Perigee (41 page)
Even so, no one believed with absolute certainty that they would be able to survive a direct descent back into the atmosphere. Here, the skips would give them some margin as well. They would use the thickening air to absorb some of their energy and slow down a little. If he held the right pitch angle that energy would bounce them right back out of the stratosphere. They would coast back into space for a short time, allowing the ship to cool down. But it would not be permanent—the bounce wouldn’t give them enough speed to go back into orbit. They would come back down again, and if he flew it right they would make final entry across British Columbia and glide to a landing at Moses Lake. It depended on how long that tug decided to hold on.
They felt gravity building as the Clipper settled back into the atmosphere and the tug banged away behind them. Maybe it was just the exhaust vanes getting rattled, Ryan hoped. Outside, a pink glow began to envelop them. “We’re all-in now, Wade.”
Behind, the tug’s deceptively strong solar panels ripped away in flames. Golden insulation foil rapidly blistered, cooked, and was stripped away by the fiery slipstream. The rattling became a steady, intense vibration until the ATV finally tore free with a jolt. The drag separation threw them hard into their straps, and Ryan swore as he fought to compensate.
“Don’t overcorrect!” Penny’s voice warned through the static. They were rapidly losing radio contact in the ionizing air.
“Master alarm,” Ryan said as a shrill klaxon blared in the background. “Caution and warning panel’s lit up like a Christmas tree…number two vane actuators, center flap and starboard elevon seal actuators failed,” he recited. “Temperature sensors back there are gone, too. I think that tug ripped the elevon seals out.”
He steadied their descent and lifted the nose, though it was probably too late to stretch their range. The G-loading eased and their altimeter started ticking upward again as they bounced out of the thickening air.
“Okay, we’re out of the weeds for now,” he said. “G’s are settled at two-point-five, altitude four hundred thousand and climbing. Project we top out at five hundred.”
They continued sailing quietly into the sunrise, along a broad arc across Europe and Asia.
82
Denver
“Penny?”
“Working on it, Charlie!” she said, hurrying over to the maintenance controller’s station. “Looks like they tore out a couple of exhaust petals and damaged the ventral control seals.”
Not good
, he thought. Superheated gases were certain to slip in past the damaged control seals. At least they were along the trailing edges, in back. But even if the ship wasn’t in immediate danger, some of their flight controls would be cooked. That would become a problem soon enough.
“They were cooling down, Charlie,” she offered. “But they bled a lot of energy on that first skip.”
“Drag from the ATV?”
“Yep,” she said. “It’s going to be close now. Dispatch is looking at locations in British Columbia, maybe even Seattle.”
“That’ll be a sight,” Grant said caustically. “Assuming they still have control. Better light up Anchorage center. Let’s clear the roads.”
…
Austral Clipper
Familiar pink and yellow tendrils danced across the windshield as atmosphere and gravity asserted themselves once again. The Clipper was buffeted by the rapidly-building slipstream of plasma; Ryan thought he could feel a roughness through the pitch sensors from what were surely destroyed controls in back. They were now fully enveloped in a sheet of glowing plasma and ionized air, cut off from anyone on the ground.
“It’s actually quite captivating,” Wade observed. “But then I look at the temperature gauges.”
“Sometimes it’s best to just not think about that stuff,” Ryan said as checked the system diagnostics. “Skin’s getting hot back around the body flaps and elevons,” he said. “Number two—right side—is trashed.”
He dared to lightly manipulate the controls just enough to get a sense of their effectiveness. “Mushy…she’s trying to roll into the bad side,” he said. The autopilot was compensating by commanding the ship to roll away from the area of disrupted lift in an effort to keep the plane level.
“Don’t get too pushy, man. Let the computers do the work for now.”
Frustrated, he lightened his grip and trimmed the autopilot to ignore at least some of the rolling moment. Wade was right, of course. “I’m getting worried about those landing gear doors, too,” Ryan said. “The wells are really heating up.”
“We’re just along for the ride now, aren’t we?”
“Afraid so. Here’s to good luck and providence.”
Ryan couldn’t see a thing through the fiery air outside, and the plane shook more as a low rumble began to surround them. He looked up to the hasty silicon patch job they’d done around the emergency hatch. They’d been most concerned about that, but he now wondered if it was the least of their worries.
At least it’ll be quick if that thing gives out
.
83
Denver
“They’re in blackout, Charlie.”
“Peak heating?” he asked.
“Checking,” she said, holding him off. “Eighteen hundred C was the last we saw before blackout. Project they’ll exceed our max prediction by two hundred degrees.” They believed it could likely handle worse loads, but hadn’t wanted to try. “Wheel well temperatures were climbing at a pretty fast clip right before blackout,” she reported gravely.
“Bring up the IR feed from Houston, please,” Grant said to one of the dispatchers.
One corner of the wall screen was soon filled with a grainy black-and-white image from a NASA camera tracking
Austral Clipper
as it began re-entry. It was faintly outlined, turning light and shining white in those sections experiencing the worst heating. The broad nose and clipped wings were bright white, as expected, but a ragged trace also showed across the tail.
“Those are the elevon seals,” Frank Kirby said. The landing gear doors were perceptibly brightening as well. Were they just too far outside tolerance, left over from closing up after their launch from Denver last week? Just a quarter-inch hanging out in the hypersonic slipstream would do it, after all.
“Slow down the video,” Penny barked. She stared intently at the wing extensions, searching for any hot spots forming along their leading edges.
“Torching?” Hammond asked, realizing what she sought had also been the first indication of trouble in the gruesome
Columbia
re-entry crash years ago. Superheated gas entering through a crack in the wing leading edge had acted like a plasma torch, cutting through the wing structure and blazing into a landing gear well. They had watched the heating sensors trip in Houston, but no one connected the dots in time. By then it wouldn’t have made any difference, anyway.
Penny closed her eyes, hoping for the best. “We’ll just have to wait and see,” she finally sighed. Then and now, their fate was sealed regardless.
…
Houston
Audrey was looking at the same thing on their monitors. Though she didn’t know the Clippers well, isolated hot spots were to be assiduously avoided as a general rule. She reached behind her desk for the outside phone and punched the speed-dial for Denver.
“Go ahead Houston,” Penny answered tersely.
“What do you think they lost up there?”
“Crew reported failures in the starboard elevon servos, right after temperature sensors failed in the same location. That simultaneously occurred when actuators failed on the number two nozzle vanes.”
“How much control authority will they lose?” she asked, not venturing a guess as to what other damage might occur from the rapidly-building heat.
“The inboard controls are primary during high-speed flight. They’ll have to use the outboards, so it’ll limit turn radius and pitch authority until they get down to about 300 knots.”
“If nothing else melts off,” Audrey said, finishing the thought. She shot a cautious glance at the infrared video, looking for more concentrated heating. “I wouldn’t count on that center body flap either.”
“Agreed,” she said. “It’s a good bet that seal was damaged as well, or trailing debris from those vanes are causing hot spots,” she paused. “But I’m getting worried about the main gear doors, Aud. Crew reported increased roll inputs from the autopilot just before blackout.”
She closed her eyes.
God, no. Not again
. Just as her friend was doing in Denver, Audrey intently studied the IR image for any sign of uneven heating along the leading edges. If gases were torching inside of that plane, it would all be over with soon enough.
“Okay Penny. We’ll keep an eye on it here too,” was all she could offer. “How’s your tracking, FIDO?”
He was pulling double duty, monitoring both the space station and their ad-hoc re-entry vehicle. “Got ‘em, Flight,” he said, pointing at the wall screen. “Predicted position’s correct. They’re over the North Pacific, passing one-fifty West. Should be out of blackout in another minute.”
84
Denver
“501, Denver; over.” Penny called. The frequency had been silent for nearly three minutes. “501, Denver; please respond.”
“Houston’s FIDO expects them out of blackout soon,” Grant said.
Penny repeated her calls to the plane. Frank Kirby kept rewinding the infrared video from Houston, trying to tease out any warning signs from the grainy images.
Just then, there was crackle of static just as their screens came alive with fresh telemetry.
“Denver, 501. We’re taking the exit ramp at two hundred thousand feet. I’m at Mach twelve and my hair’s on fire. How copy?”
The center erupted in cheers and controllers leapt from their seats. Apparently everyone was listening instead of paying attention to their own flights, but Hammond let it slide. “Settle down,” he said. “We’re not there yet. Charlie, how’s trajectory?”
He held a hand up. “Checking now, hold on.”
“That was a wild ride,” Ryan’s voice broke in. “But I think we’ll be a little short. Aerodynamic controls are real mushy, too.”
“He’s right,” Penny answered. “We can forget Edwards. Moses Lake isn’t going to work either.”
“Options?”
“Vancouver, Canada,” Grant offered. “Otherwise Juneau or Sitka.”
“Not good places to dead-stick a landing,” Kirby advised them. Both were surrounded by mountains with notoriously difficult approaches to short runways. “And the long runway’s closed at Vancouver. How’s Seattle?” he asked.
“They can make that,” Grant said. “Runway 16-Left is almost twelve thousand feet.”
“That’s it then,” Hammond decided. “Penny, advise them to plan on landing at SEA.”
…
Austral Clipper
“Understand Seattle,” Wade replied to the direction from Denver. “You catch that, Ryan?”
“Sure did,” he said as they flew a wide S-turn along the Alaskan panhandle, slowly bleeding off speed. Sonic booms echoed across the mountainous coastline below them. “But it’s wishful thinking.”
“Did I say you’re always full of good news?”
“Just calling it like I see it. That ATV tore the hell out of our back end, and the exposed surfaces melted for sure. I’ve got zip for roll authority except the outboard spoilers…she keeps trying to turn into the damaged side,” he grunted, correcting against a sudden roll. “And look at those main wheel temps,” he said, pointing to a display just above the gear handle. “We blew the fuse plugs somewhere back there when the gear wells heated up.”
“Great,” Wade said. “So no landing gear?”
“Nope, but there’s a lot of ocean down there,” Ryan said, peering down at the coastline slipping by beneath them. “Put your water wings on.”
85
Denver
“They’re ditching, Arthur. Ryan confirmed the fuse plugs blew inside the wells.” Like any other aircraft, the wheels contained inserts that would melt away to release pressure before an overheated tire could explode.
“Figured as much,” he said. “They’re lucky it didn’t tear the doors off at those pressures.”
“Trajectory still points to the Seattle area,” Penny said. “I really don’t see what else they can do. Extending west toward the ocean is a bad move. Rough seas. He’s thinking of ditching it in the straits between Victoria and Oak Harbor.”
“Oh brother,” Kirby sighed. “This is going to be a real show.”
“Can’t blame him, Frank,” she replied. “I’d do the same thing—lots of open water with tiny little waves.”
“
Mayday, Mayday, Mayday,
” they suddenly heard over the emergency frequency.
…
A shrill alarm sounded as another red light flashed on the caution panel.