A radiator inside the payload bay doors has a blockage at the same time the flash evaporator is low on water, which means the heat of the spacecraft is not dispersing, and you can’t fix it? The orbiter burns up and the crew dies.

Any one of the ASCANs who was chosen would be putting their lives in the hands of their fellow crew members and everyone down in Mission Control. Hank, she knew, would do anything to save her life. Donna, she was confident, would, too. Griff would. Vanessa surely would.

Would Lydia?

It suddenly seemed too full of risk to ignore Lydia. Or Jimmy. Or Marty, or any of the ASCANs she didn’t get along with. Success would be found together or not at all.

“Hear me out, Lydia,” Joan said. She grabbed an unopened beer from the cooler next to them and handed it to Lydia. “You’re not just an astronaut—do you get that?”

“Well, not yet,” Lydia said.

“No, I mean…this isn’t all that you are.”

Lydia looked at Joan as if she were the stupidest person she’d ever met.

“Come on,” Joan said. “You have hobbies.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You have friends.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“You have your family.”

“My parents like my brother’s wife more than me. They all go on skiing trips together and don’t invite me. My dad still hangs out with my ex-husband.”

“I bet it’s because you’re too…” Joan hiccuped and covered her mouth. “Busy.”

Lydia frowned and gave up. “Sure.”

Joan took the beer back out of Lydia’s hand and opened it.

“What are you doing, Goodwin?”

“The clock is going to strike midnight soon. I’m not going to kiss anybody—are you?”

Lydia glared at her. “Do you see any man knocking down my door?”

“Right, okay. So have a beer with me. We can ring in the new year together. You need to take a load off for a moment.”

Lydia inhaled sharply and then took the beer. “Just until midnight.”

“Great: for fourteen minutes, try to calm down, and then you can go right back to shoving coal up your butt and pulling out diamonds.”

Joan was drunk. Even she knew it now. But it was fun! She should do this more often. Why had she spent so much time with her nose in a book up until now? She liked going to parties!

Lydia stared at her. “That wasn’t funny.”

Spring 1981

Joan was standing on top of the launch control center at Kennedy Space Center with her aviator sunglasses on and her bomber jacket unzipped, revealing her blue polo shirt and khakis. It was Sunday, April 12, and while it would grow warmer during the day, it was not yet seven in the morning and there was still a chill in the air.