19. Final Countdown #2
The large screens in Mission Control show various images of the interior and exterior of the ISS, and now include a countdown to the estimated impact of debris.
Jules and Bodie have had time to properly depressurize.
I catch something flashing out of the corner of my eye.
My phone screen is lit up with a text message notification.
“You guys are good to move to the hatch,” Sean instructs the astronauts, speaking into his head set.
“Houston, on our way,” Jules replies.
Jules might be a space cowgirl, but when it comes to the job, she’s all focus. She almost doesn’t sound like herself over the airwaves. Which is probably a good thing, as calling a flight director ‘hooker’ on national television isn’t the kind of PR NASA is going for these days.
All the eyes in the room are glued to the screen as Jules and Bodie work together to open the hatch and spin it back against the interior wall. I take the moment to pick up my phone.
Flynn: Good Luck, darling.
Seriously? He goes from making out with his Barbie doll ex to sending boyfriend-like texts to me in the span of a few hours. Maybe he has multiple personality disorder. Or maybe Rose is wrong—he is just like Brian and I can actually draw the conclusion that men don’t want the nerdy girls.
“EVA hatch is open and stowed.” Bodie’s deep voice comes through the speakers. “Switching suit power to battery mode.”
I put my phone down with more force than required and take a deep breath. Focus .
“Jackie?”
Ian waves me over to the EVA console.
I put blinders on my feelings about Flynn and hone in on Ian. “Yes?”
“Just wanted to show you the suit specs, and the battery and oxygen levels, so you have that in the back of your mind as we cowboy this spacewalk.”
“Cowboy?” I laugh softly, thinking of my romance novels and how Jules would love the comparison. “Thanks, Ian.”
He smiles and gives the command to close the depress valves.
“Depress valves closed,” Jules replies.
“Station, visors down,” an EVA flight controller instructs. Spacesuit visors are coated with a thin layer of gold. It helps filter out the sun’s harmful rays, which in June, at a beta period, is extremely important. The visor also protects the astronaut from extreme temperatures.
Jules and Bodie begin maneuvering to the Starboard Zero truss—on the space-facing side of the U.S.
Destiny lab. It’s the centerpiece of the station’s truss where solar rays, radiators and cooling loops are housed, as well as the EXT-MDMs. Luckily the airlock is right below it, so they don’t have far to go.
A camera is attached to Bodie’s helmet, giving everyone in Mission Control a hands-on view.
Next to the screen that feeds from Bodie’s camera is the countdown.
Four hours. It seems like a lot of time, but in space everything takes a lot longer, and when you have to factor in the extra hour needed after the spacewalk for decompression, every minute counts.
Jules and Bodie take their time, moving in tandem, making sure to lock the safety hooks on their tethers to the station as they go.
Astronauts always look like they’re moving in slow motion in the lack of gravity, but in reality, attached to the space station, they’re traveling at 17,150 miles per hour. That’s 1.76 miles per second.
What I’m asking Jules and Bodie to attempt is akin to having a surgeon perform open heart surgery wearing winter gloves while riding a roller coaster.
No pressure or anything.
By the time they’ve made their way to the Starboard Zero truss, I’m sitting down. The adrenaline that’s been pumping through my system since the sirens at Boondoggles is wearing off. Jules’ voice comes through the head set, forcing me to my feet again.
“Houston, EXTs are in reach.”
Bodie unhooks one of his tethers and pulls himself forward to tether it next to EXT-1.
Jules comes from the opposite side of the ISS truss and tethers between EXT-1 and EXT-2.
“Houston, we are in position,” Bodie relays.
“Station. Okay, guys, you need to look at the cable feeds following out away from EXT-1 and 2, the ones hit by the meteorite a few weeks ago,” I advise into the headset. “The exposed cable bundles were hit, but we need you to unscrew the panel that hides the rest of the cables.”
“Houston. Will do. Unloading pack now,” Jules says, starting the spacewalk procedure I wrote just an hour ago.
This part of a spacewalk is somewhat tedious.
Every time an astronaut makes a move they have to verbally announce it back to MCC, even though we can see them on screen from the cameras housed on their helmets.
And though they memorize each EVA’s unique procedure before suiting up, we send verbal commands to the astronauts for each step through their coms. It’s redundant, but protocol.
And since protocol has saved lives multiple times throughout NASA’s long and illustrious history, we don’t mess with it.
On the monitor, Jules retrieves the battery-operated drill from her pack and tethers it to her suit and slowly, so slowly, unscrews the panel next to the cable with charred and broken wires. The drill tip is magnetic, helping Jules maintain control. Even so, I see one screw float away.
“Shit.” Apparently, Jules forgot about the public broadcasting.
Ian and I both glance at each other, fighting smiles.
“Station. What was that, astronaut Starr? We couldn’t hear you down here.”
“Um, nothing, Houston. Just lost a screw. I have backups in my bag.”
Sean covers his mic and looks at Ian. “And that is why I always make sure astronauts pack their purse.”
A soft ripple of laughter flows through Mission Control, breaking the tension that has been ratcheting up since Jules and Bodie left the airlock.
“Houston, panel removed,” Jules narrates as she hands Bodie the large panel. Unable to tether the panel to their suits, Bodie braces his feet into the handrails of the truss of the station and uses his hands to hold the panel so it doesn’t fly away.
His light illuminates the wires under the panel. “Houston, the cable bundles are clean and intact.”
Thank heavens. I lose a shaky breath. “Station. Excellent. We are good to go with the hotwire.” I skim the schematics spread out over the table. “Station, I need you to de-mate the blind-mate connector on the back end of EXT-1, at the J1/P1 interface. Do you see them?”
“That’s a positive, Houston. I see them, and they are in reach,” Jules says.
“Okay, Station. Grab the P1 capped cable coming from RPC 4. There should be an open cavity to the right, where no box is connected. That is the connection you’re going to be using.”
“Houston, I see it.”
“You’re going to have to traverse above. Behind the open face there should be three cables. De-mate and uncap the J1/P1 connection there,” I instruct.
MCC is dead quiet as we all wait while Jules follows the commands. When she reaches the area, I ask, “Do you have enough length to move the uncapped cable to the EXT J1 connection?”
There’s a long pause. “No. It’s too tight,” Jules replies.
This time Sean curses.
Bodie turns his head toward the wires on the truss, lighting up the monitors with the image. “Wait, Houston, there are zip ties routing the cable bundle along the station, including the cable we need. If Jules cuts the zip ties, she’ll have enough slack to bring the cable to the proper connection.”
One thing a lot of people don’t know— NASA likes to hold things together with duct tape and zip ties. For real.
Sean speaks into his headset. “Station. Hold,” then gets up from his desk and comes over to where I’m standing. He reeks of body odor and coffee. But then again, who doesn’t in MCC right now? “If we loosen those wires, will it cause any potential damage or malfunction to the ones still operating?”
I call over one of the engineers and repeat the question.
“That’s a negative,” he says. “That group holds scars four through six. All are unused and capped.” Scars are what we call infrastructure that is viable but unused, specifically for future needs.
Sean gives me the go-ahead with a nod.
“Station, that’s a go to cut the zip tie,” I say. “But careful with the cutters. We don’t need any more challenges.”
“Houston. You got it.”
Jules’ tone does more to ease my mind than a Xanax would’ve in this moment. I can tell she’s firmly in control of the situation. That woman is a legend in the making. I only wish I could be up there with her.
“Bodie, move your fat head. I need more light.”
“I’m a glorified street lamp out here, aren’t I?”
God, I love these guys.
A few minutes later, cutters tethered and in hand, Jules cuts the zip ties along the four-foot stretch of truss.
“Station, did that give you enough room?” If not we’re back to square one and evacuating.
In a true hotwire, you can cut wires, strip the coating and connect them, just like Flynn taught me.
But live wires in the hands of astronauts are not a good thing.
One singe and their space suits could depressurize.
We need the scars intact to make this work.
“Oh yeah, Houston. We’re good to go,” Bodie drawls into his mic.
I allow myself a small smile. But my body is still tight with tension. Even though reaching the proper connection is a significant part of the plan, plenty of other failures can occur before we’re finished.
“Station, extend the cable to the J1 interface.”
For the next fifteen minutes, we watch as Bodie turns his head this way and that while Jules tugs the new cable and maneuvers around the truss to get to EXT-1’s connection panel. Eventually I have to sit down again. I’m exhausted from waiting.
Everyone watches as Jules tries and fails to connect the cable. She tries again. No go.
“Houston, the third time, as they say, is the charm. Cable connected.”
“Excellent, Station. Jules, I need you to re-secure the external panel. Bodie, check to make sure all connections are secure.”
Once done, Sean addresses the CRONUS console. “Send the command to send EXT-2 into a diagnostic state.”
A diagnostic state will initiate FDIR, a software program that detects faults, isolates them and tries for recovery. Once completed, we can get EXT-1 back to functioning order if the hotwire works.
Waiting is excruciating. Each line of data that FDIR brings up on the monitors makes my heart thump louder. Luckily, each piece of data continues cycling without failures.
“FDIR completed successfully. Connection is viable. EXT-1 powered up in primary state, healthy, and taking commands,” the CHRONUS console announces.
Applause hits the room, people shouting, clapping and hugging each other. Ian leaves his console to pick me up in a spinning hug, both of us laughing.
“You’re a damn genius, Jackie,” he says, setting me back down.
The spin jostled my glasses, and I freeze as Ian pushes them back up into position.
He doesn’t notice my statue-like stance, moving on to pump Sean’s hand and congratulate the rest of the team.
With shaky fingers, I readjust my frames myself, thinking of Flynn and wondering if he’s with Beth at this exact moment.
Though I’m so overwhelmingly happy at the outcome of the space walk, my smile is forced when I speak to Jules and Bodie through my headset. “Station, we have two fully functioning EXTs up and running. You are good to maneuver back inside.”
Disregarding proper public loop protocol, Jules simply replies, “That’ll do, hooker. That’ll do.”