Impact

By Gregory Rogers

Mission commander, Donna Kennedy, faces disaster for herself and her crew. In an event rivaling only Apollo 13, a space shuttle mission faces absolute failure. The Columbia is damaged in space and cannot safely return to Earth. Finding a way to bring the crew home safely will be NASA’s greatest challenge since the infamous mission to the Moon. For Donna, however, it will be the most extreme situation she has ever faced. For the engineers and managers at Kennedy Space Center and Johnson Space Center, they must overcome tremendous challenges to save the lives of seven astronauts. In the course of the story, details of past NASA tragedies will be explained in a manner that will forever change how Americans view the history of the loss of Challenger in 1986 and Columbia in 2003. Truths must be told.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Nov 30, 2020
• ISBN: 9781645756941

Gregory Rogers

Gregory Rogers is one of Australia's finest children's book illustrators and in 1995 was awarded the prestigious Kate Greenaway Medal for Way Home by Libby Hathorn. His first book for Roaring Brook Press, The Boy, The Bear, The Baron, The Bard, was a New York Times Best Illustrated Book of the Year. He divides his time between Brisbane, Australia and Denver, Colorado.

Book preview

Chapter One

The Year Is 1992

The Space Shuttle Program Is Still in the Midst of the Most Successful Period in Its History

Tuesday, June 16th

Press Site, Kennedy Space Center

The attractive young blonde reporter in a red dress smiled as the older gentleman wearing a blue NASA polo shirt began their introduction to the viewing audience. The pair stood in front of the television camera in the late evening darkness with floodlights upon them while Launch Complex 39A also stood brightly lit up three miles behind them.

This is Sam Montero, along with Joyce Yarbrough, here at Kennedy Space Center. We welcome everyone watching on ZSED, channel fourteen, right here at the Space Coast in beautiful Cocoa Beach. KSC is really humming as we count down the last few hours before this launch. We welcome all of the first-time visitors to a shuttle launch and naturally welcome back all of our faithful Space Coast viewers who are here for each and every launch. We know that many of you have been here since the first days of the space program back in the 1960s so you guys know all about space launches. For the visitors, especially those from the European Space Agency, we will hopefully be seeing another amazing space shuttle launch here at the Cape in less than eight hours.

Yarbrough read from her cue cards as she chimed in, "That’s right, Sam. This will be NASA’s fourth shuttle launch this year. We were out here just over a month ago to watch the launch of STS-49 with the Endeavour and her crew. It was the first mission ever for Endeavour, which was built as the replacement for the Challenger. A little-known fact about Endeavour is that as the newest orbiter, it has a slightly higher payload capability than any of the other orbiters."

I didn’t know that myself, replied the older reporter. And I’ve reported on every single space shuttle mission launch and landing from right here at KSC, as our long-term viewers will recall.

Yarbrough continued, You know, STS-49 was a very important space mission for NASA. Commander Dan Brandenstein, Pilot Kevin Chilton, and their entire crew had a splendid mission as they set a whole range of new records for the shuttle program.

That’s right, Joyce, confirmed the elder newscaster. STS-49 was the first time three different astronauts did spacewalks at the same time. They had the longest spacewalk, or EVA, in history, at 8 hours and 29 minutes. It was also the first shuttle mission to have four separate EVAs. They were successful in capturing and returning the wayward Intelsat VI satellite. As expensive as that satellite was, that was quite a feat!

The blonde reporter stated, For astronaut Kathryn Thornton, it was the second mission for her to perform a spacewalk, as she performed the first female spacewalk for the U.S. back on STS-33, back in 1989. Way to go, Kathy!

Montero added, Kathy is definitely something special. Plus, she is such a truly nice person.

Yarbrough continued reading from his cue cards. The STS-49 crew set the record for the most EVA time of any shuttle mission at 25 hours and 27 minutes outside the capsule. They had to separately rendezvous three times with an orbiting spacecraft, and they were the first mission to use the new drag parachute to slow themselves at landing, which they did at Edwards Air Force Base in California. Or rather, the Dryden Flight Research Facility, as the NASA folks prefer to call it. I think the NASA teams have trouble giving the U.S. Air Force their due, especially the ones back over at Johnson Space Center.

Yarbrough laughed and explained, Dryden Flight Research Facility is a NASA operational complex out at Edwards Air Force Base. However, Dryden doesn’t own those big long desert runways out in California, yet they like to claim credit for any landings out there. Fortunately for us, whether you call it Edwards Air Force Base or Dryden, we shouldn’t have to worry about it. This upcoming mission is expected to land just a few miles from launch pad 39A at our Kennedy Space Center’s own Shuttle Landing Facility, or SLF.

Montero stated, "For you rookie space launch viewers, and we know there are quite a few of you for this mission, the first shuttle mission to actually land at the SLF here in Florida was STS-41-B, back in 1984. That mission was the fourth flight of the space shuttle orbiter Challenger."

That’s right, Yarbrough inserted. "STS-7, on Challenger’s second flight back in 1983, was supposed to have been the first to land here in Florida, but bad weather forced them to land in California. By the way, our faithful viewers may remember that STS-7 was the first time an American woman, Sally Ride, flew into space."

Montero checked his notes and stated, "Columbia is otherwise known within NASA circles as OV-102. The OV stands for Orbiter Vehicle. Each version of any testing or actual space mission orbiters had their own unique designator. OV-99, previously called by the designator STA-99 for Shuttle Test Article, was originally meant to be used only as training purposes rather than be identified as a Flight Vehicle.

"OV-101, or Enterprise, was actually supposed to be the first such spaceflight orbiter. However, it was found that the OV-99 was actually structurally stronger than the OV-101 and easier to convert to the new systems like the OMS pods and RCS thrusters the designers felt was needed. Enterprise was therefore relegated only to the atmospheric test flights at Edwards AFB. Meanwhile, the OV-99 was then renamed as Challenger, after the H.M.S. Challenger that performed a global research expedition back in 1872 to 1876. Although Challenger was prepared for flight, it was OV-102, Columbia, that was ready first and instead became the first space shuttle to launch into space back on April 12th, 1981. Challenger did not fly its first mission until April 4th 1983. It then flew ten more missions, but was infamously lost forever on January 28th, 1986."

That was sure a sad day for the space program and all of us at the Space Coast, Yarbrough commented. "But as we mentioned before, Endeavour, its replacement, has now flown its first mission and has become a key addition to the fleet. In addition to Columbia and Endeavour, we also have Atlantis and Discovery. Of course, the Enterprise is now a museum piece and never flew in outer space."

This mission about to launch, STS-50-P, will be quite a unique mission itself, Montero promised his viewing audience. We will see astronaut Donna Kennedy become only the second woman to command a space shuttle mission. From what I hear, she is some kind of special pilot.

Absolutely, added the lady correspondent. Donna Kennedy was one of the first women to become a pilot in the U.S. Air Force, then went on to graduate number one in her test pilot class at Edwards Air Force Base in California. She was a pilot for her first space shuttle mission and now will be the commander for this one. As a woman, I can say that we are really proud of women finally getting our due, and having a woman like Donna Kennedy in charge of such a critical space mission is quite a step forward for all women.

Montero added, I was able to interview both Donna Kennedy and her father, the late Colonel Gerald Kennedy, who had a rather distinguished Air Force career himself, before her previous space mission. They were quite a pair, for sure. I’m sure it was a terrible blow to Donna when her father passed away just a couple of years ago. I know they were pretty close for many years since her mother died while she was quite young.

That is certainly what I understood, confirmed Yarbrough. But I am certain that Donna is up to the task for this mission. She is an exemplary astronaut who must be really excited for her opportunity to lead this space mission. STS-50-P will be a very busy and important space operation.

Montero nodded in agreement. "This really is a special space shuttle mission coming up. The European Space Agency will be in charge of the LM-2 Spacelab module in Columbia’s payload bay and will be sending up two of their own astronauts in space. A German astronaut, Doctor Mannfred Helmbrecht, and Doctor Angelica Droussard, a French scientist, will be accompanying the five American astronauts on this mission. They will have a whole host of medical and scientific experiments they will be performing while circling the Earth. We and the Europeans certainly expect great things ahead for this flight, for sure."

Yarbrough stated, "There will also be a special military payload aboard Columbia as well, but few details about it are available since it is supposed to be highly classified. It is rumored there may be another nuclear electrical generator as the payload and we have seen quite a few nuclear protesters in our area once more. The protesters don’t seem to like the idea of the military or NASA launching any type of nuclear devices from our Cape. We appreciate their concerns, but we have great faith in our NASA safeguards."

Montero pointed up to the sky. "We are expecting a great weather day tomorrow morning in Brevard County and all along the Space Coast so spectators all the way to Orlando should get a terrific view of this very significant space launch. Get ready for a picture-perfect lift-off of the space shuttle Columbia as we get ready for another NASA adventure in outer space!"

Operations and Checkout Building, Kennedy Space Center, Florida

Fate?

No, Donna Kennedy decided quickly, shaking her head.

Not fate, she softly argued to herself. I just made a poor decision.

The highly renowned NASA astronaut and U.S. Air Force pilot instantly made a clenched fist in the air and became frustrated with her own failings, as infrequent as they might seem to others. Even whispering her doubts into the darkened room less than a mile away from the Press Site was a problem for her. It seemed to be an indicator of a weakness she could not afford to display to anyone.

She rested in the astronaut quarters within the Operations and Checkout building at Kennedy Space Center. The bed chamber within the massive O & C building was pretty comfortable, though, as it had been designed to be. It wasn’t the bed’s fault she remained awake, she knew all too well. She and sleep had not always been on the best of terms. Especially with an event like the impending space shuttle mission she would command in just a few hours.

Concealed now within the darkness of her room at KSC, Donna tried to hide and suppress the depth of her private hesitation, even from her own ego. She was the pride of NASA, as she had been in the U.S. Air Force, even through test pilot training. She had ended that training course ranked as the number one pilot in her class for a very good reason. She was accustomed to being number one, whether it was in the classroom or the flight line. The best of the best of the best, was how she had been described in the press on many occasions. Internally, however, she had silent, hidden misgivings she could never even mention to her closest colleagues within the space program.

Donna could hide her inner doubts far more effectively when others were around. She had always been excellent at presenting the fearless facade expected of any woman pilot intruding into a flight world dominated by men. She had little choice but to appear to be as tough, if not tougher, than the men with whom she flew.

She listened while the incoming air made a gentle blowing sound as it passed through the slotted overhead vent. Whether out of boredom or merely as a ruse to keep her mind off her unspoken fears, she recalled her first tour of this area, back when she was still merely an astronaut-candidate.

The guide that day had told Donna’s group how the air system for KSC’s mission astronauts’ quarters was carefully cooled and filtered before it could enter her currently darkened, specially prepared chamber. After all, the guide had pointed out, while there were literally tens of thousands of workers at Kennedy Space Center to strive toward each space shuttle launch, only the five to seven astronaut crewmembers for each mission would personally climb into the orbiter, strap down, and launch themselves into outer space. Therefore, she and her colleagues had been assured, the astronauts’ health and safety always comes first.

Donna sighed quietly and ruefully repeated, Our health and safety.

Nothing was too good for the astronauts; she had been repeatedly assured. Especially when they were about to ascend the colossal controlled explosions of a space launch. Together, the three-space shuttle main engines, or SSMEs, and the twin solid rocket boosters would ignite, blasting them into space with enormous force. Seven million pounds of thrust from the space shuttle’s combined engines would soon drive her crew and spacecraft into the heavens, with Donna sitting at the controls in the commander’s seat.

It was the rest of the story, as Paul Harvey might have stated, that also concerned her. It had been that way ever since she had been named to be the commander of this shuttle mission. Donna had tried to call Rick that day but he wouldn’t even answer her phone call. Richard McDermott, her ex-husband pilot, had never been able to stand being second fiddle to his own wife, yet compared to Donna he always was. Since that NASA crew announcement day, nearly two years ago, the woman astronaut had not heard a thing from him. Nor from his new bimbo of a wife.

As though she needed anything to further stress her life, Donna had even been forced to endure multiple and repetitive anonymous death threats, sometimes quite specific, once it was announced that she, as a woman, would command this mission. In the 1990s, the American society should have progressed far beyond the blind male chauvinistic hatred of her gender and her accomplishments, but Donna had been forced to repeatedly witness this gender prejudice firsthand.

The Mission Commander didn’t want to think about those sorts of issues at a time like this, nevertheless. Prejudice came in many forms, as she had also witnessed it against many others, even for her own crewmembers. Nor did she want to spend time just then trying to figure out how such discrimination might have affected Ray and his own choice of antics.

Lieutenant Commander Raymond C. Moody was an African American Navy aviator with his own share of sad stories. He would be her mission’s second-in-command for this flight. Ray had subtly hinted far too many times that he should have been the choice for Mission Commander. She knew there were quite a few others within NASA who held that same opinion. It was a sore spot she tried her best to ignore.

Especially today.

Donna knew, in just a few more hours, she would have to be the commander of this mission, regardless of what anyone else thought. She and her six crewmembers would ride the famous silver astronaut van out to KSC launch complex 39A for their scheduled lift-off into space aboard Columbia.

If only Dad was here, she somberly whispered into the hushed chamber.

Base Housing, Satellite Beach, Florida

Major (Dr.) Stephen Cobb had been awakened by his alarm clock or telephone call on far too many previous occasions. Not being a morning person, he had created his own problems in first becoming a physician and then being part of the U.S. Air Force. Neither profession allowed sleeping in as part of a successful career.

Suddenly, his clock once more awakened him for duty. Cobb shut it off and paused for a few more moments in the comfort of his warm covers. With a sigh, he rolled out of bed for what was likely to be a busy day. He would soon operate as the senior flight surgeon aboard the Jolly One helicopter for the astronaut rescue and recovery team at Kennedy Space Center. He had a show time at the 41st Air Rescue Squadron four hours prior to the opening of the space shuttle launch window, so he had no choice but to get up. This would be just another oh-dark-thirty mission.

Cobb tried to sneak into the bathroom of his base residence without waking his wife or kids at this early hour. They had no reason to be up at this time. His wife mumbled something and then went back to sleep. Good for her, he thought. He had gone to bed early last evening and she had watched the kids for him, trying to keep them quiet for their father’s attempt to sleep.

As he moved to the shower, Cobb knew what awaited him for this was his fourteenth space shuttle mission to support. So far, he had not been required to perform any rescues of the astronauts, close-out crew or fire-rescue team members at KSC. He had, however, practiced multiple rescue exercises for such a contingency. He had also performed a number of successful rescue missions for non-astronauts in and around Florida, and elsewhere around the world. He hoped this mission would be an uneventful shuttle launch.

When he felt the warm water flowing over his body, the doctor had an aching pain in his left lower back. Last week he had been practicing his fast-roping out of one of the big HH-3E Jolly Green helicopters and had landed hard to his left side as he contacted the ground. It was troublesome but more annoying than anything else. It helped him to realize he was no longer eighteen years old, as he had been for similar military training long ago.

Cobb already had his flight suit, underwear, gym shorts, t-shirt, dog tags, and flight boots prepared on the chair to put on after his shower. He liked to think he would be ready for all situations. At least as well as he could be when he and the members of his rescue team would shortly gear up at the 41st ARS hanger for the unknown and potentially catastrophic events that awaited each space shuttle launch attempt.

The USAF flight surgeon knew all too well there was no such thing as a routine countdown for the millions of parts of a space shuttle vehicle and for the vital efforts of thousands of workers at Kennedy Space Center. He, as well as the astronauts, was fully aware that anything could go wrong at any time. And everyone in the space program expected, sooner or later, something would happen to the very complex spacecraft.

That was exactly the reason why Cobb and his NASA-certified rescue team would be flying at KSC in their HH-3 Jolly Green helicopter today. They had to be ready for anything!

Operations and Checkout Building, Kennedy Space Center, Florida

Donna still couldn’t sleep.

Insomnia, along with a high degree of both intelligence and dedication, ran strongly in the family of the late U.S. Air Force Colonel Gerald Kennedy, and both he and his daughter had long suffered from its effects. Throughout her childhood, many a pleasant hour had been spent between the pair, one a pilot and one a future pilot, while her mom had slept peacefully in her bedroom.

The early decades of her life and his career had been highlighted both by insomnia and mobility as their family had traversed across the globe with each of her father’s new assignments. As a military brat, having lived in many places most others merely heard of or read about, Donna’s childhood had been defined by their frequent PCS moves. Each Permanent Change of Station had meant that she would leave any of the temporary friends she had made behind so that she could try to make new ones at their latest temporary home. Never considering herself a loner, she had long-ago learned to be quite self-sufficient.

Nearly three long years ago, Donna had again been in this same building, in this very same room, with nearly the same thoughts running through her head. However, then she’d been preparing to become only the second female pilot to fly on a space shuttle mission, with only Eileen Collins preceding her as the first American woman to pilot an American spacecraft.

Remembering that night, she mused, my thoughts were similar, but there were some awfully big differences. Back then, I only wished for a few more days of training. A little more time to make certain, absolutely certain, that I was ready for the tasks that awaited me.

She recalled how tingly and excited she felt back then, preparing to blast off into space for her very first time, with her beaming father standing by with the other crewmembers’ families. Donna had been pleased, back then, prior to launch, that her beloved father lived to see her first mission into space as an astronaut. He hadn’t been well for the last few years as his health had waned, and Donna had so eagerly wanted to finally gain his complete approval. She had been thrilled to note how immeasurably proud he was of her then, at that moment. It had been the ultimate highlight of Donna’s life to finally make the grade as a shuttle pilot—the finest job in, or out, of this world.

Her buoyant stroll out the O & C door for that first mission, outfitted in her orange LES spacesuit, in the company of the rest of her astronaut crew, was an intensely moving moment in her life. Her father had stood behind the separation line with the other friends and family of the crew, waving and cheering for all he was worth. It was a show of emotion such as she had never seen from the stoic Colonel Gerald Kennedy, the Master Command Pilot for the U.S. Air Force. His unusual exuberance had added immensely to her own satisfaction of that hopeful episode which was about to unfold. In fact, just as she stepped up into NASA’s silvery astronaut van, which would take her crew out to the KSC Launch Complex 39B, Donna glanced back through the closing doors just in time to catch him wipe a tear of joy from his eyes.

That had been three years ago.

Three long, painful years ago.

Three years she had merely survived instead of enjoyed, both because of his death and because of her disappointment with her own level of flight performance on that first mission.

Three years that had led inexorably to this current space mission.

Tonight, as she remained awake within the NASA-provided bedroom, Donna had spent literally thousands upon thousands of fretful hours preparing herself for this flight, for she could only prove to her superiors, her fellow astronauts, to the flying world, to herself, and to her father’s memory that she truly had the right stuff by flying this mission, and by performing this mission flawlessly.

Donna understood the requisite actions she would need as this flight’s Mission Commander. This time, Donna knew deep within her bones, the crew will be looking to me to make the tough decisions. Especially Ray. There will be no one else to rely upon if I made a mistake. I am prepared, and I cannot, will not, fail my crew!

After a deep sigh, Donna silently prayed, Lord, help me to be ready!

Then, recalling a silent grave marker that now represented her father, she knew she could not, would not, disappoint him again.

That was simply unthinkable.

Airport Bar, Chicago

Austin Barksdale stared into the shot of amber liquid through bloodshot eyes. Again. The drink seemed to patiently wait for him, like an old friend. A very familiar old friend. Sometimes, it seemed, his only friend.

It would have made sense for him to head straight home after arriving back in Chicago from L.A. However, returning to an empty apartment was less appealing to him than staying at the bar populated by strangers who did not know or care about him.

Contemplating the lonely beverage, Austin noticed how the cohesive effects at the side of the glass brought the liquor sweeping upward in a gentle arc, smoothly joining the horizontal surface of the fluid to the nearly vertical wall of the container. He’d been trained back in college to calculate the forces behind those effects of cohesion. He could have normally performed those rather uncomplicated calculations in his head, should he choose to do so. His intimate friend, however, had robbed his mind of that ability tonight. His four previous shots of the bourbon had seen to that.

I’d have trouble remembering those equations when I’m sober, these days. Not that I’m sober very often, he admitted to himself in an uncharacteristically truthful moment of insight. He downed the remaining bourbon and had the glass filled once more.

Insight, especially truthful insight, had never been his strong suit. The same could be said for his telling of the truth in general. He shook his head to clear it of the idle thoughts that seeped in from his subconscious mind. He was drunk and he knew it. His old friend had never been discriminating in its effects.

His mother might have been proud of that one passing moment of truthful insight. Janet Hancock Barksdale was raised to become an honest person, growing up in a devout Southern Baptist home. She had been honest, too, even in her failures. Mournfully honest, from Austin’s standpoint.

Janet Hancock Barksdale’s lifelong crusade to generate integrity in Austin, however, had been effectively derailed by the onerous example of his father. To be more accurate, his step-father. His actual father had left the pair before Austin was born, the teenage boy being threatened by the upcoming responsibility he had inadvertently created. His mother, only seventeen herself at the time, had subsequently suffered an even greater blow when she was estranged from her own family because of her youthful transgression.

Austin’s grandfather, the pastor of a small congregation, was far too upright to tolerate the blight she had brought upon the Hancock family name and her own father had agreed. Janet went off quietly to a home for unwed mothers and eventually got a job as a waitress. Austin was born in a public hospital and had a sickly first year of life. In spite of the dreariness of her circumstances and the rejection from her family, she remained faithful in her attendance at church and always believed that God had something special for her life.

And for Austin’s.

Then one hot summer day, a brash young man stopped in at her restaurant for a meal. The pair hit it off and in two weeks, Janet believed she had finally met the man of her dreams and they were married. Immediately afterward, Jack adopted Austin. Only after the ceremony did his mother begin to learn the truth about the man she had married. Jack Barksdale was a decent man, when sober. Unfortunately, that turned out to be a rather rare occurrence. Jack couldn’t keep a job, but Janet put up with all his abuse because she didn’t believe in divorce. Her husband’s abuse of Janet eventually included the young infant. At nine months of age, Jack grabbed the young infant so hard that Austin’s right shoulder popped out of place. It wasn’t the last time that would happen. Even now, at age forty-three, Austin’s shoulder had been dislocated so many times that it now slipped out of place with even moderate exertion. Still, Jack was the only father Austin had ever known.

The ease with which Austin followed his step-father’s dubious example seemed almost genetically designed. The unfavorable example of his step-father was so clearly received by Austin that he never ceased to cause his mother intense and unending anguish. The maternal disagreements that first began during his grade school days had erupted more intensely through the ensuing years, driving a wedge between Janet and Austin that had not changed at the time of her untimely death.

Completely unnoticed during his introspection, an attractive blonde had slipped into the leather barstool next to his. Jarring his attention from the drink, she eagerly asked, Aren’t you Dr. Austin Barksdale?

He slowly turned to gaze at the young beauty. The drunk took a long, sluggish appraisal of the questioner. Austin concluded that she was probably twenty years old or so, something of a free spirit, at least dressed like one, and most likely on the loose side of moral issues. Perfect for my needs, he concluded.

Well, aren’t you? she prodded, a bit more forcefully this time. Narrowing her eyes, a gleam playing about their deep blue recesses, the young woman declared, I know you’re Dr. Barksdale, the famous physicist.

Austin leaned back in the barstool, appreciating the cut of the questioner. He slowly pronounced, Actually, I am, young lady. Do I hear a note of admiration for my literary triumphs in that sultry voice of yours? A hint of a mischievous smile formed at the corners of his mouth. He’d perfected that smile over many years, and it had rarely failed him – at least when it counted.

The alluring young woman laughed loudly. Maybe a bit too loudly, but Austin didn’t care. She tossed her golden waves of flowing hair toward him, and then snapped it back over her head in such a precise manner that Austin immediately knew she’d used this beguiling move before. He suspected he’d found a kindred spirit. Too bad for her, he decided with growing confidence.

She snickered as she related, "I’ve been a fan of yours since you ripped the head off that Environmental Protection Agency spokesman during the debate on News Today USA. You carved up that EPA jerk so neatly he could’ve been served in a Chinese restaurant like the chicken that he was! I must say, Dr. Barksdale, everyone in my college ecology club thought that you were absolutely terrific. A promising smile broke across her face. I never thought that I’d be able to meet you in person."

Austin thought back to that debate for a moment. It had truly been one of his sterling performances. And he knew that sterling performances not only paid off by selling more of his doomsday-predicting books, but also by creating more encounters of this very type. With a twinkle returning to his eyes, he pushed himself forward in his seat so that his knees just touched the inside of hers. He leaned over and whispered into the girl’s ear. I just might be persuaded to show you how well I can handle hot dishes—like you!

Chapter Two

Tuesday, June 16th

Operations and Checkout Building, Kennedy Space Center, Florida

Donna had always respected Colonel Chuck Griffin as a really great commander on her first spaceflight. He had been the same breed of pilot her father had always been and that she had always hoped to become herself. Griffin had certainly controlled their previous mission, knowing exactly what each crewmember was doing and what their jobs were.

That, unfortunately, had included pulling her backside out of the sling during their ascent. He had literally saved the mission and she knew it. She’d nearly cost them the mission, and knew that as well.

But that was three years ago. Three long years ago. Deep inside, where only she knew what secrets abided, Donna had since felt a hesitancy that had never been there before.

Her father still prominent in her thoughts, Donna reached over to the night stand beside her bed and felt in the darkness for the meaningful ring. She remembered exactly where she’d placed it before lying down to sleep—precisely three inches from the edges of the bedside table, accurately bisecting the angle created by the corner, as it always did each night. That ring was her most prized possession and she never left it far away. It was the one possession she could never replace, for it was from him.

Her groping fingers touched the cold, smooth surface of the silver circle, and Donna picked it up, then slipped the shiny band onto her pinky finger. When her father had purchased the ring, he had specifically sized it to fit her middle finger. Major Gerald Kennedy, back then, told his ten-year-old daughter that he wanted the ring to be big enough for her to wear even as an adult, reminding Donna always of her duty to always be the best.

Now a fully-grown woman, Donna only wore it on her smallest finger, but she could still wear it and did so whenever possible. She had even worn it when she had possessed a wedding ring that still meant something. Even now, when not worn she still had her father’s ring always in her possession, for it seemed to her that his spirit was somehow attached to that ring. When she did well, he was there to congratulate her. When she did poorly, he was there to teach and instruct her, just as he had done so many times in the past. To her, the ring was her father.

The ring had an inscription inside. It read: To my little pilot. As Donna thought about her father, and his gift, she clearly understood that on this mission to space there could be no mistakes.

But it always came back to that single mistake on her first actual spaceflight. That one second, that one otherwise trivial second, which had so adversely impacted her life. It had also, she feared, taken that confidence in her away from her fellow astronauts. Their lives would quite literally be in her hands when they launched into space riding over four million pounds of high explosive rocket fuels. While none of her crew had ever made mention of that episode, she suspected, she’d even felt, those slight nagging doubts from her crewmates.

And particularly from Ray.

The U.S. Navy aviator, for they were better than mere pilots, was one of the true hotshots of the astronaut corps. He had been selected as the Mission Pilot to fly on this key Department of Defense space shuttle mission with Donna. The black pilot was a member of the same astronaut class and this was also his second flight in space, riding the fast track to that point. He had let everyone in the corps know that he wanted the commander’s position for their DoD flight, and there had been many who felt he deserved it. A flawless pilot and an absolute wizard with the shuttle’s technical details, there had been a great move to get him the job.

But instead, the role of commander had been given to Donna. Not receiving the commander’s assignment had to create disappointment for Ray. However, she suspected that he also felt he was second-in-command behind a woman who everyone within the program knew had nearly messed up her first mission. She’d heard through the grapevine that Ray had been livid when he found out about the choice made by the NASA leadership. To his credit, however, he’d never openly addressed the issue to the other crewmembers or to her directly, which was fine by her.

Now, after a year and a half of training together, they were a team. A team of proven professionals. A team of two skilled pilots who knew and understood the flying tendencies of each other and their respective roles for this space mission.

But not a team of friends.

Control Room 135A, Peterson Air Force Base, Colorado

A group of visitors strolled onto the walkway overlooking a room full of computerized work stations that the unacquainted guests might have mistaken for NASA’s Mission Control Center down in Houston, Texas, had they not known better. The large room’s relative silence was broken by the shuffling feet of the large group that had just entered the area. Having just finished breakfast, the early-morning guests were beginning the grand tour of the American facilities. The early hour of the tour didn’t bother the group since they were on different circadian rhythms anyway.

Speaking in a loud, monotone voice, the uniformed guide narrated, The Space Surveillance Network, or SSN for short, is a widespread conglomeration of an assortment of optical and radar sensors which constantly inspect near-space for any objects circling the globe. Used in support of the primary space-surveillance mission of the U. S. Air Force, the SSN is used to detect, track, identify, and catalog all man-made objects in orbit around the Earth that we can possibly track. As the frequency of space launches for manned missions, commercial satellites, scientific research, and military purposes have continued to grow in numbers, this program likewise had to grow. With literally thousands of objects ten inches or larger orbiting the Earth, and tens of thousands of objects between five and ten inches in size, and untold numbers of items less than five inches in diameter or less circling the globe, the difficulty in tracking all these pieces has grown exponentially.

The group migrated farther into the room, a small hubbub accompanying their movement. In response, the speaker orated in a voice slightly louder than normal, "It is for these reasons that new sensors have been constantly upgraded for radar stations world-wide. Unfortunately for the workers in this office, the computer upgrades to help them analyze all of this data still hasn’t been funded, so they continue performing the monitoring and cataloging of these space objects through their own efforts. Congress has been slow in funding the needed computer upgrades, so the new software we had been promised two years ago is still delayed.

It is an important job of monitoring that we perform at Space Command. This is due to the vast number of objects in space the size of, say, a softball or larger have had their space orbits noted, cataloged, and plotted in the computers you see here. Each day we perform over 70,000 observations of space objects. We are using the sensors of the SSN in many ways, and the future is bright. After all, U.S. Space Command played a vital role in the Gulf War, as you heard in the briefings yesterday, and it is only a matter of time before all of the functions in Space Command reach the levels of those more vital programs. We even have a four-star general in charge here these days.

The guide was an official U.S. Air Force spokesman who would lead the pack of visiting dignitaries all around the classified facilities of Peterson AFB. A few years ago, this kind of tour would have been completely unthinkable, but the world had changed, becoming a more friendly place of late. Sort of.

The American officer hoped all of the guests heard his explanations. Not that he could really tell, however, because his dignitaries were members of the Japanese Space Agency. They seem more intent on using up five rolls of photographs per person than listening to the details of my lecture, the spokesman thought, chuckling to himself about how true the old cliché about Japanese tourists seemed with these visitors. Just the fact that they were allowed to take any photographs at all was a huge departure from the sense of information security he had been used to through the entirety of his military career. It’s a brand-new world out there.

Smiling as he continued, the USAF spokesman said, And around here, NFL doesn’t mean the National Football League. It means ‘New Foreign Launch.’ He waited for the usual chuckles that line produced, but this time, there were no such responses. I guess they don’t know much about football, he mumbled as he moved the crowd along.

Having listened to the lecture from one of the consoles on the floor below, Staff Sergeant Ralph Batchelder smiled at the joke, then returned to his own activities. As a technician charged with keeping the computer consoles operating effectively in the windowless room of the 1st Space Wing, at Peterson AFB, Colorado, he’d worked very hard to be the best, most informed technician any of the officers had ever seen. A promotion hung in the balance. He had, therefore, been staying around after almost every shift lately, usually with Captain Danny Martin, a space surveillance officer.

The two of them had been doing this for over two months. Batchelder also felt that the more he knew about what the officers were looking for, the better he’d be at giving them the support they needed. His upcoming Enlisted Performance Report would reflect his efforts, he hoped. Besides, it was interesting stuff.

I hate visitors, the officer commented to the enlisted man. Ignoring the mob passing through, Captain Martin continued his discussion of orbital perturbations and their effects on satellites. He explained, Perturbations are influences, of various sorts, that affect orbiting satellites to alter the shape of their orbital paths. It they are supposed to be at certain places at certain times, these outside influences can significantly modify their specific orbits. Because of continuing effects of these perturbations, our satellites have to be manipulated by ground controllers to keep them where they should be. We call that ‘station keeping.’ The factors that create these perturbations vary from atmospheric drag, to the imperfections of the Earth’s own magnetic field, to the gravitational force of third bodies, such as the Moon.

SSgt Batchelder studied the console that he and Captain Martin sat beside. The highly sophisticated and incredibly expensive hardware was an unattractive maze of wiring, mother boards, and electronic modules on the back side where SSgt Batchelder worked. But on the front, where Captain Martin sat, there were coordinated rows of advanced monitors and input keyboards that made it all look clean and neat. Bright flashes of light reflected frequently off the equipment as the Japanese dignitaries did what they seemed to do best—take pictures.

Batchelder knew that the Japanese space program had been riddled with failures in the past. Until a couple of years ago. Having finally worked out most of the bugs from their systems, they had put four straight commercial launches into orbit using their advanced N-2 rockets from the Osaki Launch Site at the Tanegashima Space Center. The American civilian space launch companies will have a battle on their hands now, he considered.

Central to the captain’s workstation was an oversized computer monitor. It used a variety of color-coded symbols to display the paths of objects being tracked as they flew through the space surrounding the planet, each zipping along at speeds exceeding 17,000 miles per hour. Each symbol had a key code beside it to identify and maintain tracking data on that object.

All except one.

Excuse me, sir, but why isn’t that object cataloged? the staff sergeant inquired.

Martin looked puzzled for a moment. The officer stared at the display. I don’t know, Ralph, he replied, a frown creasing his brow. The sergeant’s question had obviously aroused his interest. It’s barely painted by the sensors, so it must be at the margin of their detection threshold. I just wish that new computer upgrade that had been planned for 1989 hadn’t been delayed. These old computer systems just aren’t adequate for the expanding mission we’re expected to do today. These computers are nearly antiques.

As the two men gazed at the display, the blip abruptly faded away.

SSgt Batchelder looked to the officer for an explanation. Captain Martin simply shrugged his shoulders. The object might be just small enough to elude normal detection, he theorized. It probably was momentarily in just the right position, at just the right angle for one of the sensors to pick it up. There could even be some atmospheric anomaly responsible for the target return. It’s possible there was nothing there to begin with, especially the way it dropped off the screen. The new analytical programs would have sure helped us on this one. In any case, we’d better make a note of it and put it in our daily report. Martin reached for a pad, then scribbled several numbers and symbols.

Batchelder asked, Why do that? If it can hardly even be detected, it shouldn’t cause any problems. Why worry about such a small object?

We’re supposed to log every object detectable, he answered as he completed his noted. Martin then commented, You never know, maybe it’ll turn up again sometime.

Operations and Checkout Building, Kennedy Space Center, Florida

The beating of her heart measured time in the darkened room as Donna waited for each second to pass. It won’t be much longer, she whispered in an effort to console herself.

One by one, Donna tried to replay each of the myriad problem-case scenarios with which the NASA simulator instruction teams had tormented her and her shuttle crew during their