Atmosphere(99)

“If I stay to fix the payload bay doors, even if I get them to lie flat, Lydia will almost certainly die,” Vanessa says.

“We understand that. But if you do not fix the payload bay doors, it is most likely that the shuttle will not make it. Which means Lydia will not make it, either,” Joan says. Vanessa admires the strength and directness in her voice.

There’s not really any branch of statistics that can weigh her chances of closing the latches against Lydia’s chances of surviving another rev. There is no concrete answer. Everyone listening knows that.

“Lydia saved me,” Vanessa says. “She saved the shuttle. She tried to save us all.”

“Affirmative,” Joan says.

Vanessa waits and then Joan speaks up again, in a tone softer than she has used all day: “We know. We know.” And then: “But we cannot lose you.”

Vanessa closes her eyes. She can feel her breath quickening. She wants to try to fix the shuttle doors. She wants to get home and smell the dirt and oil of Earth. She wants to find her mother. She wants to see Joan’s face again.

She wants so badly to see Joan’s face again.

Please, God, let her see Joan’s face again.



Joan understands what is going to happen before Vanessa says it.

She understands what is going to happen before anyone in Mission Control does.

She understands that it is the only thing that can happen.

There is commotion on the floor. Ray and Jack are going back and forth about how much time Lydia has. RMU is running through possibilities for what the shuttle can withstand upon reentry.

But Joan stares straight ahead at the telemetry.

Her muscles go limp for a moment, and she can feel her soul retreat into the core of her body.

She cannot love Vanessa without understanding why she will do what she does next.

But she is also furious.


Vanessa closes her eyes. She stares at the darkness within herself. The fact that Joan is not speaking, Vanessa understands, is because Joan is giving her a chance to think this through . . .

When the answer comes—so clear—she knows that her only course of action is the cruelest thing she could do to the woman she loves.

And she hates the fact that she would not be able to live with herself if she made any other choice.

She had made Joan a promise. That she would wake up every single day and choose her. Forever.

And now she must break that promise.

“I cannot leave Lydia to die,” Vanessa says.

“I know,” Joan says in a whisper. “I know.”

Vanessa can hear the breathlessness in Joan’s voice, and she wants to reach through the microphone and hold her and apologize. She wants to tell her that given the choice, she would deny herself the joy of having met Joan, just to keep Joan safe from what she has to do now.

She wants to say, “I’m sorry, honey,” in between hyperventilating sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

But she cannot do that.

What Vanessa is about to do will end her NASA career, if it does not end her life. But Joan’s life will go on. And Joan is great as CAPCOM. She can’t ruin that for Joan now.

So instead, she says, “Houston, I deeply regret any pain that will be caused by what I must do.”

There is no immediate response, so she keeps going: “But I could not live with myself if I didn’t try to get Lydia home in time to save her.”

If she has secured the payload bay doors just enough, she can save them both. If she keeps trying, she can only save herself.

“Navigator,” Joan says. Her voice sounds strong, but Vanessa can sense that it is cracking at the edges. “We are asking you to please continue to work on the payload bay doors in the hopes that we can at least get you home. That is what Jack is commanding right now. Do you read, Vanessa Ford? This is Jack’s command.”

Vanessa nods to herself and closes her eyes.

The way Joan says it reverberates in her mind.

This is Jack’s command.

Vanessa begins gathering the tools and securing them in the tool kit. “Roger that, Houston. Understood,” she says. “But I believe that trying to land the shuttle with the doors as they are now is Lydia’s best chance of survival.”

“Navigator, the entire—”

“Tell NASA to do whatever they have to do to me if I survive,” Vanessa says. “Censure me, fire me, arrest me. I do not care. I’m going back into the flight deck, and I’m starting deorbit procedures.”

“Navigator, you do not have the approval—”

“Everybody down there, listen to me. It’s not a discussion,” Vanessa says.

She needs to make Joan understand that there is no way to change her mind, or else Joan will blame herself for everything that happens today. She will replay it in her head for the rest of her life to see if there was anything she could have said to convince Vanessa otherwise. Vanessa cannot allow that to happen.

Vanessa needs Joan to understand that this was always inevitable.

From the moment Vanessa was born, this moment has been inevitable.

“I know a lot of people are listening right now,” Vanessa says. “I know you all know that I’m breaking protocol. For anyone reviewing this later, the transcript will show that I am doing this alone: I’m making this decision. Joan isn’t. Jack isn’t. No one at NASA is.