CHAPTER 16
What Goes Viral
AVERY
Tessa called with a spreadsheet of internet damage.
Avery accepted the video chat from behind the operations trailer, where signal was reliable and no one could hear her friend say, “Congratulations. You are now half of a ship name.”
“A what?”
“Navery. Nolvery. The internet is divided.”
“Delete the internet.”
“I work in communications, not infrastructure.”
Tessa shared her screen. The viral launch argument had produced clips, reaction videos, pilot commentary, engineering threads, and several accounts pretending expertise. One post identified Avery’s graduate program and old apartment. Another claimed Nolan had hired her as a redemption consultant.
“The attention helps Windline,” Avery said.
“Some of it. It also makes you easier to misrepresent.”
Tessa had built a response plan: claim Avery’s professional profiles, publish a clear biography, state the team’s media boundaries, document ownership, and avoid feeding speculation about romance.
“There is no romance,” Avery said.
“You corrected that fast.”
“Because it is accurate.”
“For now?”
Avery looked toward the field. Nolan stood with Sam beside First Light, checking a route. He listened with his whole body when Sam spoke. The trait was more attractive than she wanted it to be.
“For the record,” she said, “there is no romance.”
Tessa smiled. “I heard the comma.”
They reviewed the professional posts. Avery insisted on crediting Priya, Kira, Sam, Leila, and Nolan by role. Tessa recommended a shorter version for engagement.
“Engagement is not more important than authorship.”
“That sentence is why I love you and why brand managers develop eye twitches.”
Avery published the full credits.
Within an hour, Sam’s description of Open Horizon drew interest from an adaptive-sports foundation. Priya received messages from young technicians asking about apprenticeships. Kira received three marriage proposals and one detailed argument about regulator maintenance.
The attention was not controllable.
It could still be directed more honestly.
That evening, Nolan asked whether she wanted the viral photograph removed from the event feed. It showed them beside the fallen envelope after the ranch landing.
“It is not private,” Avery said. “And it is accurate.”
“You look like you are treating my hand.”
“I was treating your hand.”
“The caption implies emotional rescue.”
Avery reread it. “Then change the caption, not the history.”
Together they rewrote it:
FIRST LIGHT CREW AFTER A SAFE OFF-TARGET LANDING. MINOR HAND AbrASION TREATED. NO INJURIES OR PROPERTY DAMAGE.
The truth was less romantic than the original.
Avery found it more intimate.