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

with the Space Shuttle Program: fact sheets, NASA PDF files, all the space-related stories he had ever written, JPEG photos and MPEG4 videos. In a separate rigid case he kept his Daron-brand models he used while on camera to help demonstrate to his audience what he was talking about. One was of an orbiter that had working payload bay doors, the other a complete space shuttle stack.

“See your credentials, sir?” demanded the armed guard who appeared from somewhere behind Stangley.

“Ah, yes,” Stangley said, surprised by the increased security. He opened his tweed sport coat, exposing the CNN press credential that hung from his neck.

The guard grabbed a corner of the credential and pulled it away from Stangley’s chest, scrutinized the picture, looked again at Stangley, then said, “Thank you, Mr. Stangley. We’re checking all photo IDs closely. Ultra-high-profile mission, post-9/11 and all. Thank you for your understanding.” The guard turned to walk away, then stopped to add, “The rest of the CNN crew is already in the OPF, ah, just inside the main entrance of OPF 1.”

“Thank you,” Stangley replied. He felt so nervous and so excited. It had been over five years since he had been in the OPF and so the chance for him to see it again now, especially during the prepping of an orbiter for a rescue mission, was incredible.

There was a palpable difference throughout the center in the way personnel were acting. Stangley had noticed this difference well before the turnoff for the visitor center, which was many miles back from where he had parked his car. He had seen new signs along the road, posted just in the last two days, informing the public about the added security and restrictions in effect. The new signage began well before the Astronaut Hall of Fame on SR 405.

Bus tours from the Visitor Center onto the actual grounds of the KSC, normally scheduled to run every 15 minutes between the hours of 10 A.M. and 2:15 P.M., had been canceled until after the launch of Atlantis. The crowds still came to the Visitor Center, though—more than ever before. Even with the bus tours canceled, the visitor center had been filling to capacity by 10:15 A.M. every day.

Stangley thought that maybe even the smell of the ocean was somehow different. And as he added up all the changes he had observed so far in the past few days, there was one thing he knew for sure: NASA was in real trouble.

As Stangley walked from his car toward the Kennedy Space Center’s orbiter processing facility, loaded down with all the stuff he was carrying, he performed a self-test to see what he could remember about NASA’s OPF. It was a trait he liked least about himself, his recitation of information when he was alone. But it seemed to happen most when he was on NASA property—or as he thought of it, whenever he was on hallowed ground.

Rising up in front of him were the two main hangers, or high-bays, of the OPF, designated OPF 1 and OPF 2.

“Each high-bay measures just less than 30,000 square feet, and has ceilings of 95 feet,” Stangley said, just loud enough so he could hear himself speaking. He continued with his tour-guide cadence. “The ceilings of the high-bays easily accommodate the nearly 60-foot height of the orbiter’s vertical stabilizer. Wing span is slightly over 78 feet, and there is plenty of clearance. This allows the orbiters to be towed in directly, without fear of them contacting the building walls.

“In between,” Stangley continued, as he readjusted his load, “and open to OPF 1 and OPF 2, is a low-bay hanger that measures over 23,000 square feet. The low-bay is used to process payloads such as satellites. When a payload is ready, it is moved from the low-bay into the high-bay to be installed into the appropriate orbiter’s payload bay.

“Adjacent to OPF 1 and OPF 2 and across a service road is OPF 3, a stand-alone high-bay facility that measures 50,000 square feet. The three high-bays of the OPF are used to service NASA’s four remaining orbiters: Columbia, Atlantis, Discovery and Endeavor.

“Well, soon they’ll have only three to service,” Stangley said in a louder voice, and he realized he had broken from his recitation. “Rescue or not, Columbia won’t be coming home.”

Chapter 30

Kennedy Space Center, Florida

Orbiter Processing Facility

SHE WAS STILL, nestled safe inside her home. The brave warrior known as Atlantis was being readied for a rescue mission.

Ground crews had been working around the clock in three shifts, pampering and fussing over her like she was a Rose Bowl float with three days left before the parade. Powerful jacks held her steady, suspending her a full 10 feet over the OPF floor. Her nose and landing gear were fully retracted and stowed, her belly smooth—but she wasn’t flying, she was resting.

All around her were platforms and catwalks and a bewildering array of purpose-built machinery. The OPF served as a showcase of everything America knew about going into space. Stairs led up and down between five levels. Thousands of feet of pipe twisted and turned between levels, forming a complex plumbing network, transporting exactly what, Stangley was not sure. The floor of the OPF was covered with several different materials, including textured, color-coded linoleum; non-slip rubber matting; and removable diamond-plate-embossed aluminum panels screwed down tight.

Visible at the ceiling were steel rails connected to the building’s superstructure. Payload-bay cranes ran on these rails and were capable of moving heavy equipment on and off the platforms, the equivalent weight of whole satellites in and out of an orbiter’s payload bay.

Looking upward from the ground floor, Stangley saw only Atlantis’s belly and wing tiles, smooth and flush, all 32,000, numbered and cataloged. He assumed that tiles that were damaged during STS-112, her last mission, had already been painstakingly replaced. The rest of Atlantis was hidden from view by