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

what to do, that maybe there was at least one more good mile of track before this train jumped its rail.

“Now, the Tiger Team members and I know you will likely have questions, concerns, and possibly differing opinions,” Senca said. “We welcome your scrutiny and feel it’s necessary; but please understand we won’t have time for long debates about our procedures.

“I’m going to go through the things we can’t do for Columbia first, and I know that may seem backwards to some of you. But bear with me, because I think it will help open your minds for when it comes time to tell you what we can do, what we must do for the crew.

“As we all saw in the video, Columbia has sustained catastrophic wing damage. When the team began preparing for contingencies, preparing for a worst-case scenario, we entertained the possibility that if the wing were damaged, it might be repairable in space, or at least modifiable in such a way as to support a crew bailout. Having now seen the size of the hole—the amount of wing damage—it’s obvious that no effective wing repair effort could be performed in space with the crew’s limited resources—especially when you consider that for a bailout, Columbia would have to slow to subsonic speeds, and descend to an altitude below 35,000 feet. Anything higher or faster than that, as you know, and we risk astronaut escape-pole failure, flail injuries and spacesuit and/or parachute failures. It’s unlikely we could repair the wing well enough to keep it from disintegrating and in turn the orbiter from breaking up. So repairing the wing in space is out, we feel, and therefore crew bailout is out.

“The next thing we looked at was using the ISS [International Space Station] as a possible safe haven. Unfortunately, that option is dead, as well, and here’s why: Since Columbia’s inclination to orbit is 39 degrees, and the ISS is at 51.6 degrees, a translational OMS burn [Columbia’s Orbiter Maneuvering System] would be required at a rate of 12,600-feet-per-second to effect a rendezvous with the Space Station. Columbia has only enough propellant for a 448-feet-per-second burn, making rendezvous with the ISS impossible. They simply can’t catch the station.”

The conference room was quiet, with hardly a stir. And so far, there had been no objections to Senca’s analysis. He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and put a few seconds between what the roomful of engineers knew now and what they were about to hear.

“The only option for the crew of Columbia, the only chance they have for a return to Earth, is if we go get them,” Senca said, pausing to let his words take hold.

Pollard, still serving as the Mission Management Team Chair, sat taller now, and in doing so, caught Senca’s attention. They exchanged a subtle nod; they had an understanding. What Pollard had suggested to the group just two days ago with the single word “RESCUE” she had written on the white-board—which at the time had seemed like such an overstatement, a pessimistic view almost of Columbia’s situation—was now in fact the crew’s only option, NASA’s only option.

Thousands of NASA personnel would be required to execute the Tiger Team’s plan. Software would have to be rewritten and calculations made. Three shifts of ground crew would work round the clock. The whole process of assembling a rocket ship, getting the astronauts sufficiently trained, launching in time—all without making any mistakes—well, it had never been done before.

Every step in the preparation to launch would have to be shortened, rushed. NASA would have to expose another orbiter and crew to potentially the same damage Columbia had sustained. There would be no time to make changes or upgrades to the external tank.

Who ever heard of such a thing?

Rescue was the only option. For the crew to survive, they would have to be rescued.

Senca listened to the crowded room of engineers. He realized he’d been thinking about crew options for 48 hours. These engineers needed time to process the information he’d given them. So he sat back on the conference table quietly and waited.

Chapter 21

On Columbia

“COLUMBIA, HOUSTON FOR THE CREW,” the CapCom said.

“Read you loud and clear, Jim. What have you got for us?”

“Well, we just saw your EVA video—there’s a lot of disbelief around here, I gotta tell you.

“Yeah, it’s hard for us to watch, as well.”

“I know your minds are racing right now. But you need to hang tight. We’re in this with you, and we’re all gonna take it one step at a time.”

Warner had met with Jim Hadley, Columbia’s CapCom, and explained that information given to the crew was on a need-to-know basis only. With that in mind, Hadley did what he could to assure the crew that NASA actually knew what to do in this situation. Communicating with astronauts in space had always been a smooth process for him—he felt like he was good at it. But this problem with the wing, this rescue mission, was going to be a lot bigger than anything he had ever worked a crew through before. There was no way NASA was going to replace Hadley with someone more experienced though, not now—not right after a crew discovers their spaceship is irreparable. Nothing would scream, “You’re in a world of shit” louder than that.

“We have a Group C system power-down procedure for you. We need you to start conserving consumables ASAP.”

“Copy that, Houston.”

“I’m gonna take you through each item step by step…”

When Columbia’s crew heard “Group C” power-down, they knew their mission was over, at least from a research standpoint. All power to the payload equipment would be turned off and all experiments would be stopped. The data downlink to the ground would be terminated, the KU-band antenna stowed. Columbia’s power would essentially be cut in half, reducing the average mission power level to just 9.4 kilowatts.

Performing the Group