Page 144 of Atmosphere

In the three minutes it takes for the burn, the future dares to seep into Joan’s mind. She stares straight ahead, her eyes wide, trying not to picture what comes next.

When it ends, she forces herself to redirect her attention back to the present moment.

“Flight, this is Guidance, good burn, no trim required.”

“Roger,” Joan says. “Good burn,Navigator.No trim required.”

“Copy that, Houston. No trim required.”

Joan allows herself a moment to picture it: Vanessa’s feet back on Earth.

Jack is on the main loop: “All right, everybody! Good work. We are in the post-burn. PROP, any deltas?”

“Negative, Flight. No deltas.”

Jack nods.

The shuttle knows what to do from here. The onboard guidance will direct the firing of the RCS thrusters to maneuverNavigatorfrom the upside-down and backward position to nose forward for reentry into the atmosphere.

Even with everything operating optimally, the entry into the Earth’s atmosphere is dangerous. The pressure of reentry can cause the skin of the shuttle to reach temperatures up to 3,000 degrees Fahrenheit—enough to burn up an unprotected spacecraft and everything in it.

But the shuttle, with its coat of thermal tiles and blankets, is built to withstand this heat—provided reentry is executed perfectly and the payload bay doors are closed tight.

Joan reminds herself that the shuttle is capable of more than their conservative estimates. They’ve already seen that on other missions. That’s what Joan is holding on to.

“Houston, this isNavigator.”

Joan sits forward. “We read you,Navigator.”

“I’m over the Indian Ocean.”

“Affirmative, we read that you are over the Indian Ocean.”

“Reentry will be in less than an hour.”

“Affirmative,Navigator.”

“Goodwin, can we…”

“Ford, do you read? We lost you.”

“No, I’m here. I just…Look, I want to say something. Before…I know people are listening. I know they can hear me say it, but…Will you tell everyone I’m sorry?” Vanessa says.

“Roger that,” Joan says.

“No, please, listen to me,” Vanessa says.“I’m sorry.”

Joan closes her eyes.

“Do you remember when we were arguing about the best song about space?” Vanessa continues.

“Of course I do.”

“I was so intense about it,” Vanessa says. “I feel so silly. I got so mad at Griff.”

“He understood,” Joan says. “You know he understood you, right?”

“I know. I know he did.”

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