Launch on Need Daniel Guiteras (interesting books to read .TXT) 📖

have no way to fix the tiles, no other orbiter ready to go up. That means it’s all Atlantis.”

“An educated guess is what I’m looking for, something that tells us it’s reasonable to assume the heat shield will hold despite the damage. What does our collective knowledge base tell us?” Pollard pressed, then stopped for a second. She heard again Ken Brown’s directive: “Prove she’s safe to fly.” Pollard knew now there was no way to prove a safe ride home on Atlantis. “Is she safe to fly?” Pollard asked. “That’s what we need to know.”

“My answer is yes, then,” Altin responded reluctantly. “Yes, it’s reasonable to assume the heat shield will hold, yes, it’s reasonable to assume it might not—and, yes, neither we here on the ground nor the astronauts up there have any choice but to go for it. Obviously, we recommend the shallowest possible angle for reentry, combined with a gentle back-and-forth flight path.”

Pollard surveyed the team to make sure they were in agreement. Senca, too, nodded his approval. “Thanks guys,” she said, and turned to leave.

“Julie,” Altin called at her back.

She stopped and looked back.

“Do we tell ’em?”

“About the damage?” Pollard said, as if surprised by the question.

“Right. Do we tell the crew?”

“No need to,” Pollard answered. “We’ll uplink the flight-path changes, tell them it’s just a software update.”

Altin nodded. Pollard glanced at Senca, offered a brusque smile to the group, then left the conference room.

Chapter 62

On Atlantis

“FIFTY-FIVE FEET NOW, Houston. We have a good visualization of Columbia. I can see a lot of activity in the flight deck windows.”

Columbia loomed upside down above Atlantis, with her payload bay doors open and vertical stabilizer pointing down at Earth.

“You can see the crew through the windows?” Atlantis’s Cap-Com asked enthusiastically.

“Well, no, Houston. Actually, it looks like someone is holding up a sign… give me a minute, let us drift in a little closer here,” Avery said, laughing over the comm channel. “Okay Houston, the crew is holding up a sign that reads ‘Earth or bust.’ ”

“Roger that, Atlantis. Good to hear they haven’t lost their sense of humor.”

Avery’s gaze was locked on the growing image of Columbia before her. Columbia was dead on target, centered perfectly in the crew optical alignment sight (COAS) mounted to Atlantis’s overhead windows. She watched for changes in her spaceship’s alignment to target, while with her right hand she manipulated the rotational hand controller (RHC), a joystick used to control Atlantis’s position in space in the three planes of pitch, roll and yaw. Atlantis’s Reaction Control System thrusters responded to Avery’s controller inputs by firing into the blackness of space.

“Atlantis, Houston for Ed. Do you foresee a need for an extra hold at forty feet? We’re gonna need you to fly out any rotational or position errors with respect to Columbia before you close for rendezvous station, over.”

“Ah, that’s a negative, Houston, we’re lined up right now. Columbia’s directly above us. Avery’s got us right on the money. She can take us all the way in with our current alignment, over.”

“Roger that, way to go, Avery.”

Atlantis continued to creep in toward Columbia at a rate of 6 inches per minute.

“Houston for Avery. Remember, we’re holding at thirty feet for clocking.”

“Roger, hold at thirty.”

“Columbia, Houston, what’s the status of your EVA prep?”

“Houston, we’re nearly ready. Less than one hour left on the pre-breathe.”

“Copy that, Columbia. We plan to send Garrett and Mullen over to you ASAP. Need to get Atlantis set first, then perform a few housekeeping activities.”

“Roger Houston, Columbia standing by.”

Garrett and Mullen had been listening in on the same comm channel with Columbia and Mission Control. “Houston, Garrett and Mullen standing by for PBD opening.”

Watching the radar data from an Atlantis flight-deck computer screen, Rivas called out the last few feet to target for Avery, Mission Control, the crew of Columbia—and those watching live TV throughout the world.

“Thirty-six… thirty-five… thirty-four… thirty-three… thirty-two… thirty-one… Houston, three-zero feet and holding, the cavalry has arrived.”

“Roger, we copy, Atlantis. Hold at three-zero feet.”

Avery was conscious of history being made. As Columbia loomed in the windows overhead, she also knew she was the first commander in shuttle history to see this incredible view.

“Houston, Commander Dana Avery reporting from the flight deck of Atlantis. I have the smiling faces of Columbia in sight.”

Chapter 63

Johnson Space Center, Houston

Press Room

STANGLEY FORCED a hard swallow, hoping the reflexive movement would reset the muscles of his throat, freeing him to speak again.

“We’re breaking right now for a statement from Pollard,” the producer said into Stangley’s earpiece. “Take us out!”

“Ah, we’re going to break away now to a live press statement from NASA,” Stangley said. “Julie Pollard, Columbia’s mission manager, is ready with the latest rescue mission update.”

Stangley waited for the red light above his camera to go out. Then he quickly pulled out his earpiece and got up from the news desk. “What tile damage?” Stangley demanded of his producer. “What happened to Atlantis?”

“Shhh,” she said, and motioned him over to a monitor showing a live feed of Pollard, who’d just taken the podium in front of a small gathering of reporters at Mission Control.

“Shit, she doesn’t look good,” Stangley said. “She looks tired and worried.”

Pollard adjusted the microphone, then began.

On Atlantis

“ATLANTIS, HOUSTON, you’re go for clocking.”

“Roger, go for clocking,” Avery replied.

Avery was ready for the clocking maneuver, had practiced it what seemed like a thousand times in the simulator, and she was eager to get Atlantis into position so the transfer of Columbia’s crew could begin.

Avery adjusted herself in her seat before grasping Atlantis’s rotational hand controller. There were two critical tasks to complete with respect to flying her spacecraft. The first was to rotate Atlantis 90 degrees in relation to Columbia’s current position, a maneuver best explained