Page 29 of Atmosphere

At least Vanessa is safe right now.

“Houston, the galley has been deactivated.”

Jack: “Let’s prep her to close the payload doors.”

Joan on the loop: “Copy, Houston. We want you to begin to close the payload doors.”

“Roger that,” Vanessa says.

“Let’s go to the deorbit checklist, page two-dash-fifteen. You will be running a deorbit burn soon.”

“Copy that,” Vanessa says. And then, more quietly: “Okay. I can do this.”

Joan knows that tone in Vanessa’s voice. The tiny waver.

“Ford,” she says. There is so much she wants to say to Vanessa that she can’t. “Everyone here believes that you have the ability to landNavigatorsafely today on your own.”

Joan believes this. Even though no one in the history of NASA has ever had to do it before.

Vanessa does not respond for a moment. Then: “Thank you, Houston. After a certain point, the shuttle can land itself. We just need to get to that point as quick as we can. I’m going to get started.”

What if Joan got on the loop and said what she was really thinking? What if she told Vanessa everything she needed her to know?

Watching the telemetry monitors, Joan can see that Vanessa has thrown the first switch to close the payload bay doors. The left one has closed. As Vanessa begins to close the right, Sean Gutterson stands up.

Sean: “Flight, this is RMU. The latches on the right forward bulkhead aren’t closing. We think the PLBDs were hit in the explosion.”

Jack stares ahead and blinks.

“Houston,” Vanessa says. “I’m getting a malfunction signal on the right forward bulkhead gang.”

“Roger that,” Joan says and looks to Jack.

Jack holds his pen, clicking it over and over, grasping it so tight his fist is red and his knuckles turn white. He closes his eyes and inhales, shaking his head. “Ford’s going to have to do it manually.” He opens his eyes. “If she’s going back into the payload bay, that means she has to get into the suit on her own. She can do that, right, EVA?”

Chuck Peterson, the man assigned to extra-vehicular activity, stands. “The suits were not designed that way. But she got out of it by herself, so we believe she can get into it by herself.”

“If you tell her she has to do it,” Joan says, “she will.”

Jack nods. “EECOM, are we still at 10.2 psi?”

“Affirmative.”

“What does that give us for a pre-breathe?”

Greg does not answer Jack at first, still calculating. Jack stands up, tosses the pen onto his desk. “C’mon! What does that give us for a pre-breathe?”

Greg: “We believe seventy-five minutes. The team is evaluating whether we can shorten it.”

Jack leans onto the desk in front of him. “Either way, when you add in the time to get in the suit, and get the latches closed, and get back in and start the deorbit, we’ve lost a rev, maybe two.”

He looks across the room to Tony Gallo, the flight dynamics officer. “FIDO, get us landing site options.”

FIDO: “Copy that.”

Ray: “Flight, Surgeon. Based on Griff’s vitals, he may have more time than Danes. But if we don’t get them home in the next seven hours, one or both may not make it.”

Jack: “The shuttle cannot land without the payload bay doors shut. It will burn up on reentry.”

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