Atmosphere(4)

But then, swiftly, the second cord explodes in a flash unlike anything Vanessa has ever seen before. It looks nothing like their simulations. The explosions tear the metal bands around the satellite into pieces. Debris goes flying in every direction.

Vanessa cannot tell what has happened. All she can see is the flash of metal, and then a grunt comes out of Griff, like the air has been knocked out of his lungs.

She turns to see a gash below the waist ring in his suit. Within seconds, the exposure will kill him. He puts his hand on his suit to cover the hole.

“I’m okay,” he says to her. They both know that his hand on his suit is enough to save him for now. But his voice is a rocky, thin whisper, as if he has spent all of his breath.

Then an alarm begins to sound, one that Vanessa recognizes but cannot place. And it is only once Steve, Hank, and Lydia all begin to shout that she understands there has been a second hit.


As the alarm rings, Joan breathes deeply, trying to think clearly. When Greg stands up, her stomach falls.

“Flight, this is EECOM. We are seeing a negative dP/dT. Pressure is dropping rapidly.”

Jack: “What are we at?”

Before Greg can answer, Hank’s voice comes through the loop, level but sharp: “Houston, this is Navigator. We have a cabin leak. We can feel the rapid depress.”

“Copy that, Navigator,” Joan says. She keeps her voice calm, but this is a choice she has to make. She looks to Jack.

Jack turns to her, eyes focused. “Tell them they have a hole. Judging from the depressure rate, it could be as big as half an inch. It’s punctured the skin somewhere on that aft wall, most likely—mid-deck or flight deck. Do they have a visual?”

Joan relays.

“Negative, Houston,” Hank says. “We see no hole.”

Jack: “Tell them to pull everything off the walls, lockers, close-out panels, anything they can get off to expose the skin—pull it all off!”

“Roger that,” Joan says.

Jack continues: “Keep Ford and Griff in the airlock but start pressurizing as quick as possible. Tell Navigator they need to flow in oxygen and open up nitrogen systems 1 and 2 to the cabin to feed the leak until we find that hole!”

Joan updates the crew. Clear, concise, calm. This is NASA. We have a plan for this.

“Roger that,” Hank says as the crew gets to work. “Already on it.”

Greg: “Flight, EECOM—we aren’t seeing a positive change in the leak rate. Pressure is still dropping.”

Joan knows that Hank is the one most likely feeding the oxygen and nitrogen while Steve and Lydia are pulling everything off the walls—the layers of wires, the sleeping bags—as fast as they can. There is so much lining the limited space of the orbiter, and they are tearing it all away, looking for that hole. Each second that goes by stuns her.

She looks at Jack. But Jack is looking at Greg.

“It’s not in the aft of the flight deck!” Steve says.

“I’m pulling the lockers off the mid-deck!” Lydia calls.

Greg looks up at Jack and shakes his head.

Jack slams his hand onto the top of the console and looks at Sean Gutterson, who is in charge of the mechanical systems. “RMU, what do you have? What are they not seeing? I need something! We have seconds!”

Everyone is up out of their seats. Joan can barely hear herself think.

She has been through simulations like this, with the pressure dropping rapidly and no way to stabilize it.

They have ended only when the leak is found.

Or the crew dies.

This is NASA. We have a plan for this.


Vanessa has closed the hatch, and the airlock is pressurizing.

But as Vanessa watches Griff, she can see that he is losing consciousness. She slips her hand under his, presses it against the hole in his suit, and applies pressure to his lower stomach.

“Griff, Griff,” she says. No response. “John Griffin, do you hear me?”

When he blinks, she cannot tell if it is purposeful. “I’ve got it,” she says to him. “I’ve got you.”

She cannot pinpoint the exact moment he passes out. Only that soon, his hand falls away and now her hand is the only thing keeping him alive until the cabin pressure in the airlock returns. She checks for any indication of blood under his suit. She sees none.

She can hear the commotion and the voices of her crewmates as they try to coordinate. Steve’s voice calms her, but Lydia’s is starting to rise in pitch.

She realizes she has not heard Hank speak in at least thirty seconds.

That moment grows longer and longer. And Vanessa gets a sinking feeling.

When she was six years old, her mother told her that her father died. Vanessa does not remember what her mother said. She only remembers that before her mother said anything, her mother looked at her but could not speak. It was a brief moment, no more than a second. But Vanessa knew something bad had happened. And it was not by what her mother had said, but the silence that had preceded it.

Vanessa thinks of that silence now.


Ray stands up. “Flight, this is Surgeon. John Griffin’s heart rate is dropping.”

Joan has been working to slow down her breathing.

“Hank has lost consciousness,” Lydia says through the loop. And then: “I think Steve has, too.”

Jack goes pale. He looks to Joan. “Stay on Danes.”