4. Main Engine Start
FOUR
MAIN ENGINE START
Jackie
“This was supposed to be a normal maintenance EVA.” He clicks his keyboard hard and the slide changes. “And now we are dealing with this.”
Jules did a good job of focusing in on the bundle of wires running up one of the main panels.
Astronauts on EVAs wear special gloves, attached to their space suits.
The primary focus of the gloves and suit is to protect astronauts from the pressure and conditions of space.
That means bulk. Taking detailed pictures in a giant marshmallow suit is hard work, but Jules has done it and done it well.
Small holes can be seen on some of the wires, and one looks so bent that it could be a moment from snapping.
That means a meteorite or a piece of space junk hit the ISS.
NASA monitors the orbits of thousands of larger pieces of space junk floating around in the Earth’s orbit.
Some of it is man-made—pieces of satellite, tools dropped by astronauts during space walks, and leftover debris from Star Wars tests in space.
Then there are natural particles—meteorites.
Small meteorites can travel faster than a bullet.
Sean looks around the room. “We knew that EXT-1 was starting to give failures and the thrusters were hit or miss on taking commands, so we switched all power to EXT-2. Unfortunately, during the spacewalk, Astronaut Starr discovered that the fix was not as simple as powering cycling.”
The EXT-MDMs are the external computers set up on the truss of the ISS which control the functionality of station components such as the solar arrays, radiators, cooling loops and other systems.
Ian speaks up. “EXT-2 is running without problems?”
“Yes. EXT-2 is in full working order. That’s why we’re not talking evacuation. We have the CHRONUS group monitoring them.” Sean shifts through more slides and shakes his head. “The station simply got hit in a bad spot.”
The ISS is as large as a football field.
And though, in the beginning, a lot of wires had been exposed and running along the exterior of the station, most of them, especially on the US side, have been moved internally.
Computer failure due to a space junk hit is relatively low on the probability scale.
And in the grand scheme of things, hitting wires isn’t as bad as if the space junk had hit a window or penetrated the hull.
But this is still bad. Not life threatening. At least not yet.
Sean flips to another picture. It shows a small section of thickly insulated wires on the exterior of the ISS.
“Does ADCO anticipate the need for any complicated maneuvers anytime soon?” I ask.
“They’ve conferred with TOPO and Space Command and say we are clear for the foreseeable future. The Russians are also helping,” Sean answers.
Attitude Determination and Control Office manages the station’s orientation and calculates any needed maneuvers to avoid large debris.
I’ve worked with them a few times during EVA planning.
Trajectory Operations Officer and Space Command are responsible for the station trajectory and maintaining data regarding the station’s orbital position.
Another click on Sean’s computer. “You can see by Starr’s photos that what we think was a tiny meteorite, too small to be picked up by TOPO, hit the space station here.
” He points to the center of the screen, where damage to the wires seems localized.
“This small section is only about 12 inches long, but there are leads to the US computers in this bundle. We have an old EXT on board the station. We’ll get the crew working on refurbishing it with the parts available so we can swap it out with the damaged one.
” Sean looks to Ian and me. “The next spacewalk’s primary task will be the removal and replacement of a data relay box.
In the meantime, the EXT-2 is operational and all ISS components are in working order. ”
Ian and I look at each other, then nod.
“Listen,” Sean continues, speaking to the room at large now, “I know the EXTs are crucial, vital even to sustaining life on the ISS, but we’re still good.
We still have an operational computer, six of the smartest astronauts with degrees in shit I can’t even pronounce, an old computer we can install and we always have the option to depart.
But discussion on that is a few failures away. ”
The Soyuz “lifeboat” is always docked to the station. If needed, the astronauts can evacuate inside the Russian capsule and clear the station in the event of an emergency. At the moment, we have a few critical failures, but NASA always has more than one fail-safe.
We should be good.
For the next few hours it’s nothing but blueprints, slide shows and conferences with different departments. The Russians are on the telecom, calling in from their flight control room in Moscow.
Among all this, Rose has texted me quite a few times.
How she knows about Flynn giving me a ride, or my hot co-worker Ian, I have no clue. For someone so young and sweet looking, she’s kind of scary.
My eyes keep drying up. Sealed and secured government buildings are known for their dry, recycled air. It’s like working on an airplane. It also doesn’t help that I’ve had a long day. After a long night. And I hate coffee.
Sean doesn’t have that problem. He pours himself another cup.
I’ve lost track of how many he’s had, but the pot has been refilled more than once.
“Look, a usual EVA takes weeks to plan, if not months. So I know this is a lot to cram in, but let’s not rush and make mistakes.
The astronauts are sleeping at the moment.
Let’s reconvene early tomorrow and get them in on the discussion as well.
” He gets up and stretches. I can hear his bones creaking from across the room.
“For now, we continue with the plan to load The Progress up with replacement software when it launches to resupply the station in two weeks.”
Despite what a lot of movies or books say, you can’t just tell an astronaut to suit up and head out the air lock into open space.
Suits have to be charged and oxygen tanks hooked up.
Space walks need planning and engineering teams need to be consulted.
Ten days is about the fastest a spacewalk could be safely scheduled.
At NASA, no one messes with safety procedures.
I’m walking again.
And though it’s dark outside, it’s still hot. I didn’t feel right asking Ian for a ride home. He sat next to me the entire meeting and brainstorming session. That’s normal, but it didn’t feel normal. Not since the Flynn and Ian stare down.
I jump up over a curb and run my hand along the twelve-foot-high chain fence, topped with barbed wire, that marks the perimeter of NASA.
There are only two exits and entrances to the site.
One on the east side, and one on the west. My apartment is west, so I’m walking my way back to the security entrance by badging.
I take a left onto the road by the security huts, hitting the sidewalk. The guards are busy with cars coming and going. NASA never sleeps.
“Yo.”
I stop mid-step. It can’t be . Slowly, I let my foot drop to the pavement and pivot, the worn bottoms of my Converse smoothly making the turn.
But it is. Flynn is leaning against a car, his arms crossed.
This isn’t the car from this morning. This one is green, but just as badass.
More badass, really. Bigger. It’s another vintage car, and I recognize the Mustang emblem on the front.
That much I know. Though the BOSS 429 inscription on the side means nothing to me.
It isn’t even running. No growl to set off my tingles. And yet my downtown is wide awake just looking at it. Who knew I had a thing for cars?
I walk over to him. “What are you doing here?”
He straightens up beside the car. “I heard from a little birdie that you were gonna walk home.” He saunters forward, erasing the distance between us. “At night.”
“Rose,” I sigh. She’s continued to text me throughout the day, wanting updates on when I’d be finished working. I should’ve known she had ulterior motives.
“Yep.”
“Listen,” I start, trying to find the courage to look into his eyes and failing. “It was really nice of you to drive down here,” I tell his shoulder. “But I’m a big girl. I can walk a couple miles to my place.”
“Uh huh.” He points to the tingle-inducing car. “Get in.”
His brisk attitude finally draws my gaze to his. “Excuse me?”
We have a bit of a stare down until he breaks eye contact to run his hand through his hair, clearly exasperated with me. “I’m sorry I was such an asshole earlier, okay?”
When I still don’t move, this time from speechlessness, he sticks his hand out in the direction of the car and jiggles the keys. “Please?”
“Fine.” I wave my hand in acquiescence and accidentally hit his outstretched arm. The car keys fly out of his hand.
And down a storm drain.
“That didn’t just happen.” I look from the grate to Flynn then back again. “That can’t have just happened.”
Flynn tilts his face up to the sky and sighs.
There is a beat of silence before I go into fix-it mode. “I’ll call Triple A,” I say, fishing in my bag for my phone.
Flynn lowers his chin back down and cocks an eyebrow, watching me rummage through my purse. “If you were going to walk home, your phone should’ve already been in your hand. In case something was to happen.”
“You mean like a disgruntled man lying in wait for me in the parking lot?” I ask.
Flynn surprises me by barking out a short laugh. “Disgruntled,” he snorts. “Yeah, that about sums me up.” Then he smiles, like really smiles.