we were arguing about the best song about space?” Vanessa continues.

“Of course I do.”

“I was so intense about it,” Vanessa says. “I feel so silly. I got so mad at Griff.”

“He understood,” Joan says. “You know he understood you, right?”

“I know. I know he did.”

Joan’s chest begins to cave in. She snaps herself out of it.

“I think both of us—Griff and I—should have been listening to you,” Vanessa says. “You had the right idea the whole time.”

“Ford, my song was from Sesame Street,” Joan says.

Vanessa does not laugh. “Yeah, but . . . it’s kind of that simple, isn’t it? You get up here, and then for one reason or another, you realize you want to come home.”

Joan does not answer for a moment. Jack moves closer to her, standing just behind her. She cannot bear to look at him. To see how much of this he understands.

“Goodwin, do you read?” Vanessa says.

“Of course.” Joan nods. “Yes, of course. Roger that.”

“I want to come home.”

“We know you do,” Joan says. “We know.”

“It’s just that I can’t do it without Lydia. I couldn’t live with myself.”

Joan does not know what to say back.

How could I say I loved you if I didn’t love this about you?

“Tell her when we see her again,” Jack says, “I’m going to slap her on the back to congratulate her, and Antonio is going to fire her—all in one fell swoop.”

Joan looks at him. His eyes are bloodshot. The smile plastered on his face is so superficial she can already see the frown underneath it.

But she relays the message.

Vanessa tries to laugh. “Who all is there?” she asks. “At the flight center. You must have a lot of guests by now.”