Launch on Need by Daniel Guiteras (small books to read txt) 📗

for a reason to end this call—anything to signal it was unnecessary.

The artificial indirect lighting in the space-tracking room offered no clues of day or night, cloudy or clear skies, winter or summer—no outward signs of life on Earth. Lighting and temperature were kept constant. The uniformed men and women of the space control center, their faces awash in the muted hues of amber and blue of their monitors, worked their stations, not from some aircraft carrier out at sea, or the cramped quarters of a fighter jet. Instead, they sat cocooned inside the walls of Cheyenne Mountain, carefully watching instruments that relayed information about some place entirely different.

They were patrolling outer space.

The specialist was reasonably sure of his data. He had compared it with three other sites all showing the same thing. He was certain this call was warranted, and yet the 10 seconds of dead air in his headset made him question what he saw.

“This is Commander Scheckter, go ahead.”

“Sir, ah,” the mere sound of the commander’s voice sent the specialist’s mind tripping. “I think, I think there’s something here you need to see.”

“Yes. Well, what is it?” Scheckter returned in his usual booming voice.

“Right, well, it seems sir there’s an object orbiting with Space Shuttle Columbia.”

“I’m sorry son, say again.”

The specialist cleared his throat, then clarified his message.

“We started getting data back from the SSN about 20 minutes ago. It shows a small object orbiting with Columbia.”

Scheckter paused briefly, changing his pitch and tone from commander to colleague, facilitating an easier flow of communication, realizing this was a call he needed to take.

“Okay son, tell me what we know.”

The SSN, or Space Surveillance Network, is comprised of a worldwide network of 20 ground-based radar and optical sensor sites, and a single low Earth-orbiting satellite with sensors capable of measuring ultraviolet to very long-wave infrared light. The SSN is monitored 24 hours per day, 365 days per year, by rotating Space Control’s five teams of 11 space system specialists. Using data obtained from the SSN, the Space Control Center maintains a catalog of more than 9,000 manmade orbiting objects in space. The SSN is capable of “seeing” and tracking objects as small as 10 centimeters in length—a little larger than the diameter of a baseball.

“Sir, we first confirmed the object on radar at 3:57 P.M., EST. We have data from multiple sites including Eglin, Beale, Kirtland, Cape Cod, Maui, and Navy SSS. They all concur; they show a small object orbiting with the spacecraft.”

“No one saw it entering the box?” the commander asked. The commander was referring to the monitored area of space surrounding Columbia, an imaginary rectangle or “box” measuring 25 miles long and wide by six miles high. Whenever an orbiter is in space, Space Control monitors the orbiter throughout its mission, clearing a corridor for safe travel through its glide path. If an object, known as space junk, approaches the monitoring rectangle, or comes within 36 to 72 hours of colliding with the orbiter, Space Control notifies NASA so that evasive action can be taken if necessary.

“Well, that’s just why I’m calling you sir; the data shows the object never entered the box.”

“I’m not sure I’m following.”

“We back-checked all the data, sir. Today is only Columbia’s third day in space, so it was a relatively small amount of data to go through. We looked at everything since the launch of Columbia, and there’s nothing up until the time we see the object at 3:57 P.M. today. The object just appears!”

“So what are you saying, that something floated out of Columbia’s cargo bay?”

“Well, I guess it’s possible, sir. But the point I’m trying to make is that the object just appears out of nowhere, right near Columbia’s left wing. Earlier today, this morning actually, Columbia made its two scheduled maneuvers—something about positioning for some experiments they were going to do. Anyway, at 9:42 A.M., Columbia moved from a tail-first to a right-wing-first orientation. Then later at 10:17 A.M., we show it moving back to a tail-first orientation. Maybe something came loose then, sir.”

Chapter 7

Kennedy Space Center, Florida

Saturday, Jan. 18, 2003

6:45 PM EST

THE CAMERAMAN FROM CNN had humored John Stangley long enough. Stangley had promised he knew of a great spot for his exclusive story about Columbia, but getting transportation out to Launch Complex 39 observation gantry was more difficult than he had expected. When the Kennedy Space Center press-transport van finally dropped them off at the gantry, they had less than 10 minutes to get set for their exclusive live shot.

Stangley was first out of the van, walking past the elevator and straight to the stairs. He flew up the first flight two at a time, the metal-grate stairs ringing out each step.

“Hey John, anything wrong with the elevator?” the cameraman called out to Stangley while hauling his camera and battery pack over one shoulder.

“It’s not too much farther,” Stangley encouraged from above. The truth was, Stangley was on his way up to the third deck of the gantry, which rose above the ground 60 feet.

When Stangley reached the third deck he felt exhilarated. His heartbeat thumped in his neck; his breathing was fast and deep.

“I’m up here on the south side of the third deck,” he called down to his cameraman in a fragmented, breathless sentence. He quickly walked to the south railing and took in the view, squinting slightly into the onshore breeze. Stangley sensed the history. To the southeast were launch pads 39A and B; while redesigned and upgraded for the space shuttle and its unique characteristics, they were the same pads used for the Apollo missions. To the southwest were a collection of other launch pads used for Deltas, Titans and Atlas rockets. The display plaque mounted to the south railing detailed the various launch sites.

“Nice shot, Stangley, but next time we use the elevator, okay?” the cameraman begged.

John