She cannot turn around, and she cannot consider just how many people are listening in on the main loop right now. It is accessible to almost three thousand people, across the Johnson Space Center and the wider Houston area, including the astronauts’ homes and news organizations.

On a normal day, most of them would not be listening. Now they almost certainly all are. This accident has, most likely, already been reported all over the world.

Which means that Donna and Helene know. Even if they weren’t listening earlier, they know by now.

In fact, because of the way some of the men keep glancing behind themselves, Joan suspects that either Donna or Helene is in the theater now. Most likely Helene. Donna is the sort of person who needs to be alone in a situation like this. She has most likely handed Thea over to someone and locked herself in her bedroom or bathroom, refusing to respond to anyone. Helene, on the other hand, is the sort of person who needs to see what is happening for herself. It is almost certainly Helene.

Joan keeps her gaze forward.

The commotion around her is distracting, but the din of murmurs and whispers within Mission Control forms a calming reminder that NASA is not merely a collection of individuals. NASA is a team. Joan had never before in her life felt the sense of belonging that she has with the people here at NASA.

If they get the shuttle home with Vanessa, Lydia, and Griff still alive, the entire campus will share in the relief. And if tragedy strikes further today, Joan knows this team will carry that burden together.

Still, there is a burden that Joan will carry alone.

Joan watches Jack. His shoulders are hunched, his fists tight. Joan opens and closes her own hands, trying to make space in the bones.

Since the end of November, Joan has been having dreams in which her life is less complicated than it really is. When she wakes in the morning, she always has to take a moment to understand that the dream wasn’t real.

But today, she keeps forgetting that this is real.

Steve and Hank are dead. Griff and Lydia might not make it.

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 land Navigator safely today on your own.”