Author's Note: Yay! Reviews! Thanks everyone. So, keep Iverson and something interesting with Zimsky? I can probably do that. Just don't think you're saying goodbye to Serge. He was my favorite character. [hugs Serge] ^_^
Chapter Three
Endeavor Landing
Space, Endeavor-Houston
Thousands of miles above the Earth, the space shuttle Endeavor made her last arrangements before returning home. The crew was settled tightly in their seats, all save commander Iverson. Major Rebecca Childs set the gears and computers so that all was ready upon his entrance.
"Tim, I'm coming in a little hot. Give me some drag, will you?"
"Roger that." responded Tim.
Iverson slid smoothly into his seat beside Childs and readied himself.
"We are in attitude and ready for an entry interface." Childs stated, her eyes surveying the control panel one last time.
"Nice work, Major." Stated Iverson, leaning in and making some adjustments. "I have the controls now for E.I."
"I could take us in." suggested Childs with a slight tone of hopefulness in her voice.
"You could," Iverson laughed, strapping his belts. "but you won't."
"I'm ready for this, Bob." she added.
"Oh, no you're not Beck." he smiled. "You're trained, and you're certified doesn't make you the commander. And the commander lands the bird. You got to be the youngest person ever in space. You should say, thank you, be happy. Now."
Beck smiled. Iverson was like a father to her, but his disallowance of her taking charge was always entertaining. At least she made it appear so. Iverson was sure it was also slightly frustrating for her, and he felt bad keeping her from what he knew she could do so well. Perhaps even better than himself.
"Endeavor, Houston, at this time we show you go for reentry."
"Houston, Endeavor descending through 400,000 feet coming upon entry interface." Childs responded to Houston.
"Endeavor, this is Flight." called an aged woman through her receiver. "Weren't able to annoy the commander into letting you bring her in this time?"
"That's a negative, Stick." Childs smiled. "I'll have to be more annoying next time."
"Is that even possible?"
Tim could be heard laughing in the back seat.
"Endeavor, we see you in good reentry config."
"Roger, Houston." came Childs.
Endeavor soared through the icy blackness of space. As she reentered the atmosphere the heat build up caused the apparition of flames around her tale. The crew prepared itself for landing.
"Advise." came Tim's voice over the intercom at Houston.
"I'm seeing those plasma trails now." Iverson confirmed.
"All right. Mark 24 1/2, so a minute to air."
"I don't believe in belts." Childs came in. "Just get me through the Earth's atmosphere in this spaceship." The signal died for a moment as they entered the atmosphere. All those at Houston waited patiently.
"Com dropout."
Endeavor entered the atmosphere. The plasma trails dispersed almost immediately and the ship angled itself for a landing.
"Start the I Com."
"Let's wait till the..." Iverson's voice could be heard over the intercom once more.
"Com restored."
But something was still wrong. Endeavor was off on her landing. The RE-ENTRY DEVIATION ALERT flashed red on the screen. SHUTTLE REENTRY OFF BY 129.0276 MILES.
"Quiet!" Stickley demanded.
"We are out of position here." Iverson frowned as the image of Los Angeles came to view in his window.
"Guidance shows us on energy and course." Tim argued.
"Well, I've made this approach two hundred and thirteen times in the simulator. We are not where we're supposed to be."
"Where the hell are we?" Childs asked.
"Endeavor, guidance is bad. You are now 1-2-niner miles off course."
"Roger Houston, we sort of noticed." Childs snapped. "Is that...?"
"Los Angeles. That is confirmed."
"We are 1-5 thousand feet. We got maybe two minutes of glide time left."
"Doesn't make sense." Tim stated, trying to do the math in the back seat. "The guidance, the beacons are all wrong?"
"We're heading straight for downtown."
"We're not going to crash into Los Angeles." Iverson stated firmly.
"They're going to hit downtown L.A. at three hundred knots."
Endeavor worked her way into the atmosphere. Nose thrust full ahead, she was on a collision course.
"Bob, you know L.A.? Because I have an idea." Childs stated, working out coordinates on a map.
"Houston, those buildings are getting mighty big. Can you clear a freeway?"
"Okay, thank you."
"Come on. Come on."
Joel, on the phone, shook his head. Stickley turned her attention back to the shuttle.
"It's rush hour, Commander, and its bumper-to-bumper."
"Sir I have an alternate." Childs stated nervously. "If you turn to heading 1-7-5..."
"It's Houston's call. Houston?"
"Computers are still plotting." Stickley confirmed.
"Come on."
Endeavor cleared over a baseball field in just a few seconds, stopping the game and everyone else in their tracks.
"Houston, we are running out of time here." Iverson hissed through gritting teeth.
"Sir, I have an alternate!" Childs repeated.
"All right, Beck, what do you got?"
"Houston, I have coordinates for an alternate landing site. Can you confirm?"
"Endeavor, give them to me." Stickley demanded.
"I show possible touchdown...at 33.55 north, 188.10 west.:
"Bill?"
"It's theoretically possible." he stated, though he didn't have much confidence in the idea.
"Endeavor..."
"That is confirmed." Stickley came over the Com. "Turn right heading 1-7-5. Expect visual contact with Los Angeles river in five seconds."
Endeavor cleared over their makeshift runway within the estimated time. Bob's eyes winced together, blinked, then came apart at the image before him.
"No, that will not work Houston. We got bridges every few hundred yards. Our wingspan alone is going to fold us up."
"I figured the "L" over "D" max." Childs stated. "We can make it if you bring us straight in."
"We're coming in high and hot." came Tim from behind.
Iverson was visibly shaking in his seat. Beck's eyes were wide with fear. This idea was a last resort and not a very good one at that. She only hoped that this got them through.
"Two ninety feet, three twenty. Two seventy, three-o-five."
"Arm the gear." commanded Iverson.
"You're armed." came Tim.
"Gear down. Now."
"Gear in transition." The gear went up. Bob set himself for the roughest landing of his life. "Two forty feet. Two ninety."
"Hang on. This isn't going to be subtle." Iverson warned.
"Two ten feet. Two sixty five."
Iverson brought the tale down and the nose up. They were heading straight into the first bridge.
A police officer on the bridge tried desperately to get those still on the bridge off and away.
"Get out of the way! Move!"
Somehow it just missed them. The nose shifted position and went up and over as the tail just grazed them. The shuttle then came to a hard landing in the water beneath them, careening faster and faster, it seemed, toward destruction.
"Derotate." yelled Beck.
"Inward." replied Iverson.
The nose came down just in time for them to clear the second bridge.
"Two thirty...two ten."
"Speed brakes."
Beck set them. "One hundred percent."
"Oh, we're way too fast."
"Deploy the chute." Tim recommended.
"No. We'd snag the bridge. We'll tear the tail off." They came upon another bridge. "Banking right!"
"Commander that next bridge!" Beck yelled. She looked outside her window to see as the wings ripped off, tearing and snapping against the concrete barriers on either side of them. "Watch it! We're way to high for that one! Suck up the gear."
"Not yet." Iverson protested. "We lose all steering."
"We hit, its over." she argued.
They kept sliding on and on. Just a few hundred yards away was a crew working on the next bridge. There was no way. Simply no way.
"Gear up now!" Iverson yelled. Beck pressed the buttons to initiate the gear retraction.
The gears went up and just as Iverson said, all steering was lost. They were now a hockey puck in a narrow skating rink, heading on a crash course for destruction, and the construction zone was the net.
"Lock your harnesses." Came Iverson. "This is out of my hands."
They slid forward, under another bridge. Their tail and wingtips shattered. With their balance and aerodynamics now off, the ship careened in three hundred sixty degree turns. All inside braced themselves for certain death.
The workers on the bridge saw the image unfolding a few yards ahead and scattered. Tools, planks, anything being carried was dropped instantly.
"Let's get out of here!"
"Run! Let's get out of here!" Was shouted. One young man with heavy headphones on, however, heard nothing. He continued drilling and welding, oblivious to the dangers careening toward him at miles per minute, until a shadow passed over his line of vision. He turned, completely stunned, to see a space shuttle sitting right in front of him.
Sirens could be heard from behind. It was over.
Author's Note: Wow. This one was hell to write. Hope you all like it. Still, nothing changing till chapter 11. Just to let you know. ^_^
