Chad watched the g-meter carefully for the critical moment. He had to time this just right: early enough to have the desired effect, but too late for Michael to diagnose what was happening and take countering action. He could feel the capsule lofting slightly under him, the force letting up slightly prior to falling into thicker air and starting the second g-load.
Now!
He reached out with his left hand and flicked the switch to take spacecraft control away from the guidance computer. He was holding the hand controller in his right, and he rocked it hard sideways, towards his leg, commanding a turn. Small thrusters on the hull fired in response, and the capsule began to spin up to the left, like a slow-turning top.
Michael was alarmed. “What are you seeing?”
Chad put incredulity into his voice. “Did you miss it? Our beta was building rapidly! I’ve taken over for now, getting ready to go to Program 66 for ballistic.”
Michael stared at the displays. Our sideslip built up? Shit! How did I miss that? He flipped the page in his checklist to the backup ballistic procedures. “Okay, I’m with you, Chad, on 2-6.” He quickly thought about it. “With bad beta, though, I recommend against program ballistic, and that puts us in the starred block for manual EMS.”
As Chad had expected, Michael was reacting just like they’d trained. “Copy, but let’s try Program 66, to give the computer another chance. If no joy, I’ll just take over manually again.”
Michael weighed the odds. “Okay, agreed. I’m watching.”
Chad released the hand controller and steadied his arm under the g-load as his finger poked at the small keyboard. Michael confirmed—“I see P66”—and Chad pushed the Proceed button. Their eyes locked onto the Entry Monitoring Systems panel.
Michael rapidly thought ahead. The ship was slowly rolling now, no longer generating continuous lift along its flight path; it had gone from flying under control like an airplane to just falling, arcing downwards like a thrown baseball.
“Hold on!” he shouted, and waved a hand near Svetlana to make sure she realized there was a serious problem. They were about to fall steeper into the thicker air and endure a lot more g than planned. As they fell faster, that air was going to slow their forward speed even more as well. There was nothing he could do.
Pursuit was going to land short.
At Kaena Point, on a high, windy ridge at the western tip of Oahu, an Air Force domed radar tracking antenna detected the subtle change in Pursuit’s motion. The data was automatically sent via undersea cable to Mission Control in Houston, appearing as numbers on the screen at the re-entry Guidance Officer’s console.
“FLIGHT, GUIDO, the capsule’s off trajectory.” He watched for several seconds, listening to the rapid analysis in his headset from the experts in his back room. “We think it’s gone to ballistic mode.”
Damn! Gene Krantz thought. The weather briefer had talked about the rough sea state, and this meant the crew would be in the water longer than planned. “Copy, GUIDO, let me know when you have an updated splashdown location.” He turned to his communications officer. “INCO, let’s get the New Orleans that info ASAP.”
Ninety seconds later the teletype machine began clacking in the communications cabin of the New Orleans. The Petty Officer tore off the page while reading it and hustled to hand it to the XO. He silently read it and handed it to the Captain, who frowned.
“This is from your boys in Houston,” he said to the small group. “The capsule has gone into something called a backup ballistic mode, and is going to land short, apparently.” He turned to the helmsman and handed him the paper. “Make for those new coordinates, full speed.”
“How far short?” Kaz asked, evaluating causes for the unexpected change, already guessing the answer.
“About a hundred miles. We’ll be there in four hours. The helo will take about an hour or so.” He thought quickly. “XO, I don’t think they’ll have enough fuel now. Bring them aboard for a hot pit.”
The Captain turned to Al Shepard. “Admiral, this just escalated. The new splashdown site is way too near that Soviet ship. I’m going to send two helos so we can have a few extra personnel on-site until the New Orleans can get there. Who from your team do you want to go?”
“The doc, of course, and Kaz. We’ll need somebody on scene familiar with crew ops.”
Stepanov spoke for the first time that morning. “I must go too.”
The XO immediately shook his head and looked straight at the captain. “No way, Boss. We’ve already got all the skills we need, and Kaz is Navy-familiar. I don’t need an embassy bureaucrat getting in the way.” He glanced at Stepanov. “No offense.”