Riding Rockets - Mike Mullane [119]
Our computer displays showedDiscovery as a bug tracking down the centerline of a fan of green energy lines. She was flying like a dream. In spite of the fire outside the windows andDiscovery ’s bizarre maneuvers on our instruments, I felt completely secure. The cockpit was as comfortable as a womb.
The Reaction Control System (RCS) thruster lights flashed intermittently to indicate they were firing to hold our attitude. Just a fraction of a degree in error and we would be tumbled out of control. If it happened, the Pacific would swallow our ashes. NASA wouldn’t find a trace of us.
Deeper into the atmosphere the G-forces increased to the maximum of 2. In any other circumstance this would have been a trivial force. A modern fighter can subject its pilot to 9 Gs. But for an astronaut returning from days of weightlessness, the feel of the G-forces was significantly amplified. It seemed as if an elephant were on my shoulders. I was being crushed into my seat. The weight of the helmet made it difficult for me to hold up my head. My vision began to tunnel, as if I were looking through a straw. I knew from my fighter jet experiences tunnel vision was an indication of approaching blackout. The vision area of my brain wasn’t getting enough oxygenated blood. I inflated my anti-G suit to the maximum setting and the air bladders squeezed my belly button nearly to my spine. I simultaneously bore down with my gut muscles, all in an effort to tourniquet my waist. It worked. My vision cleared.
Passing 200,000 feet we began to hear the faint rush of wind around the cockpit.Discovery was transforming herself from a spacecraft to an aircraft. Mike deployed the air data probes to give us better airspeed and altitude information. We flew into sunlight. It was still twilight below us but the Sun had dawned at 100,000 feet. AsDiscovery ’s velocity fell below the speed of sound, her shock waves, which had been trailing her, now zoomed ahead. A buzzing vibration shook the vehicle at their passage.
At seventy thousand feet the steering rockets onDiscovery ’s tail stopped controlling her attitude. She was now fully an aircraft, a creature of the air. Hank took control from the autopilot. While he could have taken control at any point during the reentry, there had been no reason to do so. The runway wasn’t visible until the final ten minutes of flight.
The dry lakebed of Edwards AFB, which had welcomed countless machines from the edge of space, now welcomedDiscovery. Hank guided her over the runway and then banked into a wide, sweeping left turn toward final approach. With her short, stubby wings she was a poor glider and he kept her in a kamikaze-like dive at nearly 350 miles per hour. From the cockpit it appeared as if we were diving straight into Earth. At 1,800 feet above the ground he started his flare. At 300 feet Mike lowered the landing gear.Discovery touched the sand in a perfect landing, just as the dawn was breaking. Hollywood couldn’t have written a better ending.
“Houston, wheel stop.” Hank made the call.
“Roger,Discovery. Welcome home.”
Our cheers had hardly died before all of us were wondering,When will I be able to do this again?
Chapter 23
Astronaut Wings
I was drunk on joy and beer. We were headed back to Houston on the NASA Gulfstream jet with our wives. A cooler of beer had been placed aboard and I was doing my best to ensure it was empty by the time we got to Ellington Field. I couldn’t sit down. I couldn’t stop talking. I was giddy and silly and, oh, so happy. I was the bride on her wedding day, the child on Christmas morning. Periodically