Riding Rockets

But after a short delay the CAPCOM came back with the original ho-hum assessment of “It’s not a problem.”

We all looked at one another in disbelief. Are they blind? Did they think the white streaks were seagull shit? It was obvious to us that we had taken a very bad hit. Maybe the image that was arriving on the MCC monitors was of poorer quality than what we were seeing. I tried to sharpen the image but was no more successful than Hoot had been.

Hoot tried again to convey the seriousness of what we were seeing and, again, MCC casually dismissed his concerns. We were in the Twilight Zone.Who is this speaking to us and what have you done with the real MCC? Maybe, I thought, MCC did know we had suffered major damage and were hiding that fact from us. There was precedence for that. On John Glenn’s Mercury mission the MCC had an instrument indication that his heat shield had come loose from his capsule, but they kept the information from him. Since there was absolutely nothing he could do about a loose heat shield, and, if it was loose, he was going to die, they reasoned there was no reason to tell him the truth. Without giving him an explanation, they had instructed Glenn not to jettison his retrorocket pack in hopes its retention would help keep a loose heat shield in place. It turned out there had been nothing wrong with the heat-shield attachment and Glenn was angry with MCC for withholding information from him. Could MCC be hiding a deadly situation from us? I couldn’t believe that. The MCC never gave up. If they suspected we had a serious problem, they would be pulling out every stop to get us home. It would beApollo 13 all over again. Their dismissive attitude must mean they believed we were okay. But I was going to be really suspicious if tomorrow’s wake-up music was “Nearer, My God, to Thee” and there was a teleprinter message saying we didn’t have to eat our broccoli.

Hoot set the mic aside, obviously frustrated and angry. No matter what MCC was seeing on their TVs, he felt they weren’t seriously considering whatwe were seeing. At the moment I was glad our mission was classified. The public and press had not heard any of our discussion. Unless one of the family escorts told the wives of our problem they would not know about it. I prayed that was the case. There was nothing they could do and they didn’t need the extra anxiety.

I couldn’t sleep and floated upstairs to watch the sights. The autopilot was holding the shuttle’s belly to the Sun, courtesy of our tire leak, so I had to move from window to window to get the best view. I was annoyed at the inconvenience…until our unique attitude served up a space sight I had never seen before. I was looking through the overhead windows in a direction that was precisely “down”-Sun when the upward-pointing attitude control thrusters fired. As their effluent of billions of ice crystals blossomed above the orbiter, a perfect shadow ofAtlantis appeared and was carried into infinity at hundreds of miles per hour. The strikingly beautiful sight reminded me of Captain Kirk’sStarship Enterprise dashing into warp speed. I kept staring, hoping the display would repeat but it did not. The Sun dipped below the horizon andAtlantis was plunged into preternatural darkness. But there was one certainty about orbit flight: the passing of one incredible space sight only meant the arrival of another. My eyes were drawn to the lime green curtain of an aurora borealis waving over the Arctic Ocean far to the north. It brightened and dimmed as the rain of magnetic particles from the Sun varied in intensity. I was still staring at this phenomenon when the long streak of a shooting star brought my mind back to our heat-shield problem. In just a few hours that would beAtlantis …a shooting star blazing across the Pacific with a tail of ionized gas a thousand miles long. We were locked in an aluminum machine that would melt at 1,000 degrees. On reentry the belly tiles would be subjected to 2,000 degrees. The nose and leading edge of the wings would see even hotter temperatures. Just a couple inches of silica and carbon fiber were all that protected us from immolation, and our camera survey had shown some of those inches had been ripped away. The heat would definitely be getting closer to that aluminum. And what about the missing tile? Could the wind use the cavity it created to grab the edge of adjacent tiles and strip even more off, just like roof shingles being sequentially stripped in a hurricane? Engineers had always assured us that was not possible, but then I was certain the SRB nose cone engineers would have assured us their work could not fail either.