Page 3 of Atmosphere

She looks up, past the payload bay doors, to see Earth in the distance. Clouds streak across the deserts of North Africa. For a moment, Vanessa stops and looks at the Indian Ocean.

For so long, she has loved to be above the clouds. But to be this far above them knocks her breath from her chest.

“My God,” Griff says.

Vanessa turns toward him. They are both tethered to the ship, and Griff pushes away.

She follows, headed straight for the payload. The view is spectacular, but the real reason she’s here is because she wants nothing more than to tinker with a machine two hundred and eighteen miles above Earth’s atmosphere.

They get to the payload, and each takes their position. There are four latches, two on each side of the satellite.

“Take it slow, Ford,” Griff says. “I’m going to be very upset if we set the record for the shortest spacewalk.”

“There’s not really much time we can milk out of this,” she says. “It’s just releasing a few clamps. But all right.”

Using a socket wrench, Vanessa cranks open one of the latches on her side, then moves to the other. Once her second latch is open, she waits a brief moment for Griff to get his second one released, too.

When he’s done, he sighs. “Houston, the clamps have been released, in no small part thanks to the brilliantly efficient Vanessa Ford.”

“Copy that,Navigator.Good job,” Joan says. And then, after a moment: “Navigator,we’ve got hours left on these suits, so better to keep you in the airlock as we deploy, in case we need you again.”

“Awww,” Griff says. “Now you’re just being nice.”

“Well,” Joan says, “we’ve got a soft spot for you down here.”

“Back at ya, Houston,” he says. “Roger that. Ford and I will stay in the airlock.”

They float back. Griff lets Vanessa in first and then joins her. He goes to shut the hatch. But then he stops and looks at Vanessa. He lifts his eyebrows.

Protocol is to close that hatch. But if they leave it open, they will be able to watch the satellite deploy.

Vanessa does not want to lie to Houston. Still, a smile escapes from her.

Griff smiles back and takes his hand off the hatch. He does not close it.

“Houston, we are in the airlock,” he says.

They both turn their attention to the open hatch. They watch as the tilt table is raised into position to release the satellite.

“Houston, we are happy with the degree of the sat,” Vanessa can hear Steve say.

She thinks about their last night before the mission, when they were quarantined at Cape Canaveral. Steve had spent an hour on the phone with Helene. Hank was annoyed because he’d been waiting to call Donna. But Steve had just stood there, leaning against the kitchen counter, making jokes with his wife, his bright blue eyescrinkling as he laughed. Vanessa had listened more than she probably should have. It seemed so easy for Steve to be both sides of himself at the same time—the man he is on the ground and the commander he has to be up here. For her, those two roles have always been in conflict. “Are we cleared to deploy?”

“Affirmative,Navigator,” Joan says. “You are cleared to deploy.”

Lydia is on the remote manipulator system, the RMS. She will release the satellite.

“Roger that, Houston,” Lydia says. “Preparing to deploy.”

“Copy that,Navigator.”

There are two explosive cords holding the Arch-6 in the payload bay. Vanessa and Griff watch as one is detonated according to plan.

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.

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