Judd takes in the dreadful tableau, tries to solve this life-or-death problem. If they ditch in the ocean
Atlantis
will sink immediately. The shuttle isn’t designed to land on water, nor float on it. Even if they could get out of
Atlantis
before it sank and inflate the life raft it wouldn’t help. Rhonda’s too badly injured.
Judd looks across at the Harrier. Could he transfer her to the jet? He spends five seconds thinking about the logistics before he realises it’s crazy.
He notices Severson pointing. He turns, follows the gloved finger towards the horizon. ‘That’s it.’
Corey sees it too. ‘You can’t be serious.’
‘There’s no choice.’ Judd finds a headset on the floor, pulls it on, plugs it in, works the radio’s controls.
**
In Flight Control on the island of aircraft carrier USS
George W Bush,
the radar operator notices a blip on the radar screen before him and speaks into his headset: ‘Inbound, this is the USS
George W Bush.
You are approaching a US naval ship, please identify —’
‘George Bush,
this is space shuttle
Atlantis.
We request permission for immediate landing.’
The radar operator looks up and scans the crowded room, sure somebody’s playing a joke on him. ‘Say again?’
‘This is astronaut Judson Bell aboard space shuttle
Atlantis.
We request immediate landing with all precautions. We are inbound, time critical with no capability for go round. Please advise.’
The operator stares at his screen, speechless.
‘What is it?’ His immediate supervisor stands behind him, gently sips a mug of coffee.
‘We have an aircraft on approach that identifies itself as the shuttle
Atlantis.’
The supervisor spits the coffee back into his mug then speaks through a cough: ‘Get a visual.’
The radar operator hits a button, barks into his headset: ‘We need a visual on an inbound from the south-west.’
At the far end of Flight Control beside a panoramic window the ensign hears the order through his headset. He pushes binoculars to his eyes and scans the sky to the south-west.
‘Hell, no.’ He yanks the binoculars from his eyes, blinks hard, then puts them back. ‘We have a space shuttle inbound. It’s - I think it’s gonna land on deck!’
There’s a pause, then every alarm on the boat sounds.
**
51
‘
Atlantis,
you are cleared for landing.’ The radar operator’s voice buzzes in Judd’s headset.
‘Copy that.’ Judd works the controller, tips
Atlantis
into a steep bank, lines it up with the distant carrier and the runway that cuts diagonally across its deck.
There’s no technology to help him. No autoland system, no laser guidance, and that 180-metre runway’s a whole lot shorter than the 3000 metres the shuttle usually lands on. Most importantly he must forget about the hash he made of his last landing in the simulator and use what he’s learned since then.
He stops, thinks. What has he learned?
He turns to Corey. ‘You said something, when we looked at the stars, about flying. It was - insightful.’ The Australian stares at him blankly. Judd’s hands go Rubik as he tries to recall what it was. ‘Something about believing you can trust the machine or, I can’t remember exactly —’
‘I believe I can and I trust the machine won’t break.’
‘Yes! That’s it. Thank you.’ Judd turns back to the windscreen, locks eyes on the carrier and whispers to himself: ‘I believe I can and I trust the machine won’t break.’ Saying it makes him feel better.
Corey holds Rhonda’s wrist. ‘Her pulse is weak.’
Judd nods, speaks into his headset:
‘USS George Bush,
do you copy?’
The operator’s voice buzzes in his ears: ‘We read,
Atlantis.’
‘We request immediate medical assistance once on deck. There’s an astronaut on board with a serious bullet wound to the right shoulder. Lost a lot of blood. Blood type is O negative.’
‘Copy that.’
‘We’ll be on deck within ninety seconds. Is the barrier net in place?’
‘We’re working on it.’
‘Copy that.’
What they’re working on is raising the overrun barrier net. A large net slung across the runway, it’s only used in emergencies. Efficient crews can have it up and ready in three minutes, though Judd hasn’t given them that much time. Of course it might not matter. The barrier net is designed to catch relatively light jets, not 100-tonne spacecraft.
Judd needs to slow
Atlantis
down as soon as it hits the runway, otherwise it’ll just roll off the end and drop into the ocean, barrier net or not. His options are limited. He can deploy the drogue parachute in the tail. It’ll help, but won’t be enough. He can open the tail rudder’s air brake. Again, it’ll do some good but won’t get the job done. He can apply the wheel brakes. They’ll do their bit too, but won’t make that much difference. Even together these things won’t stop a shuttle in 180 metres. He needs something else.
Work it backwards.
He uses his crazy Grandpa Bernie’s theory and thinks about what comes before the end of the carrier’s runway.
The arrestor cables. Three cables that lie across the runway and catch hold of a landing jet’s tail hook.
‘Of course.’ Judd silently thanks his long-dead grandpa and scans the cabin. ‘Where are the hooks?’ One lies on the floor behind his chair. He points at it. ‘Grab it.’ Corey reaches, nabs it. ‘Where’s the rope?’
The Australian nods to it. ‘Around your waist.’
Judd looks down, sees it. ‘Oh, right. How strong’s this stuff again?’
‘It’s 44-mil Dynamica. Breaking strength’s about 140000 kilos.’
Judd glances at it, skeptical. ‘Really?’
‘Thought it was better to be safe than sorry so I got the strong one. Cost a bit more but —’
‘Okay.’ Judd undoes the rope, passes it to Corey. ‘Tie the rope onto the hook.’
Judd turns back to the windscreen. The USS
George W Bush
rocks on the blue-green ocean before him. The sea is rough and choppy, the wind gusting, white tops visible everywhere.
The warship sways hard left. Judd works the controls, keeps
Atlantis
aligned with its runway. Then the boat heaves right. He chases it, keeps it lined up.
Corey threads the rope through the eye in the shank of the hook and whispers: ‘The weasel comes out of the hole and runs around the tree and jumps into - into —’ He stops, has no idea where the weasel jumps next.
‘Done yet?’ Judd says it without turning.
‘Getting there.’ Corey tries not to panic and starts again: ‘The weasel comes out of the hole and runs around the tree and jumps into - into - the —’
‘The
hole!
The weasel jumps into the
hole!’
Corey stares at the half-tied knot. For the life of him he can’t see it. ‘What hole?’
Judd glances back at him. ‘The one in front of you.’
‘Where?’
Judd points. ‘There!’
‘I can’t - oh,
there.’
Corey pushes the rope into the hole, pulls it tight - and it’s a knot! He’s overjoyed. ‘I did it! I did it —’
‘Good, now do it again!’ Judd points. ‘The chair. Tie the other end around it.’
Corey nods, loops the rope around the point where the second-row chair bolts to the floor.
Judd turns back to the controls, checks the airspeed. They’re coming in too hot. He doesn’t want to fly over the ship so he needs to slow the shuttle, but not too much. If he washes off too much speed they’ll be too low and slam into the carrier’s hull. So he works the controller, feathers the spacecraft’s angle of attack, pulls up the speed brake and bleeds the speed.
Atlantis
’s nose pulls up and it slows. Then keeps slowing. If it stalls it’ll just belly-flop into the ocean. He drops the nose and it quickly picks up speed again. Judd’s landed jets on carriers more than two hundred times so he knows the forces at play. If he comes down fast and hits the deck too hard the spacecraft will snap in two and he won’t have to worry about trying to stop it rolling off the end of the runway because everyone on board will be dead.
The enormity of what he’s trying to do suddenly overwhelms him. To land something this big on an aircraft carrier without engine power is - impossible. There’s no way he can do it. No way
anyone
can do it.
He freezes. Brain lock. Just like in the simulator.
A hand squeezes his arm. He turns. Rhonda’s face is drained of colour but her eyes are open and meet his. ‘You can do it. I know it.’
Her voice is barely a whisper and she only says those seven words, but it’s the first time she’s ever reassured him and it means more than she will ever know. He nods, then turns back to the windscreen.
He tightens his grip on the controller and focuses on the carrier. The runway looms before him, sways left. He corrects for it then reaches up, flicks a switch on the panel above. The landing gear lowers and locks with a clunk below him. It bleeds a little speed but not enough. They’re still travelling too fast. He pulls up
Atlantis’s
nose, washes off some of its velocity, then drops the nose and lets it run.
‘— and into the hole!’ Corey pulls the rope tight and knots it around the base of the chair. ‘Done!’
Judd eyes are locked on the ship. ‘Get to the viewport.’
Corey moves to it. ‘Then?’
‘When you see the drogue, throw the hook over the back of the wing.’
‘Okay!’ A moment. ‘What’s a drogue?’
‘Big parachute. You’ll know it when you see it.’
Corey nods and scales the rear instrument panel, pushes through the viewport.
The carrier is close. Judd works the controller, caresses
Atlantis
onwards, whispers his new mantra: ‘I believe I can and I trust the machine won’t break.’
His eyes flick to the end of the runway. A group of men works on either side but the barrier net isn’t up. He can’t worry about that now. He needs to get this thing down.
The carrier sways right. Judd finesses the controller, corrects the spacecraft’s trajectory, pulls up the nose, washes off some speed, then lets it run. It’s the only way to fly it that works. ‘I think I’ve nutted this out.’ He glances at Rhonda. Her eyes are closed and her head has rolled to the side. He takes it in, stricken. ‘Hold on, babs, we’re almost there.’ She doesn’t respond.
He turns back to the windscreen. The carrier is right in front of him. He works the controls, repeats his mantra: ‘I believe I can and I trust the machine won’t break. I —’
The ocean surges and the deck rises sharply, takes him by surprise. ‘Hold on!’
Atlantis
’s rear wheels spank the deck. Everyone is jolted forward. The airframe shudders and groans but doesn’t break. Judd reaches, flicks two switches.
Wind roars. Corey stands through the viewport, twirls the hook above his head like he’s a cowboy about to rope a steer.
The rudder splits and the chute explodes from the tail. That’ll be the drogue.’ Corey launches the hook with everything he’s got, shouts at it as it flies: ‘Go!’
The hook arcs across the wing, trails the blue rope behind it, then drops fast, thumps into the trailing edge of the wing. ‘No!’ Then it bounces up and over the edge and drops out of view.
Judd brings
Atlantis
’s nose down with another shuddering jolt. The airframe convulses, but doesn’t break. He looks down the runway; the barrier net is not up. He has less than 120 metres to stop this spacecraft before it dives into the ocean.
He plays the controls. Flaps up full. They wash off some speed but not enough. Drogue parachute deployed and tail-rudder air brake full open. They help but only a little. Wheel brakes on full. They screech in protest but don’t stop the spacecraft. It’s all down to Corey’s rope.
The hook slams into the runway. It bounces over the first arrestor cable, grazes over the second - and snags the last.
The rope stretches tight.
Atlantis
convulses. ‘Yes!’ Corey’s elated. The rope snaps and whips back at him. He ducks as it slashes overhead.
Atlantis
jolts - and races onwards. It’s slower, but not that much. Corey pivots in the viewport, looks down the runway to the surging ocean beyond.
Judd watches the end of the runway speed towards him, just 25 metres away. Men still work on either side but the barrier net’s not up. ‘Better get ready to swim —’
The barrier net flies up. It’s only six metres high but it’s there.
Atlantis’s
front landing gear ploughs into it and the spacecraft shudders and slows - but keeps moving. The net stretches and
Atlantis
reaches the edge of the deck. Judd can see nothing but the roiling sea before him.
The front landing gear drops over the side of the ship and the shuttle’s underside slams into the edge of the deck. Thermal tiles grind and tear as it slides towards the water below.
The net stretches.
Atlantis
shudders - then stops.
‘Out! Now!’ Corey jumps down from the viewport as Judd pivots out of his chair and undoes Rhonda’s belts. ‘Grab her shoulders!’