Knight Rider 2000
From the Stars
Written by
Scott Kirkessner
Technical Assistance
Laura Tenorio
Based upon KNIGHT RIDER
Created by
Glen A. Larson
Original KNIGHT RIDER 2000 Concept by
Rob Hedden
New concept by
Scott Kirkessner
After FLAG’s shut down,
Bonnie has accepted an unprecedented offer from NASA to join their team of
engineers. However, on the 23rd
mission of the Eagle, Bonnie finds herself in the middle of an impending
disaster…
Rated PG for brief
language.
“Play the tape back again,” Bonnie said, absently reaching for her glasses. She watched the video just as intently as she did the first 44 times, and jotted down even more notes. The video was the same, over and over again. Bonnie watched the anomalous chunk fly downward and strike the leading edge, only to bounce off and return to the earth below.
“How heavy was it again?” she asked a young looking man sitting next to her.
The man took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. They hurt from watching the video so many times with Bonnie. “They’re estimating about two point five pounds,” he replied.
“Damn,” Bonnie replied, watching the chunk strike the leading edge once more. “What has your team found out?”
“We’re speculating damage to the tiles on that section of the wing,” replied Hank Folsom, the lead engineer of the Boeing Investigation Group.
“And possible equipment exposure?” Bonnie asked.
“Mmm-hmm,” Hank replied, “but that we can’t be so sure of as we are of the tile damages.”
“That’s what my team came up with too,” Bonnie said, pausing the tape.
The incident happened two days ago on the 16th. Bonnie and her team had been called in immediately after the event to determine what, if any, damage had occurred to the space shuttle Eagle, NASA’s oldest shuttle in the remaining fleet of four. A piece of foam insulation from the massive external fuel tank had broken loose and struck the leading edge of the Eagle’s wing.
Most of the engineers at Boeing and NASA went into immediate panic mode once the collision was announced. Videos of the Eagle’s launch and the foam collision were immediately made available to both groups of engineers, and also the NASA press pool. The news agencies were following the incident very closely, with a plethora of so-called experts on air explaining what happened and what could happen.
Bonnie refused to watch the reports, noting that the “experts” weren’t on her end of the incident, working endless hours to find whatever implications the chunk of foam might have caused to the shuttle. The news agencies had contacted her and Hank countless times to get their opinions on record, but both team leaders had agreed that no one needed opinions, they needed results.
“Could the wheel well have damage?” Bonnie asked.
“It’s possible,” Hank said. “Extensive damage if you ask me. The exposure and the pressures could blow out the tires, or cause over pressurization in the wheel well itself…”
“Which would cause a gear door blowout sending the door into the slipstream, removing the chance for a normal landing and adding large amounts of drag,” Bonnie finished.
“That is if the heat-shield tiles are undamaged and they survive re-entry,” Hank added.
Bonnie took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. She could feel a headache coming. It was slowly growing at the back of her head and traveling to rest behind her eyes. “We need to get our teams together and put these findings into charts. The Incident Investigation Team will be calling a meeting soon to present official findings to the Mission Management Team.”
Hank found a rare opportunity to smile. “No one can say that the people at NASA aren’t team players,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.
Bonnie smiled for the first time since the incident happened. She couldn’t get it out of her mind ever since she got a phone call from a frantic engineer from her staff saying that the Eagle was damaged after liftoff. She noted the date when she got the phone call—just a few days before the 17th anniversary of the Challenger disaster. Since that phone call, she had been working days and nights with her team of engineers and Hank’s team of engineers from Boeing to determine what problems could arise.
“Okay,” Bonnie said, straightening her papers, “let’s call it a night, and get our teams together tomorrow and get ready for the meetings.”
Hank stood up and stretched. “Do you think the panel will be open minded?”
“Oh yes, I’m sure they will. Why wouldn’t they be?”
“No, no, no!” the man barked. “That is a two pound piece of foam. There is no way in hell it will damage those tiles.” The bullheaded man was Donald Reme, NASA’s shuttle program manager.
Bonnie slammed her hands on the table and stood up. “It’s a two pound piece of foam that is traveling twice the speed of sound, if not faster, and is compacted so much due to the G-forces, it would be like dropping a cinder block on a hardboiled egg!”
Bonnie was alone in the meeting after Hank and Boeing had unofficially pulled out. It was the fourth meeting of the Incident Investigation Team to determine the official results of the impact. Hank and his team withdrew after the third meeting when it became apparent that NASA was not listening to their findings. Bonnie had remained in hopes of persuading them to see the reality and extent of the situation.
“Dr. Barstow,” Reme replied, “your objections and observations have been noted, but it is the determination of this panel that the foam anomaly has had no damaging effects on the shuttle. This has been a… very tiring week for all of us. The board’s analysis…”
“Sir, we’re at risk of losing seven astronauts,” Bonnie said, interrupting, “if they attempt re-entry, we could be looking at a disaster!” Bonnie was trying her hardest to protest the decision. She looked over at Dan Rogers, the mission flight director, who was quietly sitting at the table with his hand under his chin. Bonnie gave a subtle signal with her eyes asking, if not begging Dan to back her up. He replied with a small shake of his head.
Reme raised his voice, intent of finishing his statement. “This board’s analysis will be presented to the STS Management Team, Monday, January 27th. Thank you, gentlemen.”
Bonnie hurriedly gathered her papers left the meeting room with Dan Rogers hot on her heels.
“Bonnie…” he started.
“Why didn’t you back me up in there? You know I’m right,” Bonnie said, turning around to confront the flight director.
Rogers thrust his hand into his pockets and lowered his head. “Bonnie,” he said, “you know that board is as bullheaded as they come. We don’t even know for sure if it did cause any damage.”
“If we schedule an EVA to do an external viewing…”
Rogers cut her off. “Bonnie, if we tell them that their heat tiles could be damaged, it could compromise the entire mission. They’re going to be up there freaking out about whether or not they will live through this mission or not.”
“What’s more important to you, Dan? Completing mission objectives, or the value of a human life? God help you if their blood ends up on your hands,” Bonnie said as she turned and walked down what seemed to be an endless hallway.
A familiar engine stirred Bonnie from her trance as she sat on the hill overlooking Johnson Space Center. She turned around and watched Kevin Williams get out of his white Chevy S10. She had always regarded herself as a mentor of sorts to Kevin ever since she returned to the Foundation two years ago. She never wanted it to seem that she was taking over his duties as someone in charge, but some people definitely perceived it that way. She had never bothered to ask Kevin how he felt.
“I got your message,” Kevin said, sitting down on the grass next to her, “some of the techie webboards have been talking about this issue.”
“I don’t know what to do, Kevin. They’re going to Mission Management on Monday with their findings and final decision,” Bonnie said in a guilty sounding voice.
“Which is?” Kevin asked.
“They determined that the chunk of foam did not damage the shuttle when it struck the wing’s leading edge,” she replied.
Kevin scoffed. “That’s bullshit. There is no way that the foam couldn’t have damaged the shuttle.”
“Try telling them that,” Bonnie said, “they’re probably shredding my reports as we speak. What the hell am I supposed to do now?”
“You’re asking me? This is a switch. I’m always coming to you with the questions,” Kevin said, trying to crack a smile. He realized his attempt at humor was null. “I’d present myself with two options. Leave NASA before the storm hits. Or become a thorn in their side, contact and email everyone you can and make sure they know that any kind of danger, no matter how big or small is remotely possible.”
“NASA’s temporary anyway. Once we get the Foundation…”
Kevin interrupted her. “The Foundation? Bonnie, the Foundation needs to be the last thing on your mind! The Foundation’s been shut down, maybe for good. I’m sorry, but we need to think of that in the long run! We’ve been helping lives with the Foundation for three years. You have the opportunity to save seven more.”
Bonnie nodded and bit her lower lip. If she added the years, she would have been with the Foundation for over a decade, and had that comforting job torn away from her now three times; once on her own volitions, twice against. It was hard to find a job that didn’t follow the Foundation’s goals of serving and protecting the innocent through non-violent, but non-orthodox solutions. When NASA extended an offer to bring her aboard as an engineering consultant, it was an offer she found hard to refuse.
It was also the only offer.
News had circulated about the Foundation’s last case and its pending investigation by the Department of Justice and the Senate Judiciary Committee. It had alienated most of the think tanks, Research One universities, independent technology corporations, and government contractors. This is why Bonnie was more than surprised when NASA, a government organization, offered the job to her.
“Do you think they aren’t listening because I worked for the Foundation?” Bonnie asked.
Kevin shook his head. “I think they aren’t listening because they have more interests in their mind about mission goals and objectives instead of alerting the astronauts that they might not return home.”
“I hope you’re right,” Bonnie said.
Kevin stood up and brushed the grass off of his bottom. He extended his hand and helped Bonnie get up too. “I know I’m right. You have the whole weekend to start writing and get this out to more people in NASA. It’s the only chance you have.”
The smell of coffee permeated Bonnie’s apartment. She had been living in Houston for nine months since NASA paid the expenses to move her from Seattle, and hardly any of her boxes had been unpacked. However, tonight, she decided to dig out her coffee maker.
Bonnie took a sip of the too strong coffee and read over the memo on the computer again. “To whom it may concern. This electronic memorandum is being sent with the utmost sense of urgency to alert you to a potential dangerous and deadly situation aboard the Eagle.
“Two experienced teams from Boeing and NASA were assembled shortly after the incident took place on 16 January 2003, and both teams collectively reached the decision that possible damage could have occurred due to the impact of the piece of foam from the external fuel tank. Unfortunately, NASA’s Incident Investigation Team dismissed these accounts and the official findings.
“While none of us want to think of worst-case scenarios, it is extremely possible to lose all seven astronauts in re-entry if any of the heat tiles are damaged, as stated in the Boeing/NASA team reports. Attached in this email are the official findings of the Boeing/NASA team. I am passing them along to you and urging for a reconsideration in the final decision.”
Bonnie tensed; knowing the serious ramifications the email could have on her career. As a scientist, the email could blacklist her severely, due to her deciding to breach an established chain of command. But something had to be done! No one was listening to her. This was her one and only shot to make a difference. The email seemed so short, but it made the point—hopefully. She held her breath as she pressed the SEND button, and started the process of waiting for a new decision.
Bonnie was watching the video of the launch and the impending collision again. She absently held a pen in her hand over an empty notepad and sat in a trance-like state while the video played. She didn’t sleep at all last night, just stared at the ceiling thinking about the email and what kind of shockwaves she sent through NASA.
“Dr. Barstow,” a voice said, breaking her from her trance.
Bonnie turned around and saw it was Correna, one of the more timid engineers on her team. “Yes?” she acknowledged.
“Dan Rogers is calling for you down at Mission Control,” Correna said.
Bonnie took a deep breath and didn’t let it go for a long time. She simply nodded and left the office. The walk from her office to Mission Control seemed endless, and her heart begin to beat faster when she saw Rogers pacing in the hallway just outside of Mission Control.
“What in the hell is this?” Rogers asked, flashing a printed copy of the email.
“What does it look like? It’s an electronic memo,” Bonnie coolly replied.
“You sent this to the chief and blind-copied me. Who else got this email?” After Bonnie stayed silent, Rogers repeated himself, more forcefully this time. “Who else got this email?”
“A few other division heads, some people over at JPL, the president of Boeing, some engineers over there too, and…” Bonnie trailed off. She wondered to herself if she should reveal the last person to receive her memorandum.
“And who?” Rogers asked. His patience was running extremely thin.
“Cheney,” she said.
“Cheney!” Rogers said, outraged. “You sent this to the vice president?”
“He is the head of America’s manned space program, isn’t he?” Bonnie asked.
“No shit! But I don’t think that means he needs to be subjected to memos filled with unwarranted and unproven speculations,” he said. Rogers clutched the email even tighter and used his free hand to run his fingers through his hair. “Christ,” he mumbled to himself.
“Unwarranted and unproven? Dan, give me a break. You’ve seen that video as many times as I did, you’ve seen my findings and my reports and listened to those who support me. Instead, you choose to disregard everything in order to complete the mission objectives. Sorry, but no matter how many projects you complete, you’ll still fail the mission if those people up there die!”
Rogers had enough. He threw down the paper and grabbed Bonnie by the shoulders, slamming her against the wall. He put his face almost two inches from hers, and lowered his voice. “This is enough, Dr. Barstow. The findings have already been reported and the decision has been made. We’ve informed the crew that no damage has occurred to the orbiter. Get it through your head that this is my fucking mission, and I am not going be dragged down in flames with you—and neither will our astronauts. This nice memo you wrote is going to cause a fit in this program and could jeopardize everything that NASA stands for. I have to go and do damage control and undo the storm you created. If this stunt doesn’t get your ass fired, I don’t know what will. Those astronauts and the Eagle are landing at Kennedy this Saturday.”
Rogers let go of Bonnie, stepped over the crumpled up piece of paper and returned to Mission Control.
Bonnie sat down on the nearby bench, stunned from Rogers’ diatribe. She looked to her left and saw the same endless hallway facing her again. It was mocking her, showing her a path without any answers at the end. A clearing of a human throat caught her attention to her right. Standing in the hallway was NASA pilot Victor Raymond, the CAPCOM astronaut for the mission.
Victor picked up the email and sat down next to Bonnie. “I got word of this from a few people,” he said.
“What kind of word?” Bonnie asked.
“The rethinking kind,” Victor replied, “I know Rogers can be… extremely focused at times, but he means well. He’s probably the best flight director I’ve served with.”
“What do you think about this whole situation?”
“I watched the video too, over and over again, zoomed at different magnifications, and from different angles. The way the leading edge was hit has to have affected the Eagle in one way or another.”
“So you agree with the findings?”
“I do,” Victor replied, “but I also have come to realize that if the orbiter was damaged, they have no way to get home, and we have no contingency plan to send up another shuttle and transport back.”
“You don’t or you can’t?” Bonnie asked. “I may have worked here for a few months, but I know what NASA can and can’t do, and one thing you can’t do is prepare a launch so quickly.”
Victor nodded. “So it’s a little bit of both then,” he said. “Bonnie, believe me when I say that I want nothing more to tell those seven people up there that they may not have a chance—but the top brass made the decision already. Bonnie, I’ve been up there,” he said, pointing his finger up, “I know how the stress of completing mission objectives gets to the astronauts. Hell, when I was up there on Atlantis four months ago, they didn’t even tell me my kid broke his arm until touchdown. The panic that will sweep the Eagle and this nation will be overwhelming. Everyone will be trying to find ways to get those astronauts home. Congress will put the pressure on us to discontinue the space program…”
“You’re just like the rest of them. There are seven human lives at risk, and you just don’t want to deal with the massive repercussions of telling them that they might not make it through this mission,” Bonnie said.
Victor lowered his head in acceptance and defeat. The words he wanted to say weren’t forming correctly in his mind. He was trying to fish for something that would defend his position even further. He couldn’t. “I gotta go, Bonnie,” he said, “I hope you’re wrong,” he said, getting up and walking back towards Mission Control.
“So do I,” Bonnie mumbled to herself.
“This is bullshit, Hank,” Bonnie said, reading over some papers. Shortly after her altercation with Rogers, Bonnie discovered a message on her voice mail from Hank, who had some important information from Boeing and needed to meet with her ASAP.
“Tell me about it,” Hank said, handing Bonnie a fourth sheet, “you shouldn’t even be seeing these, at least not yet.”
“These are dated tomorrow,” Bonnie said, noting the Friday, January 31st date in the header.
Hank nodded, “They’re declaring a complete stance of ‘non-involvement,’” he said.
“Why would Boeing go on record and divorce themselves from this issue?”
“While you were on your email spree here at Johnson, a bunch of us at Boeing were doing the same thing. But no one is listening to us,” Hank said.
Bonnie read some bulleted points in the four-page memo. “So this is Boeing’s official ‘the-hell-with-you’ to NASA?”
“To put it mildly,” Hank replied.
“God, I would love to be working there right about now,” Bonnie said.
“You and several hundred other engineers from NASA.”
“Can I keep these?” Bonnie asked, nodding to the papers.
Hank nodded. “Those are copies for you. You’ll probably need them…. You know, just in case.”
Bonnie knew that Hank was referencing to possible court involvement if anything went wrong during re-entry; a scenario she hoped she would not have to be involved with. “Are you going to be here for the re-entry Saturday?”
“Yes,” Hank said, “I don’t want to be, but I’ll be there.”
“Save me a seat in the gallery,” Bonnie said.
“You won’t be at a terminal in Mission Control?”
Bonnie shook her head. “If something happens, there is no way in hell I want to be behind any kind of computer that’s connected to that shuttle.”
“Yeah…” Bonnie said to Kevin into her cell-phone, “No, no problems with the shuttle. They’re about to begin re-entry,” Bonnie was too anxious to hear what Kevin was saying. She checked her watch and saw it was 7:50am. “Kev, I gotta get back, they should be crossing into the US soon… Yeah… I’ll be in touch,” Bonnie said, hanging up her phone and opening the door into the viewing gallery.
She sat down next to Hank, who was leaning forward in his chair. “What did I miss?” she asked.
“They detected an unusual temperature rise as the shuttle was approaching the California coast,” Hank replied.
“Where was it?” Bonnie asked.
“They didn’t say,” Hank replied, “but….” Hank trailed off when he heard Victor’s voice speak. Something didn’t feel right.
“Eagle, Houston, we see your tire pressure messages and we did not copy your last,” Victor said.
The commander’s garbled voice came over the frequency. “Roger…. Buh…” Static quickly followed the incomplete sentence.
Bonnie sat on the edge of her seat waiting for the commander’s voice to return. She didn’t expect to hear the overlapping voices of the other people in Mission Control suddenly alerting the flight director to off-nominal events.
“Flight, I’m reading another temperature rise,” one controller said.
“Flight, we have a loss of telemetry,” another soon chimed in.
The controller’s voices soon grew more panicked as more problems soon found their way to their terminals. “Calm down people,” Rogers said, “this could be heat and gravitational interference.”
“Flight, we have a complete loss of signal,” a third controller said.
Rogers was about to explain away the loss of signal when he found Bonnie by his side. “LOS is too soon,” she said, “something’s wrong.”
“You don’t know that,” Rogers replied.
“You don’t know that everything is all right,” Bonnie quickly shot back. She kept her gaze on Rogers until a red light illuminated on a telephone. It was a special phone line that was rarely used except in the event of an emergency.
Rogers hesitated to pick it up, fearful of who was on the other end. He reluctantly grabbed the phone and answered. Bonnie watched the color literally drain from his face. After what seemed like an eternity, Rogers managed to mutter “Yes sir,” and hung up the phone. “Flight TC,” he said, “Flight TC,” he repeated.
“TC Flight,” a voice replied.
“Lock the doors,” Rogers said. He stood up and looked over at Bonnie with a terrified look in his eyes. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said into his headset, “we are officially declaring a Space Shuttle Contingency. I just received a call from Edwards Air Force Base, the Eagle was observed by civilians upon re-entry over Northern California. Eye witness accounts reported the shuttle breaking up.”
Bonnie gasped and brought her hand to her mouth upon hearing the news. Everyone in Mission Control began operating on the contingency plan, locking down their systems and enabling the immediate archiving of all available data. Bonnie looked at Rogers again. He was operating on the contingency plan too, but was completely stunned. “Dan….” she quietly said. Bonnie was as stunned as he was, if not more. She was right all along.
Rogers looked up when Bonnie uttered his name. “Get your teams together. Go, Bonnie,” he said. He could see the terror in her eyes. “Look, you were right and I was wrong, but let’s get the contingency plan underway. Go. Go!”
Bonnie looked up at the viewing gallery, where Hank was standing at the window. She signaled him to meet her in the hallway and ran towards the door.
“We were right,” Hank said, numb from the shock.
“I know,” Bonnie replied, beginning to walk quickly and then move into a jog, “we declared a contingency, so we need to get our teams and resources together now.”
The two engineers ran down the endless hallway that constantly mocked Bonnie. She had the confirmation she needed, she was right, and now seven astronauts were dead. But upon reaching the end of the hallway, and being enveloped by the massive double doors, Bonnie found herself with less answers than she ever had before.
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