Riding Rockets - Mike Mullane [101]
Judy crawled to the side hatch window and reported the access arm had been swung back into place and the fire suppression system was spraying water over it. She didn’t see any fire. “Henry, do you want me to open the hatch?”
Judy’s question elicited several exchanges of do we or don’t we make a run for it. How bad was the fire? LCC’s conversations seemed unpanicked and that gave us some reassurance that everything was under control. But LCC and MCC always seemed in control. That was their job, to calmly look at their computer screens of data and make robotic, emotionless decisions. Could they remain calm even as their creation was de-creating? I had no doubt. “We’ve had an RSLS abort” could well be engineer-speak for “Holy shit! Run for your lives! She’s gonna blow!” No, I was not comforted by the calm of the LCC.
“Negative on opening the hatch, Judy.” Hank decided we’d sit tight. It was a decision that might have saved our lives. The post-abort analysis determined the fire had been caused by some residual hydrogen escaping from the engines and igniting combustible material on the MLP. The gas flame may have been as high as the cockpit but since hydrogen burns clean we would not have seen it. We could have thrown open the hatch and run into a fire.
As time passed it became more evident we were in no immediate danger. We waited for the closeout crew to open the hatch. My thoughts turned as dark as space. My worst nightmare had been realized. I was still an astronaut in name only. For how long? It was obvious there would be no launch attempt any time soon. In my quiet hell I catastrophized. I built a scenario in which the engine problem was severe. The vehicle would be grounded for many months, maybe years, while the engines were redesigned and tested. Launch schedules would change. Our crew would be pushed backward in line, maybe even disbanded. I had gotten to within three seconds of a lifelong dream only to have it snatched away. For how long? Weeks? Months? Forever?
We exited the vehicle into the residual rain of the fire suppression system. It had soaked the gantry and now water was dripping from every platform, pipe, and cross brace. We were quickly drenched. Judy’s hair took a big hit. She looked like a sodden cat.
In the astro-van we sat in our soaked flight suits shivering from the chill of the air-conditioning. That system seemed to have only two positions, cold and freakin’ cold. Our physical misery was a perfect fit to the cloud of depression enveloping us. I wasn’t the only one doing mental gymnastics and wondering how badly screwed we were.
The wives and kids were waiting for us at the crew quarters and there were a lot of tearful hugs. “Dad, we thought you had blown up!” Pat was quick to fill me in on the momentary horror they had lived on the LCC roof.
At a press conference we all lied about the tension in the cockpit following the abort and fire. Hank took most of the questions and did the Right Stuff routine of, “Aaawh shucks, ma’am. T’weren’t nothing.” He explained how we train for these things, how confident we had been in the LCC’s reactions to the abort, how we had never doubted our safety. Meanwhile, I was wondering if I had shit in my flight suit.
We were released from our health quarantine to join our families. As expected, there would be no more launch attempts until the engine problem was identified and fixed. The shuttle program had just come to a screeching stop for an indefinite period.
Donna, the kids, and I returned to their condo to a boisterous party. While my aunts and uncles and cousins were bummed out the launch had been aborted, they were still having a great time. The sun was shining. The booze was flowing. It was a Florida family reunion. They were all on vacation and having a blast. And now my abort had made the reunion complete. If I had launched, the family would never have seen me. So they overwhelmed me with questions and requests for photos and autographs. Their enthusiasm was understandable. Most of them had not seen me since I had been selected