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

Warner paused to clarify what he was looking at. “This is of RCC panels one through five of the left wing.”

“Okay, now wait, Allan, what are you using for reference—how do you know it’s the left wing?” Brown stood up quickly from his office chair with the receiver pressed to his ear, frustrated by not being able to see the images himself. The latest hot spear of back pain hardly registered.

“I’m using the numbers.”

“What numbers, Allan? For Christ’s sake,” Ken shouted back.

“The numbers on the panels. Aren’t they numbered one-L, two-L, and three-L, for one-left, two-left and so on?”

“Yes. Wait, you can read the numbers on the RCC panels?”

“I’m telling you, Ken, the resolution is incredible.”

“My God.” Brown simply couldn’t believe it. How could such a satellite exist, and where the hell was it when he and his engineers first became concerned about Columbia’s wing damage three weeks ago? Those questions would have to be answered later.

“All right then, Allan, you’re gonna need to find close-ups for each section of both wings so we can clear them for damage.” Brown wedged the phone between his fleshy cheek and shoulder, then whipped open a file drawer on the right side of his desk. He quickly thumbed through his Pendaflex file folders and found his NASA line art drawings showing generic orbiters from various perspectives. Brown had printed out ten or so sheets of each view for just this kind of occasion. From his sheaf of drawings he selected a view that showed the orbiter’s heat shield and 22 RCC panels per wing. With a pencil he quickly numbered the RCC panels. Starting with the numeral one where the wing met the fuselage, he continued on around the contour of the wing, numbering each section until he reached 22. Then he shaded in panels he and Warner had already cleared.

“Once we’re done with the RCC panels,” he said to Warner, “we’ll need to check Atlantis’s belly. Make sure the tiles there didn’t sustain any damage.”

Warner glanced down at the thumbnails along the bottom of his screen. “You’re keeping track as we go along, right?”

“Got a sheet right in front of me.”

“Okay, Walker’s sent me some thumbnail images of Atlantis’s belly. We’ll get to those in a second, as soon as we clear all forty-four RCC panels.”

Chapter 57

BROWN TOOK CAREFUL NOTES during his conversation with Warner, marking off each section of Atlantis’s heat shield effectively cleared by the high-resolution satellite images. So far, Brown’s drawing indicated that the leading edges of both wings appeared to be intact. Brown felt some relief in this finding, but knew he and Warner still had a lot of photos to examine. It was far too early to celebrate the safe arrival of Atlantis on orbit, too early to issue a green light.

“The next image appears to be…,” Warner trailed off. “I guess it’s Atlantis’s belly. I can’t be sure because the shot is so tight.”

“Can you read the tile’s code?” Brown asked. Brown was asking if Warner could read the yellow alphanumeric identification code that could be found on the outside of each tile. Letters and numbers that made up the unique code were marked with a special heat-resistant paint called Spearex, and could be easily read with the naked eye. The code told engineers the unique characteristics of each tile, including thickness, insulative properties, and tile location.

“Yes, yes I can, quite clearly,” Warner responded.

“The software keeps track of the images,” Walker interrupted in a monotone, still pretending he wasn’t listening in.

Warner looked up from his computer. “Hold on a minute, Ken,” he said into the phone.

“Excuse me?” Warner asked Walker.

“The satellite imaging software keeps track of the images,” Walker repeated. “Can you find image 000823?”

“Yes, I see it.”

“Alright, double-click that image. It’s a view of the underside of the entire left wing, zoomed out just far enough to capture the entire wing.”

“Okay, Ken, Walker’s got me looking at the underside of the left wing. The image is pulled out far enough for me to see the wing contour. It’s definitely the left wing.”

“Allan, do you see any white marks or streaks of any kind?”

“Uh, hold on now,” Warner said, then swallowed hard. He quickly scanned the image. “Ken, there are white spots all over the place.”

Brown tried to stay calm. Every shuttle flight that had ever flown had returned home with modest tile damage. Was Warner seeing the typical tile assault that occurred during launch, or was this damage more serious? “Allan, we need to focus on the whitest areas, places where there is the greatest disruption in the black tile color.”

“Okay,” Warner said, hesitating.

“Now, if you click any part of 000823,” Walker interrupted again, “a five-stage zoom slider will appear.”

It was now abundantly clear to Warner that Walker had indeed been listening to both sides of the phone conversation. Warner moved the track pad arrow over to a section of the image that looked particularly bad, showing the heaviest concentration of white spots, and clicked. With a few more clicks and adjustments, he’d found what he guessed was about a 1-foot-square section of tiles.

“Okay Ken, my image area is four tiles.”

Brown knew that each tile affixed to the orbiter’s skin was unique to its location in terms of exact size, shape, thickness, contour and thermal properties. Generally, the tiles along the flat bottom of Atlantis were 6 by 6 inches in size.

“I’m looking at a large gouge,” Warner said. “Definitely full thickness. Looks like a coconut that’s been cracked open, dark on the outside, fresh, brilliant-white meat on the inside.”

Brown paced. “Any idea where on the belly you’re looking, Allan?”

Warner backed the image out using the slider. “Yes, it’s between the belly centerline and the left main landing-gear door.”

“You’re sure it’s not on the door itself, right?”

“Yes, it’s not on the door at all.”

“Okay, good. Is the damaged tile’s ID code intact?”

“Appears to be intact, yes,”