The Titicaca Effect

by Richard N. Tooker

  “We have a problem, Titicaca. One of the explosive bolts didn’t fire, and we haven’t completely separated from the thruster frame.” Freeman could hear the voices of the other astronauts in the background as they fed information to the command pilot. “We’ve gone into a slow roll.”

  “Confirmed, Mr. Freeman,” the flight director shouted. “Looks like a rate of one revolution every 90 seconds.”

  “Try it again, Pancho,” Freeman said.

  “Roger.”

  “Wait!” the flight director interrupted. “Belay that! If they’re in an uncontrolled roll, the thruster frame might run into them after it separates.”

  “Hold it, Pancho, don’t do anything yet,” Freeman said quickly. He nodded to the flight director to retake control of communication with the spacecraft, but he made sure that the kill switch to the newsfeed was still on.

  “Roger. Not firing until instructed,” Segurola confirmed.

  “They have to stop the roll before they try again,” Stout said. “The composites on the skin of the spacecraft are next-generation ceramics and far tougher than the tiles used on the space shuttle, but we don’t want to take the chance of damaging them, however remote that chance might be, if there’s another option. If they did somehow get damaged, we could be looking at another Columbia.”

  “Can we use the thrusters on the frame to stop the roll?” Freeman asked. They had been joined by the flight director and two senior engineers from McDonnell-Douglas. One of the engineers answered, “I don’t think so. We can fire the thrusters individually, but their burn rate is too fast, and not nearly precise enough to do the job. There’s a very good chance that trying to use the frame thrusters will just make the situation worse. If they get into a faster roll than they’re already in, it could damage the lifting body or disorient the crew. Either one would be very bad.”

  “They’ll have to use the maneuvering thrusters on Condor One,” Stout said.

  “Right,” the engineer replied. “And they’ll need to be very careful not to overcompensate for the roll. It’s important that they correct it a little at a time.”

  “Do they have enough fuel?” Freeman asked.

  “Shouldn’t be a problem,” the second engineer answered, “they have fuel to spare. Of course, they’ll need it to back away from the frame once they separate.”

  “And how do you propose they separate?” the flight director asked.

  “I’m not sure,” the engineer replied. “We have to figure that out. But nothing’s going to happen until they stop that roll. Why don’t we start talking them through that while we figure out what to do about separation?” The engineers huddled while the flight director talked to the astronauts.

  “Condor Two, we’re working on the problem. In the meantime, we have to stop that roll. Is the rotation bothering you?”

  “No. It’s a very slow roll. I think we’re OK. Has this ever happened before?” Segurola asked.

  “You mean explosive bolts misfiring? I’ve never heard of it happening. It’s pretty basic technology, and they’ve been in use for decades. Don’t worry, Pancho, we’ll work through this. Everything will be all right.”

  “I’m not worried. I just want this to go well. How do we stop the roll?”

  “You’re going to have to use the maneuvering thrusters. Aim the thrust directly into the rotation, and take it slow, you’ve got lots of time. Use very short bursts and then gauge the effect carefully before you fire again. It’s very important that you not overcompensate.”

  “Roger. I’m firing.” Segurola replied. A pause, then, “It’s working. No pitch or yaw, and the roll is slower.”

  “Good,” the flight director said. “Keep after it, and remember, a little bit at a time.”

  “Roger.”

  One of the engineers signaled for Freeman’s attention and he switched off. “Whattaya got?” Freeman asked.

  The engineer, frowning, said, “We don’t see any way to free the spacecraft from the frame without trying to fire the bolt again.”

  “Well, that’s a problem,” Stout interrupted. “Those bolts were set to go off in a very specific sequence so the frame would be propelled away from the spacecraft. It’s like the recoil from a gun. Without looking at it, there’s no way to tell which direction that recoil will push.”

  “We know that, Dr. Stout, but they have to separate somehow, and they can’t do that without either firing the bolt or manually releasing the clamp that it’s attached to. They sure can’t reenter the atmosphere dragging that frame with them.”

  “Wait a minute,” Freeman said. “There’s a way to manually release the clamp?”

  “It can be manually released, yes, but not from within the spacecraft. It would require an EVA.”

  “A spacewalk?” Freeman asked. “They can’t do a spacewalk.”

  “Actually, they could,” Stout said. “They’re wearing spacesuits.”

  “Now wait a minute, Thad,” Freeman said. “They haven’t trained for a spacewalk. There’s nothing in the flight plan that calls for an EVA, and as far as I know they wouldn’t even be able to get in and out of the spacecraft without assistance.”

  “They could,” one of the engineers said. “All they have to do is evacuate the air from the cabin and open the hatch. The one nearest the hatch could get out of the spacecraft without assistance, especially in a weightless environment. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

  “That would be Pancho,” Freeman said. “All right, he exits. How much air do they lose when they evacuate the cabin?”

  “Not enough to endanger the mission, unless he’s out there for a very long time.”

  “How far away from the hatch is the bolt that hasn’t fired? Shouldn’t he be tethered? As far as I know, they don’t have any kind of line that they could use for a tether.”

  “You’re right, there’s no way to tether him to the spacecraft,” Stout answered. “Normally, I’d be really worried that he might drift free and have no way to get back. But don’t forget that Condor Two is still in the thruster frame, which is a network of steel girders. There are lots of things to grab onto. I don’t think there’s any real danger of that happening, as long as he’s careful. He’ll have to make sure that he hand-walks across the thruster frame so that he has a firm grip on it with one hand at all times.”

  “Okay, once he’s out there, then what? How does he release the clamp to separate Condor Two from the thruster frame?” the flight director asked.

  The other engineer listening to the conversation had been typing a sequence of numbers into the computer. “I have it here,” he said. “This is a diagram of the explosive bolt assembly. It’s fairly simple. The bolts aren’t fastened to the skin of the spacecraft, that would create turbulence and friction problems on reentry. They’re actually on the thruster frame, and they secure a high-tensile-strength webbing that holds Condor Two in place. Fire the bolts, and the webbing falls away. Looks like the one that didn’t fire is holding a strap that’s secured across the aileron on the starboard wing. It’s held to the frame by three machine screws. If they have a Phillips screwdriver on board, that’s all he’ll need to release it.”

  “They have a complete set of tools,” the flight director said.

  “What’s the chance of an accidental explosion?” Freeman asked. “I mean, if he starts fooling with that thing, how does he keep it from going off?”

  “Well,” one of the engineers replied, “I think we can assume that since it didn’t go off when it was triggered, it’s a dud. If it didn’t fire when the circuit closed, it probably won’t fire when he tries to unscrew it.”

  “Probably?” Freeman said, his voice rising. “That’s not good enough! Christ, man, it could blow his hand off. Even if it didn’t, even the slightest compromise in his suit pressure would kill him!”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” Stout said, glancing at the telemetry scrolling across one of the video monitors at the front of the control room. “It looks like
they’ve about stopped the roll. A few more short bursts from the thrusters ought to do it. Once they’re motionless, I think they should try to trigger the explosive bolt again. If it goes off, it will probably create some movement, but the risk of damage to the spacecraft is far less than the risk to Pancho and the mission if that thing explodes while he’s working on it. If it works and it triggers some drift, they should be able to get out of the way before the thruster frame damages the skin of the spacecraft. But if it goes off while he’s working on it, the odds of it creating drift anyway are 100%, and we’d probably have a dead astronaut as well.”

  “Neither option makes me happy,” Freeman grumbled.

  “Me neither, Ty,” Stout answered. “but I don’t see any other options.”

  “They’ve stopped the roll,” the engineer announced, smiling. “They’re stable.”

  “Are we agreed on the strategy?” Freeman asked. “They try to fire the bolt again, and if it doesn’t fire he goes outside?”

  Stout and the engineers all nodded assent and the flight director switched on the communications link to Condor Two again.

  “OK, Pancho, we have a plan. First, we want you to try firing the bolt again. If it fires, you’ll have to be prepared to use the thrusters to correct any drift it might create to keep the thruster frame from hitting the spacecraft. Think you can do that?”

  “Not a problem,” Segurola responded. “I got pretty good at controlling the thrusters when we were stopping the roll. We should be able to back away from the frame if it starts to drift.” He paused, then said, “What if it doesn’t fire?”

  “If it doesn’t, you’re going to have to try an EVA to disconnect it manually.”

  There was brief pause as Segurola digested what the flight director had said, then he answered simply, “Roger that. Should I try to fire the bolt now?”

  “Whenever you’re ready.”

  “Firing,” the pilot responded, then said, “No joy, Titicaca. Nothing happened. Looks like I’m going for a walk.”

  “All right, Pancho, you guys start securing anything floating loose in the cabin and get a Phillips screwdriver out of the toolkit. I’m turning you over to the engineers, who will talk you through depressurization and getting in and out of the spacecraft.” He nodded to the lead McDonnell-Douglas engineer, who took over the conversation.

  While that conversation was taking place, Freeman had switched on the link to the presidential palace and explained what was happening in orbit to Maldonado, who listened without comment, not wanting to interfere with the people who were working to correct the problem. Freeman then went to the press room to conduct an impromptu news conference to explain the situation – and the solution – to the reporters and to the worldwide audience.

  By the time he finished the brief news conference, Condor Two had been in orbit less than an hour, and preparations for the spacewalk to free the spacecraft from the thruster frame were complete. As the cabin was being depressurized, the flight director talked to Segurola about the EVA plan.

  “Pancho, unless one of you smuggled a rope aboard without telling anyone, there’s no way to tether you to Condor Two. That means you’re going to have to be very careful that you never lose contact with either the frame or the spacecraft. You absolutely, positively need to avoid drifting free. If you do, you won’t be able to get back. Never release your grip with one hand until you’re sure you have a firm grip with the other.”

  “I had already figured that out,” Segurola replied. “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful. I’ve wanted to go into space all my life, but I sure as hell don’t want to stay here. Give us a couple of minutes more in the depressurization sequence, and we’ll be ready to open the hatch.”

  “Roger,” the flight director said, nodding to the engineer, who continued to talk Segurola though the procedure he would use to release the clamp holding the explosive bolt assembly.

  Six minutes later, Segurola unbuckled, pushed free from his command seat in the spacecraft, and pulled himself through the open hatch. He paused as soon as he cleared the airlock, stunned by the view of the earth 22,000 miles away. It wasn’t until one of the other astronauts asked him if he was all right that he recovered his composure. Being careful to maintain a firm grip on the hatch, he reached for the nearest steel girder on the thruster frame and pulled himself free of the spacecraft. Satisfied that he was secure, he began to slowly hand-walk his way across the metal framework to a spot that would put him within reach of the unfired bolt. He could see the target clearly, a loop of webbing that encircled the wingtip, still securely fastened to the frame.

  The ground crew at Lake Titicaca could hear him breathing heavily from the effort. One of the oddities about space travel that the public does not fully grasp is the difficulty of extra-vehicular activity. Intuitively, it seems that being weightless should make everything easier. The problem is, a spacesuit well-built enough to protect a human from the vacuum and intense cold of space is inherently stiff and bulky, making any kind of movement hard. Add to that the emotional pressure of knowing that the slightest mistake can spell instant death, and you’re left with a task that is anything but easy.

  Nevertheless, the Bolivian pilot traversed the 20 feet from the open hatch to the unfired bolt in a little less than eight minutes.

  “OK, I can see the screws I need to release,” he said without preamble. “Starting on the first one.”

  The control room was dead silent as everyone listened intently, waiting for Segurola to report. More than two minutes passed with nothing said, just the sound of more heavy breathing and an occasional grunt as the astronaut struggled to free the machine screws from the steel frame. Finally, the flight director could wait no longer.

  “Pancho, you want to give us an update? We’re all turning blue down here from holding our breath.”

  “I’d give a month’s pay for an electric screwdriver,” Segurola responded. “Two of the screws are out, but the third one was pretty tight. I just now got it to turn. I’ll have it out in a few seconds.”

  He paused briefly, then said, “Got it! It’s out and the bolt assembly is free from the frame. Now I just have to maneuver the webbing off the aileron.” There was another few seconds of heavy breathing.

  “Titicaca, Condor Two is free.”

  The tension finally released, everyone in the control room and in the press room looking in grinned, laughed, clapped or just breathed a sigh of relief. People all over the world, who had been watching the drama unfold via a television image that the Russian astronaut had managed through the open hatch and listening via the audio feed that Freeman had decided to restore, did the same thing.

  “Pancho, is there any drift?” the flight director asked.

  “None that I can see,” Segurola answered. “Condor Two looks like it’s just hanging there. There’s no movement at all. I also gave the aileron a thorough inspection. There’s no damage.”

  “Where is the bolt assembly? You need to be careful with it. It could still go off.”

  “No danger of that. I gave it pretty good shove and it’s floating away from here. I’d guess it’s 200 yards away now, and moving pretty fast. By the time I get back inside and we repressurize, it will be long gone.”

  “Alright,” the flight director answered. “Time for you to get back into Condor Two. If it’s just hanging there, you’ll need to be careful not to bump it too hard so the mass of your body causes it to start moving within the frame until you’re inside and can control the movement with the thrusters. How much distance do you have to cover to reach it?”

  “Just about ten feet now,” the astronaut said. “I’m right over the hatch. I’ll be floating free for a second, but there’s no chance I can miss it.”

  “Take it slow.”

  “Roger.” There was silence for a few seconds, then, “Titicaca, I have hold of the hatch. Maneuvering inside now.” The television feed jerked back and forth as the Russian astronaut wrestled the camera back into the cabin to
make room for Segurola to reenter the spacecraft cabin feet first. The picture went blank as the camera was turned off for stowing.

  Almost a minute more of heavy breathing was all that the control room heard as Segurola worked to reposition himself in the command seat, buckle up, and close the hatch.

  “Control, I’m in and we’re secure. Repressurizing.”

  “Pancho, that’s great. Believe it or not, if you can use the thrusters to put some distance between you and the frame within the next twenty minutes, we’ll still be on flight plan.” One of the engineers passed the flight director a note. He read it, then said, “We’re going to skip most of the near-earth orbit activity, though, and cut your trip short. You have plenty of air, but we want to maintain a safe margin. You’ll be home a few hours early.”