Burnout: the mystery of Space Shuttle STS-281 by Stephanie Osborn Page A
Authors: Stephanie Osborn
Tags: Science-Fiction
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had been handling some business over in the M&P Lab, and just got back to the bay. We're *still* investigating, but it looks like the crane cable jammed and initiated an oscillation. The vibrations shook loose the biggest chunk of P/L B door we had, on the crane. Mitch was just in the *wrong* place at the *wrong* time.
Re: Mitch checking this "airlock hatch hinge," no one here knows anything about it. There were *no* parts of the wreckage in the M&P Lab, *no* results of any testing, and *no* log of such a part having been found in any of the records. Let me know if you think it may have been another part and I will check.
Jack Woodard
WK41
MSFC
"Shit," Crash murmured, wincing. "The entire payload bay door came down on him? Damn. Poor guy." Then he paled, as he finished reading the rest of the email, and grasped its import. "Somebody stole the part," he realized. "Somebody stole the part, and erased the records of it. And then the only guy there who actually knows about it… dies. Oh, God." Another thought occurred to him, and he paled further. "Oh, dear God."
Crash hit "print mail" and laid the hard copy of the email on top of the stack of logs as he reached for the phone. He hit a much used speed dial number, and waited for an answer. "Gayle? Grab the fake records, throw some stuff in an overnight bag, and get the hell out here to the ranch--NOW."
* * * *
While he was waiting for Gayle to arrive, Crash went through the rest of his email. The notes from his publisher and literary agent were simple, enthusiastic, and gratifying reports on his novel sales. The NASA press releases were about the disaster investigation, and were, to Crash, old news.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subj: shuttle
Recvd 09:47 CDT Tu Jul 13
Hey Emmett Ray--
Just wanted to hear from you, big brother. Sally and I been kinda worried about ya. Let us hear from you when you can. Love ya.
L8r,
Jimmy
Reply To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Re: >shuttle
Hi Jim-Bob ;-)
Doing OK. Things are getting interesting. Take Sally and the kids and go on a long trip. Don't tell **anyone** where you're going. Not even me. Leave a.s.a.p. This is *not* a suggestion. #{ Love ya, kiddo. Stay safe.
Crash
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subj: Sorry
Recvd 15:04 CDT W Jul 14
Crash,
Sorry I wasn't able to tell you goodbye before I left, but I got drafted to be a special courier. I just heard about Mitch. That was just… *awful*. I think he had a wife and kids, too, didn't he? I was *so* sorry to hear. And now you've lost **two** friends in just a few days. Well, you haven't lost *me*. It was *good* to see you again, Crash. I'll personally make sure you get copies of the flight ops transcript and tape dub. Let me know if you need *anything* else. And if you just need to talk, I'm *always* available.
Lisa
Crash rolled his eyes at the suggestiveness of the message, and following his normal routine, dumped all his email to the printer, then purged the mail queue. Just then he heard the sound of tires on gravel, and Phantom, Crash's faithful, if somewhat far-ranging, black Labrador, began barking like an idiot. Glancing out the window, he saw Gayle's blue four wheel drive pulling up in the twilight. She parked under the big live oak beside the driveway.
Crash headed out the front door. "Need any help with your things, Gayle?" he called.
* * * *
Gayle looked up from reading the email. "Oh, dear Lord. And you think…"
Crash nodded. "Mitch didn't die in an accident. And now you know about the faked medical records. So…"
Gayle went white to the lips. She swayed, light-headed, and Crash steadied her swiftly. "Sit down," he murmured, easing her down onto the black leather couch behind her. "You okay, sweetheart?"
The flight surgeon glanced in apprehension at the dark windows. "No, I'm scared witless," she admitted honestly. "Crash, what's going on? What happened to Atlantis , that all this is going down?"
"I don't know,
Re: Mitch checking this "airlock hatch hinge," no one here knows anything about it. There were *no* parts of the wreckage in the M&P Lab, *no* results of any testing, and *no* log of such a part having been found in any of the records. Let me know if you think it may have been another part and I will check.
Jack Woodard
WK41
MSFC
"Shit," Crash murmured, wincing. "The entire payload bay door came down on him? Damn. Poor guy." Then he paled, as he finished reading the rest of the email, and grasped its import. "Somebody stole the part," he realized. "Somebody stole the part, and erased the records of it. And then the only guy there who actually knows about it… dies. Oh, God." Another thought occurred to him, and he paled further. "Oh, dear God."
Crash hit "print mail" and laid the hard copy of the email on top of the stack of logs as he reached for the phone. He hit a much used speed dial number, and waited for an answer. "Gayle? Grab the fake records, throw some stuff in an overnight bag, and get the hell out here to the ranch--NOW."
* * * *
While he was waiting for Gayle to arrive, Crash went through the rest of his email. The notes from his publisher and literary agent were simple, enthusiastic, and gratifying reports on his novel sales. The NASA press releases were about the disaster investigation, and were, to Crash, old news.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subj: shuttle
Recvd 09:47 CDT Tu Jul 13
Hey Emmett Ray--
Just wanted to hear from you, big brother. Sally and I been kinda worried about ya. Let us hear from you when you can. Love ya.
L8r,
Jimmy
Reply To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Re: >shuttle
Hi Jim-Bob ;-)
Doing OK. Things are getting interesting. Take Sally and the kids and go on a long trip. Don't tell **anyone** where you're going. Not even me. Leave a.s.a.p. This is *not* a suggestion. #{ Love ya, kiddo. Stay safe.
Crash
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subj: Sorry
Recvd 15:04 CDT W Jul 14
Crash,
Sorry I wasn't able to tell you goodbye before I left, but I got drafted to be a special courier. I just heard about Mitch. That was just… *awful*. I think he had a wife and kids, too, didn't he? I was *so* sorry to hear. And now you've lost **two** friends in just a few days. Well, you haven't lost *me*. It was *good* to see you again, Crash. I'll personally make sure you get copies of the flight ops transcript and tape dub. Let me know if you need *anything* else. And if you just need to talk, I'm *always* available.
Lisa
Crash rolled his eyes at the suggestiveness of the message, and following his normal routine, dumped all his email to the printer, then purged the mail queue. Just then he heard the sound of tires on gravel, and Phantom, Crash's faithful, if somewhat far-ranging, black Labrador, began barking like an idiot. Glancing out the window, he saw Gayle's blue four wheel drive pulling up in the twilight. She parked under the big live oak beside the driveway.
Crash headed out the front door. "Need any help with your things, Gayle?" he called.
* * * *
Gayle looked up from reading the email. "Oh, dear Lord. And you think…"
Crash nodded. "Mitch didn't die in an accident. And now you know about the faked medical records. So…"
Gayle went white to the lips. She swayed, light-headed, and Crash steadied her swiftly. "Sit down," he murmured, easing her down onto the black leather couch behind her. "You okay, sweetheart?"
The flight surgeon glanced in apprehension at the dark windows. "No, I'm scared witless," she admitted honestly. "Crash, what's going on? What happened to Atlantis , that all this is going down?"
"I don't know,
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