_Live From Cape Canaveral_ - Jay Barbree [95]
But in spite of the public-relations portrait being painted, Challenger was in every respect a contained iceberg. That the presence of so much ice was a clear danger to the launch team was demonstrated when the countdown reached its standard ten-minute hold at T-minus nine minutes in the count. This time the call was heard loud and clear.
“Hold!”
Launch Control explained the delay. The standard hold of ten minutes would be extended. The count would be held at the T-minus nine–minute mark for hours, if necessary, until the temperature rose to 40 degrees. Everyone looked at the sun, beseeched its warming rays.
But the warmth of the sun on the outside could not solve the problem of the critical O-ring seals inside the solid rocket boosters. Without the direct rays of the sun, they would stay cold, hard, and brittle until the needed hours of warm outside temperatures slowly thawed the inner workings of the booster. Any first-year engineering student should have known that—known as well the fact that the more frozen the O-rings were, the longer you had to wait for them to thaw.
The synthetic rubber O-rings’ design purpose was simple enough: to seal the joints so tight they would prevent violently hot gases from escaping as spears of flame. It was a hard task for any piece of equipment, and the booster engineers felt helpless. For months, they had been studying the O-ring seal problem. They knew a disaster was coming, but no one stepped forward and said, “Stop this train until it’s fixed.”
At about 11:00 A.M. Eastern time, Launch Control notified the Challenger crew that conditions were definitely warming up. The launch team anticipated resuming the count shortly.
“All right!” came the enthusiastic response from Challenger’s commander Dick Scobee.
At Mission Control in Houston, flight director Jay Greene polled his team for their final status report. At the Cape, launch director Gene Thomas ran through his checklist items with his team in launch control. It was a familiar and critical litany of last-moment review and checks.
Every response was “Go!” Not a single call to stop.
Inside Challenger’s crew cabin, the pilots, Dick Scobee and Mike Smith, went with precision through their final checks.
All seven astronauts locked their helmet visors in place. They rechecked their seat harnesses one final time. Every man and woman was strapped in securely. Commander Scobee told his crew, “Welcome to space, guys.”
In Launch Control, NASA commentator Hugh Harris reported the countdown’s final moments. His words spoken into the microphone that carried his official report to every media outlet worldwide. He watched the numbers shining brightly before him. Green and flashing numbers: They gave him an update with each passing second of the count while a television monitor showed him Challenger looming high on its icy launch pad.
But the NASA commentator wasn’t that comfortable relying on electronic vision. He found himself turning often in his seat to peer at the shuttle through the huge glass window trusting only his own eyes that all continued smoothly toward that critical moment of engine ignition.
Hugh Harris had been the “voice of Launch Control” for most of the previous twenty-four shuttle flights. As chief of information for the Kennedy Space Center, he knew the drill by heart and felt comfortable with the routine.
Last-second events kept Harris busy, providing a steady stream of information to the outside world. Through the news outlets carrying his running commentary, Harris’s microphone was the public’s link to the event.
“T-minus four minutes and counting…”
As the countdown rolled, the astronauts’ families were hurried from their VIP suite to an observation deck on the roof of Launch Control.
Ignition began as a flash of coruscating fire.
“T-minus ten, nine, eight…we have main engine start