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

Warner was also the only one authorized to request on-orbit imaging of Columbia if necessary. His security clearance allowed him access to at least some of the military’s secret imaging capabilities.

But the bulk of communication between the Johnson Space Center and SPACECOM, such as daily updates on Columbia’s current vector or any planned major changes in trajectory, occurred through messages entered into the JSC Message Center. Warner was familiar with Commander Scheckter’s brevity of speech, his military-style economy of words, and preference for written electronic communication versus verbal conversation over the telephone. And so, whenever Scheckter used the phone, Warner feared something was wrong.

“I’m glad you called, actually,” Warner said, straightening his posture. “I was just about to call you—to inquire about getting imaging of Columbia on-orbit.” Warner realized he was talking too fast and sounding nervous. Truth was, Scheckter, and everything about Cheyenne Mountain, freaked him out. The place flat out scared the crap out of him.

Warner had taken a VIP tour of the facility two years earlier as part of his FDO training program at NASA. During his visit, Warner had all his suspicions about how he was not fit for military service solidly confirmed. The personnel he met were all cordial, respectful and professional to him, of course; their actions in fact made him feel proud, even patriotic. It was the setting—with its cold, hard, carved form, and which required myriad systems in place just to keep it alive—that unsettled him. Buildings perched on massive springs, blast valves were installed into the air-intake and fresh-water supply lines, and six 2,800-horsepower diesel generators powered it all. To Warner, Cheyenne Mountain was a soulless beast of a place.

“Who works every day beneath 2,000 feet of granite for God’s sake?” Warner had asked his assigned MP escort.

The MP replied simply, “About 1,500, sir.”

“Well, why don’t you start with what you have, and then I can ask my questions about imaging,” Warner said, feeling like he was regaining his composure.

“Okay, that’s fine,” Scheckter said. “Earlier this morning, while processing yesterday’s space surveillance network data, one of our Space Control specialists noted a small object floating adjacent to Columbia’s left wing. The data shows it appearing initially at 3:57 P.M. yesterday, ah, which would be—correct me if I’m wrong—Columbia flight day three.”

“You what? You found what?” Warner demanded. “An object entered the box and you’re just calling me now?”

With cool precision Scheckter responded, “I never said it entered the box. I said it appeared next to the wing. Prior to 3:57 P.M. it did not exist. Actually, we were wondering if maybe you lost something out of the payload bay, perhaps a tool, a panel, or a part of something…”

Warner’s mind was spooling up, gaining speed, searching for clarity. His ears were still taking in what was being said; he was listening, barely, his brain busy with other tasks. “No, nothing came out of the payload bay, no reports of anything from the crew—I mean they haven’t been out there—no space walks. I mean, it’s possible something could have come loose at launch but…” Warner was working his algorithms. “Tell me again, how big does an object have to be for space surveillance to see it?”

“Greater than ten centimeters across,” Scheckter replied flatly.

“Ten centimeters,” Warner repeated, stretching out his middle finger away from his thumb, picturing the size. And then it came rolling in. The size of the reported object, the proximity to the wing, photo engineers concerned about a left-wing debris strike, and the object just appearing next to the wing.

Warner felt the clarity of his thoughts growing; they were a churning storm poised to make landfall. “Oh God,” he mouthed. He was suddenly unable to make a sound.

“Didn’t you say you had some questions about imaging?” Scheckter asked, hoping to fill the silence.

And that question was the final missing piece for Warner. The imaging, he thought—the need to get satellite imaging of Columbia. The debris strike. The Mission Management Team meeting. Engineers scratching their heads—should we get satellite imaging or do a space walk?

Brown was right! Forget the imaging; get ’em out on the wing!

Warner screamed into the phone, “That floating object must be part of Columbia’s wing—it’s a wing fragment! Oh God, oh my God!”

Warner dropped the receiver on his desk.

Chapter 11

Columbia mid-deck, sleeping quarters

Orbit 45

Columbia Flight Day 4

Sunday, Jan. 19, 2003

AS USUAL, COLUMBIA’S COMMANDER, one of four astronauts comprising the Red Team, was the first to wake. Even while in space, soft-restrained in a rip-stop nylon bag, floating gently inside a horizontal bunk bed, he awoke before the alarm—the traditional musical wake-up call—the same as he did every day on Earth. Even amid the hazards of space, his body stayed the course, his biorhythms seemingly hard-wired from the factory.

He removed his eye covers and ear plugs, then switched on the low-power fluorescent light in his bunk compartment, squinting as the light flickered and sputtered, it too waking to full power. Then he checked his watch. The wake-up call from Mission Control was less than five minutes away. He held perfectly still in his bag and closed his eyes. He could hear a few muffled sounds from the Blue Team, who were finishing their shift, but he put those out of his mind. Instead, he focused on the sensation of weightlessness. Starting with his sock-clad feet and moving up toward his head, he let his mind sense each body part and how it felt to be floating. There was no pressure in any direction, no pulling or pushing, nothing binding or restricting. His only movement came from the shallow draw of his lungs, accompanied by the faint metronomic thrusts of his heart.

Columbia was floating too; with all engines off, she was resting. He had no perception of spacecraft movement; there were no bumps or jolts, no Earth bound associations he could use to detect movement.

Columbia had