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Mission
Control
"Your daughter looks like she
could have the stuff to be our teenage astronaut," Texan
Senator Graff said. He chaired the committee on Commerce,
Science, and Transportation, which ultimately controlled the
funding for NASA, the Shuttle program. He pointed to a coffee
cup with a photo of a blonde girl on the side that sat on
the flight directors' console.
"Yeah. Got her good looks from my wife, " Glen Mins
said. "She's in Huntsville at Space Camp right now, pouting
because I didn't pull strings to get her selected for this
shuttle flight." The senator's smile is so large, I wonder
if its' sincere.
"What the hell?" Senator Graff yelled over gasps
in the room.
Everyone in Mission Control watched the screen as the astronauts
scrambled into the CargoHab.
Glen saw the senators' jaw drop and then looked around Mission
Control at the flight controllers, and felt pain in his stomach.
All the controllers shot forward from their positions and
immediately stared at their monitors. If their hands were
not on their keyboard or touching the workstation screen near
blinking red colors, they were holding onto their headsets.
"My baby!" Glen heard Laney's mother shout from
the VIP room
Glen pressed his sweaty hand against his headphone to listen
to the dozens of nervous voices on top of each other. He quickly
made out the urgent information by the near panic tones in
some words. In the background he heard a young voice, "What
's going on?"
Glen nearly crushed his push-to-talk switch when he spoke
on the Flight Director's Loop, "Capcom, Flight. Do we
have comm with Atlantis?"
"We have comm, Flight."
"Get a status of the crew." Is the crew alive? Are
they safe? Are they still in danger? This is going to be worse
than Apollo 13. "Get the guys across the pond working
on this."
Glen took a deep breath. He felt lightheaded.
"After Challenger and Columbia," Senator Graff leaned
into him with a pointing finger. "This could spell the
end of the manned space program. There's a lot or pressure
to use robots in space. And don't forget the Vestal Galactic
guys and the other private spacecraft."
Glen felt a strong stomach ache.
"This threatens my candidacy for President." Before
Glen could speak, Senator Graff interrupted with a low tone,
"We sent the teenager in space to win the hearts and
minds of young voters. Win or lose, I'll still control NASA's
funding."
"Senator," the NASA Public Affairs Officer stepped
forward, "A special hospitality suite is set up for you."
Glen watched the senator walk out of the room in a huff, then
heard a voice on the loop, "Get the cargo bay PSA to
float around inside Atlantis to give us a picture of what
is going on up there."
"We just lost the cabin PSA inside the cabin because
of depressurization."
"The cargo bay PSA uses nitrogen thrusters. We'll have
to use it since the other one is out of commission. Have it
peek in the windows."
"Flight, Capcom. We've got comm with Bruce in his suit,
and the astronauts in the CargoHab. Dr. Cobble reports Laney
has a shrapnel wound in her upper shoulder. Doc stabilized
her and gave her morphine. The other crewmembers have minor
face lacerations. Otherwise, they are fine."
"Flight, Surgeon. They've had rapid depressurization
from fourteen point seven psi to just three psi. They could
get the bends from nitrogen boiling out of their blood if
we don't pump up the pressure soon."
"Flight, EECOM. We can't help them until the hole is
patched."
"Get him a procedure."
"Flight, Surgeon. At three psi, they've got two hours
in the CargoHab."
"What about Bruce?" Glen asked.
"His space suit will pressurize to five psi. He's still
at risk for the bends, but not as much as the other astronauts."
"What about their ship?" Glen asked, "Lets
get a status."
"Flight, EECOM. We need Bruce to shut off the cabin surge
system to prevent losing the remaining oxygen and nitrogen."
 
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