Page 36 of Atmosphere

“You don’t know that.”

“I do, actually. I got into a fight about it with Antonio when everyone went up in the T-38s for the first time.”

“Oh.”

“They won’t let me get fully checked out in the T-38 because I’m a commercial pilot, not military. So I’ll always be a backseater. And if I can’t fly the T-38, they won’t let me fly the shuttle. I signed up as a mission specialist. I get that. But I did think that it would be open for discussion, at least. That once they saw what I could do, it would be something to work toward. Which was naïve, in hindsight. They said that they absolutely cannot bend or change the rules.”

“That’s not true,” Joan said.

“What’s not true?”

“They have excused the college-degree requirement for certain members of the military. So why can’t they excuse the military requirement for certain civilians?”

Vanessa looked at her. “I mean, you already know the answer.”

Joan frowned. “Why didn’t you join the military?”

“Women couldn’t join the military as pilots, and now NASA will only take military pilots. Ergo, women can’t be NASA pilots. It’s a nice little work-around they’ve got themselves there. It’s not like I could go to the Naval Academy, like my father did.”

“Your father was in the military?”

“He flew in the Korean War.” Vanessa looked up at the sky. “I think most of my life I’ve been both drawn to and terrified of the idea of being just like him.”

Before Joan could respond, Vanessa said, “Will you show me another one?”

“Of course.” Joan gazed through the scope and set it on the next star, far out along the horizon line. “Do you see Scorpius just with your eye? It looks like, well, a scorpion or maybe a fishhook. Try to find the bright star that has a bit of a reddish hue.”

“I see it—looks a bit like Mars, right?”

“It does. It’s a red giant star, Antares. Ant-Ares. Rival of Ares, the Greek name for Mars. Here, I have it in the viewfinder.”

Vanessa leaned in. “Okay, I see it.”

“Now come look at the sky. It’s low in the distance.”

Vanessa pulled back, Joan now right behind her shoulder. Joan pointed toward Antares and then out. “Antares is in the body of the scorpion, with two stars flanking it. Behind it is the tail. It creates an S shape. But on the other side of Antares are three stars in a line. Those represent the head and the claws. Do you see those?”

“I’m not sure.”

Joan stood closer behind her, trying to align their eyes as much as she could. She pointed again.

“I see them,” Vanessa said. And then she was quiet as she looked further. “I see the whole thing, the whole scorpion now.” And then: “My father died flying an F9F Panther over Sui-ho Dam. I didn’t mention that part.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I was six.”

“I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.”

Vanessa turned back to the stars. “What is the cluster of stars between Hercules and Scorpius? It is not Sagittarius, right?”

“It does look a little like Sagittarius, but Sagittarius is smaller and closer to the horizon. That’s Ophiuchus,” Joan said. “It almost looks like a rounded triangle—as a kid, I thought it looked like a stingray. But it’s said to be a god holding or fighting off snakes. It might even represent the Mesopotamian serpent-god Nirah. Try to find the two winding arms coming off each side.”

“Okay.”

“Did your mother remarry?” Joan asked.

Vanessa nodded, softly, as she looked. “About a year later.”

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