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

of his skin, eager to get to the important part. With all his years at NASA, all his experience using computers to extract the truth from his videos, he was left powerless with this one. A video camera gray-taped to an astronaut’s head. This was the best we could do? It was, in fact, and NASA was lucky to have it.

The very first reactions were gasps—nothing much else, just gasps. There was shock too; but those who were shocked were choked into silence.

By now the camera’s white-balance had adjusted to the bright lights of Steve’s helmet. All those with eyes trained on the monitors at Mission Control expected to get their first look at Columbia’s wing, but instead got their first look into Columbia’s wing. They saw what had been described to them by Steve just hours earlier. The A-286 stainless-steel two-piece spar attachment fittings, specially designed brackets that allowed the RCC panels to be attached to the aluminum wing frame, were in fact gleaming in the glow of Steve’s four helmet lights. This was bad. Reactions were slowly building; the engineers began to verbalize what they were thinking. Then the room suddenly fell silent again. The video had shown a close-up shot of the wing damage, without reference. But now the video showed Steve’s hand adjacent to the wing damage on the edge of a remaining RCC panel. His oversized, gloved-hand was dwarfed by the extensive wing damage.

The video would not have to be replayed for its meaning to take hold. Brown and his photo guys wouldn’t have to watch it repeatedly, scavenging for clues, or run it through a computer to enhance the color or the image quality. NASA’s question about Columbia’s wing damage had definitively been answered.

The engineers at Mission Control Center, particularly the structural engineers, were acutely aware of the implications of the wing damage. Their conclusions were all in sync.

Columbia’s left wing, with nearly three RCC panels missing, was clearly incapable of supporting a return flight. This conclusion was drawn not from laborious calculations or intense consideration, but rather from a basic understanding of the orbiter wing’s fundamental design elements.

The internal structures give strength and shape to the wing. The external structures shield the internal parts from extreme heat.

The outside temperature during reentry can reach 2,500 degrees.

Internal wing components hewn from aluminum melt at only 1,200 degrees.

Chapter 19

Johnson Space Center, Houston

Mission Control Center

JOSEPH SENCA WAS STANDING in the main aisle of the Mission Control Center when the sound of Warner’s voice came roaring, announcing itself like a thunderclap. Warner was yelling, demanding answers.

Senca was only 20 feet away, but he and Warner were separated by more than 50 people. Senca began snaking toward the flight director’s console immediately upon hearing his name, passing through the crowd of engineers who were struggling to be heard; each was certain his or her perspective on the problem was the right one.

But Senca knew he and his Tiger Team had the answers—they had spent the past 48 hours working the problem and, of course, second-guessing themselves before finally agreeing again.

Senca was brimming with nervous excitement as he approached the console. This problem with Columbia, Senca thought, was far bigger than most realized. But Senca was ready—ready to plant the flag on the summit of this, the pinnacle of his career.

“Where is the Tiger Team on this?” Warner demanded.

“We need to get Columbia powered down immediately,” Senca said, approaching the Flight Director’s console. “Not soon, but right now.”

Senca wasn’t the senior-most person in the room; but everyone knew that he, along with his Tiger Team, had been assessing Columbia’s in-flight options. Members of the Tiger Team were the only ones who had any idea about what could be done to save the crew of Columbia.

“All right, save your long-winded details for your presentation to the Mission Management Team. Just tell me the first step—what do we need to do first?” Warner asked, trusting that Senca knew the way.

“Power down Columbia now!” Senca exclaimed. “That is the first critical step.”

“Okay, give me the procedures and we’ll get it started.”

Senca reached into his briefcase and pulled out a sheaf of papers—the Tiger Team’s seven-page checklist for Columbia’s power-down. He began to hand it to Warner, then hesitated. “I haven’t even presented this to the Mission Management Team yet… you know the chain of command and all that.”

“It’s not like they’re going to say no to it. We’ll start this right now,” Warner said, glancing at the first page.

Senca hesitated still. “I guess if it were me up there, I’d want you to get started immediately, too, but… ah screw it, start the power-down… and good luck with the crew. Tell them we’ll give them all the info in a few hours or so. I’ll be in the Mission Management Meeting if you need me,” Senca said, walking backwards away from Warner’s console.

Warner immediately began yelling again. “Get to your consoles. We’re doing a Group C power-down,” he said. “I want everyone watching their monitors as we start the power-down.”

Chapter 20

Johnson Space Center, Houston

Mission Management Team Meeting

Flight Day 5

Monday, Jan. 20, 2003

“THE MOST IMPORTANT FIRST STEP is to power down Columbia. Without a power-down we have no options,” Joseph Senca stressed to the Mission Management Team and the hundred-plus engineers who packed the large conference room at the Johnson Space Center. “And we need to do it now, right now, not even 30 minutes from now. So I’ve given the power-down procedures to Warner, and he’s going to get them started.”

The Mission Management Team was listening to Senca intently, and sensed he was aware he had stepped out of bounds, but not one of them uttered a single complaint. They collectively were grateful, actually, that someone seemed to know