“Trying… I’m trying.” Kessler inhaled deeply and looked over to his right. Jones sat rock still, apparently frightened. That helped Kessler relax. He had never seen Jones scared before.
“Say, CJ,” Kessler commented. “I thought you boys from Texas weren’t scared of anything.”
“Eighty-two beats a minute, Jones. You’re doing just fine.”
Kessler frowned. The bastard was indeed ice cold.
“Just think of something pleasant,” Jones said to Kessler. “Happy thoughts.”
Kessler gave him the bird.
“T minus three minutes, thirty-five seconds.”
Kessler watched Lightning’s General Purpose Computer responding to commands from the Launch Processing System — the KSC’s ground computer network at the launch site — by moving the elevons, speed brake, and rudder to ensure that they would be ready for use in flight. The control stick barely moved in all directions. LPS had taken control of the launch sequence at T minus twenty minutes, and it would remain in direct control of the GPCs until thirty-one seconds before launch.
“T minus three minutes, twenty seconds. Lightningis now on internal power, however, fuel cells will continue to receive fuel from the ground-support system for one additional minute.”
He looked through the heat-resistant glass panels. Nothing but blue skies; another beautiful day in central Florida.
Kessler decided that the wait prior to the launch had to be the worst part of the flight.
“T minus two minutes mark. It’s gonna be smooth sailing, baby.”
Easy for you to say, Kessler thought. The NASA announcer was not the one sitting over several million pounds of volatile chemicals. Kessler decided to follow Jones’s advice, and closed his eyes and thought about the sea, about the clippers, about the courageous Captain Forbes and Lightning. For a moment he felt ashamed. Ashamed of being scared. He had to force his mind not to be afraid of something for which he knew he was more than adequately trained. He was ready, he was prepared. But what if something goes wrong and… damnit, Michael! Stop it! If something goes wrong you will have to deal with it. You are in charge here. You make the calls. Just like Columbus on the Santa Maria or Henry Hudson on Discovery. You are the captain of your vessel. Start acting like one!
He inhaled deeply and opened his eyes. The sky was so blue. So peaceful. He admired it through the 1.3-inch-thick transparent center pane. Although the sun was in his field of view, it didn’t bother him. The outer surface of the pane was coated with an infrared reflector that transmitted only the visible spectrum. Kessler closed his eyes once more and relaxed.
“Heartbeat’s down to one hundred three, Michael.”
Kessler’s lips curved upward. He was in control. He was the mission commander.
“T minus one minute mark and counting. Sound-suppression water system is being armed… it has been armed. T minus forty-five seconds.”
Kessler could not help himself. He felt his heartbeat increasing once more. But this time he was not afraid; he was still in control of his own thoughts and movements. His senses sharpened to an all-time high.
“T minus thirty-five seconds.”
The Launch Processing System switched off. Its last command enabled the automatic launch-sequence software of Lightning’s five General Purpose Computers.
“Switching to redundant sequence start. T minus twenty seconds, T minus ten… nine… eight… seven… six… we’ve gone for main engine start… we have main engine start!”
The rumble. The powerful, mind-numbing rumble of Lightning’s three main engines pounded through the orbiter as they unleashed a combined 1.2 million pounds of thrust against the jet-blast deflectors of the launchpad. The turbine blades of the SSME’s turbopumps accelerated to 37,000 RPM, pressurizing the volatile chemicals to three thousand pounds per square inch. Liquid hydrogen and liquid oxygen savagely clashed in the nozzle section and exploded in a ferocious outburst of highly pressurized steam. At the same moment, the sound-suppression water system poured water onto the bottom section of the launchpad at a peak rate of 900,000 gallons per minute, protecting the orbiter and its payload from the damaging violence of the acoustical energy reflected off the Mobile Launcher Platform.
The SSME boost was titanic, but not strong enough to launch Lightning into its maiden flight. It needed additional power, additional force. It came a millisecond after the General Purpose Computers verified that all three engines had reached the required ninety-percent thrust level after three seconds of operation. Kessler felt the vibrations reach his soul the moment the two Solid Rocket Boosters kicked into life with a brutal roar, shaking not only Lightning, but the ground itself for several miles around. Kessler clenched his teeth as the pounding shock waves of six and a half million pound of thrust thundered across Cape Canaveral in a howling, ear-piercing crescendo. Suddenly the blue skies disappeared. Lightning had been engulfed by the wake of its own engines.
The GPCs verified that both Solid Rocket Boosters had ignited properly before initiating the eight twenty-eight-inch-long explosive bolts anchoring the shuttle to the platform. The GPC started the on-board master timing unit and mission-event timers. Lightning’s main engines throttled up to one hundred percent.
“Lift-off! We have achieved lift-off of America’s Lightning!”
Kessler noticed upward movement, felt a light pressure pushing him down against his seat. Out of my hands, he thought. No human could ever provide the precise thruster controls to achieve a smooth lift-off. The thousands of microscopic adjustments issued by Lightning’s powerful computers every second kept the orbiter on track.
“The shuttle has cleared the tower!”
In the cockpit, Kessler and Jones monitored equipment and instruments as Lightning rose higher and higher into the blue sky. A billowing trail of exhaust marked its path.
“Twenty seconds, all systems go,” commented Kessler in a controlled monotone. He noticed something happening to him. The fear was gone. “Roll maneuver starting.” The shuttle began to roll clockwise 180 degrees. “Twenty-five seconds. Roll maneuver completed.”
NASA’s ground-tracking stations received Kessler’s S-band radio transmission before relaying it to Houston. During the liftoff and ascent phase, Lightning’s S-band system transmitted and received both communications and systems-status information through Merrit Island, Ponce de Leon, and Bermuda ground-tracking stations.
“Zero-point-six Mach and rising,” Jones remarked. “The ride is very smooth, Houston.”
“Forty-five seconds. Approaching Mach one. Throttling engines down for Max Q,” Kessler reported as the computers reduced thrust for a moment to relieve the tremendous strain on the structure as Lightning approached the speed of sound. The entire cabin glowed from the light of the engines far below.
Suddenly ice, accumulated over the upper section of the external fuel tank, began to break off as the orbiter cruised through Mach one. Pieces exploded against the flight deck’s forward windows, but the sound of their impact was lost in the low, hard roar of Lightning’s engines ninety feet behind.