There’s no data on the airlock hatch. It is one of the few things on the shuttle that doesn’t send its own signal. Which means one of them has to notify Houston that they are about to open it.

Vanessa looks at Griff. She’s glad she’s doing this alongside him. She’s always liked him. Not just because they are both from New England, although it helps.

“Houston, we are opening the airlock,” Griff says.

Vanessa begins to open the hatch. She tries to keep her heart rate steady. She’s been working toward this moment for five years, dreaming of it most of her life.

Space.

She and Griff both inhale when they can see through the hatch.

They’ve looked through the window, but nothing quite prepares them for the sight of it now.

Vanessa’s mind goes blank. There are bright lights from the ship, but beyond that everything is black. There is no horizon, only the edge of Navigator and then nothingness with the brilliant colors of Earth in the distance.

“Wow,” Vanessa says. She looks to Griff. He’s lost in the vision of it himself.

She lets go of the ship and moves through the hatch, to take her first step into space. Her legs feel steady as she wades into the darkness. Her eyes widen at the intensity of it, a void unlike anything she’s ever seen.

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.”