A/N: I hate this crappy episode, and trying to muddle through it has led me to a decision: the next time I watch an ep and realize that I'd rather die than make a story out of it, I'm gonna skip it. We don't always need to hear the details of Mulder's thoughts through, say... Genderbender. Just for example.
It goes without saying, but if this was mine, I wouldn't want to claim it anyway. So, no contest. You can have it.
The note appears in my mail on a Saturday, postmarked in Houston.
Agent Mulder.
I work for NASA. Something is very wrong. Meet me on the steps in the park across from the Hoover building tomorrow at noon. I need to talk to someone from the FBI.
There is no signature.
Why is it that informants always feel like they need to make their grammar as choppy as possible? Seriously.
So I call Scully, who answers on the first ring, something that bothers me a tiny bit. It's Sunday, after all. Shouldn't she be... somewhere, doing whatever people with lives do?
"Scully."
"Scully, it's me," I tell her, wondering why she's waiting by the phone. "Are you busy tomorrow?"
"As a matter of fact, Ethan and I had planned to-"
Great. Ethan. His name keeps trickling out of her mouth every now and again. Never met him. Don't care to. She prattles on, something about a concert and the word art thrown around a few times. "Scully," I tell her when she's done, "I just got a note asking for a meet tomorrow at noon. Can you make it with me?"
"Mulder, did you hear what I just said? I have plans."
Okay. This is how far I can push her. "Okay," I tell her. "That's all right. I can do this alone."
"Where's the meet?" she sighs.
"Across from the Hoover," I reply trying not to get my hopes up.
"I'll see you at noon," she says, and hangs up the phone.
Why do I feel like I just won the lottery?
XXXXX
After a restless night without much to do after Star Trek was over (I'm really liking that Odo guy, and am I crazy or is there something going on between him and Major Kira?) except read and watch movies – some dirty, some not – I'm chomping at the bit to meet this person, whoever it is, that works at NASA. NASA! I love NASA! SETI, NASA, pretty much anything space related. After all, I was once a little boy, and little boys like things that go boom, and space shuttles make a really satisfactory boom. Right before they lose gravity, which is also cool.
So, even though it's my day off, I shower, and I change, and I get dressed, and I go sit in the park where Scully likes to have lunch. And I wait. And Scully waits with me.
She meets me at the steps just like she promised, not another word about Ethan, or the fact that it's Sunday. She takes one of my sunflower seeds out of my package and we sit there for a minute in silence.
"What did the note say?" she finally asks.
"Just that they worked for NASA," I reply, handing her the note. "They wanted to talk to somebody from the FBI."
"Why the cloak and dagger routine?" She glanced at the note, but there's not much there.
Well, Scully, my psychic powers have revealed to me that we need to be very secretive because... "I have no idea."
"Think it's a crank?"
We've been here five minutes or so with no sign of anyone. I check my watch. "It's beginning to look that way." Give it another twenty-five to be safe.
The thing is, it could be anyone. It could be the woman with the stroller across the park, or the one who's walking down the ramp behind us and keeps going. Who knows, maybe we don't look like they think we look -
The woman turns around and comes back. "My name is Michelle Generoo." She shakes my hand.
"Fox Mulder..." I introduce myself, even though I think she figured out who I am. She's kind of pretty, dressed in a suit and for some reason, a plaid shirt that I think may be a fashion faux pas. Her brown hair is long, and she's wearing these huge earrings that aren't completely unattractive.
"I sent you the note," she tells us, shaking Scully's hand.
Scully doesn't comment on how that's become obvious. "Hi. Special Agent Dana Scully."
"I'm sorry to have to take these precautions. I flew up from Houston this morning. I work at the Space Center there."
Cool. "In what capacity?"
"I'm the Mission Control Communications Commander for the Space Shuttle Program." Wow. Communications, despite how easy Uhura makes it look, or the fact that Worf can pretty much handle it with the touch of a button, is a big deal in space. I look over to Scully, but she seems unfazed.
"What brings you to Washington?" asks Scully.
"I have reason to believe there may be a saboteur at work inside NASA."
Ah. Oh dear. Ah. "Do you have evidence of sabotage?"
"I don't know. I may. Two weeks ago, a shuttle mission was scrubbed three seconds before lift off when an auxiliary power unit valve malfunctioned. If the flight had not been aborted, there was a great chance the liquid fuel system and the Orbiter would have exploded on the launch pad." This would be bad. Check. Although we've established that I do enjoy explosions.
She continues, "This was sent to me in the mail." She opens her briefcase and pulls out what looks like an x-ray. "It's a material analysis that shows deep grooved scoring marks inside this APU valve. Marks that could have caused a malfunction." She's holding the x-ray up while she talks, and I can see what I think are lines on the valve thingy, but I have no idea what they mean, really.
"Evidence of tampering?" I ask.
"That's what it looks like, but... according to the person who gave me your names you have expertise in unexplained phenomena, and what's unexplainable is how and when anybody could have done it."
Gotcha, but Scully doesn't. Shuttle parts are made to withstand really really hot things. Like the launch pad with the big explosion. I can't imagine it's easy to damage. "How do you mean?" she asks.
I understand enough to get the gist of why this is impossible, but I realize I should hear this explanation too, because Michelle knows this way more than I do.
"The valve is made of ferrocarbon Titanium. To score, that material would take extreme temperatures : launch pad temperatures. If anyone at NASA were to take a look at that analysis, they would say that it would be impossible for anyone to do that type of damage undetected."
"Do you have any idea who may have sent that to you?" Scully asks.
"No. No idea. But I can tell you that the official analysis of the malfunction was simple mechanical failure."
Now that doesn't seem right. "Does anybody share your suspicions?"
"If they do, they're not talking to the FBI. I believe in the space program. I believe in the people who run it, but there's another launch window tomorrow and my reasons may sound selfish, but my fiancee is a shuttle commander on that mission."
It does sound selfish. But we can't let anything happen – not just national security and us being FBI, it's that the space program, SETI, and the like are some of the few government ventures I can actually get behind.
So we're going to Houston.
I look at Scully and she looks at me.
And then she sighs and pulls out her cell and walks away, I hear her say, "Hi, Ethan."
I turn back to Michelle. "We're going to look into this."
She relaxes a bit, smiles. "Thank you, Mr. Mulder."
I shake my head. "It's just Mulder," I tell her, a fact I can't get my own mother to wrap her mind around.
XXXXX
So we dutifully fly to Houston the next morning. While we're in the air, Scully starts up about Ethan.
"We'd just met up again, no big deal, made plans for one dinner, and he's acting like my having to cancel is ruining his life. We've never even really been exculsive! He's just a guy I go out with sometimes! Not even in the last year, not that much!"
I bite my tongue. Hard. I'd like to tell her that Ethan obviously wants to make things more serious with her, and she should let him, but how can I say that when her dinner plans got ruined before she even had one more date with the man, and he obviously can't handle it. She's a big girl – this is her choice, and she needs to live with it. And he needs to let her do that if he wants to be with her.
That's what I want to tell Scully.
"I dunno, Scully, it sounds like you're upsetting his plans," I say.
"Upsetting his plans? I know I'm upsetting his plans, it's not my fault, you're the one who had to call me in."
I should have left my tongue bit.
XXXXX
She's still annoyed when we land, but still rents the car and we drive over to NASA. Seriously, I love being in the FBI. Colonel Belt is still running things here, which means I get to meet him. Meet! Him! Me!
Meet him!
And the treatment! We're FBI! They don't just send you to see the Colonel, they give you a ride in this little golf cart thingy. "Why would somebody want to sabotage the Space Shuttle?" asks Scully.
Which has been bugging me too.
So my answer is a big bunch of B.S. There have been no threats, so it's probably not terrorism. "Well, if you were a terrorist, there probably isn't a more potent symbol of American progress and prosperity. And if you're an opponent of big science, NASA itself represents a vast money trench that exists outside the crucible and debate of the democratic process." We are rolling past offices, and labs, and what the floor has little traffic lines on it. "And of course there are those futurists who believe the Space Shuttle is a rusty old bucket that should be mothballed. A dinosaur spacecraft built in the 70's by scientists setting their sights on space in an ever declining scale."
"And we thought we could rest easy with the fall of the Soviet Union."
Silly woman. But I'm kind of warming to my topic. "Not to mention certain fringe elements who accuse our government itself of space sabotage. The failure of the Hubble Telescope and the Mars Observer are directly connected to a conspiracy to deny us evidence."
"Evidence of what?"
Please! "Alien civilizations." Does she know me at all?
"Oh, of course." She's pretending to be surprised now. We keep driving, past a countdown clock (10:45:26) and eventually they drop us off in a hallway full of framed posters of previous missions, and a security guard escorts us to the colonel's office. There's a picture of Gemini 8. I love Gemini 8, mostly because the rumor is they made contact with aliens. Never confirmed.
"Wow, look at that – Gemini 8."
"What?"
Explanation time. "Well, the man we're gonna see? Colonel Marcus Aurelius Belt nearly died on that mission. Had to make an emergency landing right in the middle of the Pacific Ocean." Not as tense as some others but still.
"You remember all that stuff?"
She knows the name of every bone in the human body. "You never wanted to be an astronaut when you were a kid, Scully?"
"Guess I missed that phase." The clock on the wall says ten hours and thirty nine minutes till launch.
"Come in." She must have knocked. How can I have missed that? Be cool, Mulder. Be cool. Calm. Professional. Don't forget – sabotage, bad. Fanatic drooling, also bad. FBI career, good.
"Col. Belt, I'm Special Agent Dana Scully." she says, shaking his hand, and this is..."
She's gonna introduce me! I"m gonna meet Colonel Belt! "Colonel Belt. Fox Mulder." I hold out my hand and he shakes it. "I'm a big fan. It's an honor to meet you. Y-you were a big hero to me when I was a kid." Not geeky, not at all...
"Thank you."
"I-I stayed up all night when I was 14 to watch your space walk."
Too much, Mulder.
Now he seems uncomfortable. "Well, now it's like a stroll around the block." We all take a seat. "So... how can I help you?"
"This found its way to the FBI," says Scully, handing him the picture. "Do you recognize it?"
He holds it up to the light pouring in the window. "Sure, it's an auxiliary power unit valve." He drops it on his desk.
"Do you have any reason to believe that the damage done to it was in an effort to sabotage the Space Shuttle Program?"
"No."
"Do you have any reason to suspect sabotage at all?"
"No reason whatsoever. And if you have any respect for this program and for the people who have devoted their lives to it, you'll be careful to whom you make those accusations." Now we've gone and pissed him off. I can't help squirming.
"Looking at this evidence, sir, would you consider postponing the shuttle flight until a full investigation could be conducted?"
Nice, Scully.
He sighs. Deeply. We're annoying him. "Look, I don't know where you got this specious artifact, but I can assure you every precaution has been taken to rectify the problem. We've been waiting two weeks for a window to initiate this mission. We've got a payload to deliver." Whatever that is, exactly, we are not cleared to know. Spy satellite?
"Colonel Belt, has an internal investigation ever been done on this matter?"
"The part you have here, has been installed, inspected, and designed by over 100 highly trained technicians. With the security measures we take, it would be virtually impossible for one man working by himself, or two or four men, to do what you are suggesting. I can assure you there isn't a person in this facility that doesn't want to see that shuttle go into space, complete its mission, and come back like winged victory herself. And in about ten hours, God willing, you're gonna see just that."
Pretty certain, then. I'm still squirming, though.
But not an answer, a tiny voice in my head says.
Whatever. It's Colonel Belt.
We stand up. "Do you think there would be a problem with us watching lift off from Mission Control?" I ask, loving that it's not an unreasonable request.
"Well, being that you'd probably go over my head anyway, please, be my guest."
Yeah, we could. Would we? Well, it would be a cool thing to see. "It was an honor, sir," I tell him, shaking his hand. Wow.
Scully shakes his hand too. "Thank you." She follows me out. Where the old snark returns. "Didn't you want to get his autograph?" she asks, once the door is closed behind us.
XXXXX
We are FBI. This is a government facility. It's a given that we're gonna poke around.
Sadly, at NASA, there is no place to go to get a directory so you just have to wander around until you find a lab that isn't a clean room. Luckily, Scully is able to charm pretty much anyone (except me) and we make it to the Auxiliary Power Unit Valve Lab (known in the vernacular as something else, but whatever) to talk to someone who might give us a better answer within a couple of hours of meeting the Colonel. All the while, in the back of my mind, a little voice won't shut up.
He's hiding something.
Shut up.
He didn't answer your questions.
Shut up.
He's using your hero worship to hide.
Shut up.
"What can you tell us about this?" asks Scully, handing the Head Egghead the X-ray or whatever of the Valve Thingy.
"Where did you say you got this?" he asks, squinting at the picture.
"It came to us anonymously," she replies.
"Well this is an APU valve all right, but this doesn't make sense."
"What doesn't make sense?" I told you so! I told you so! Says the voice. I hate the voice.
"This scoring here. This valve is made out of ferrocarbon titanium. Its -" Wait a damn minute. Who else is gonna order this test in the first place?
"You didn't order the analysis?" I ask him.
"No, I've never seen this before. But we're on outside contract to NASA. They may have ordered it." it's routine. Breathe.
It's not routine.
Shut up, stupid voice.
"But as a matter of course wouldn't you order a material analysis if a part malfunctioned?" I ask.
"Every shuttle has flown with that same APU valve. We haven't had a problem. To do an analysis and redesign would delay the program for months, not to mention the cost."
"Is it conceivable that in order to avoid these delays, the program is being pushed ahead without proper safety precaution?" Sometimes I hate her. You don't just accuse Colonel Belt of-
He's not an astronaut anymore, he's a bureaucrat.
Be quiet, silly voice.
"Look, there are about 17,000 things that can go wrong with the shuttle, and about 17,000 people who make sure they don't."
"And who makes the final determination as to its safety?"
Oh dear.
He's hiding something.
"Oh we make a recommendation, but ultimately, the decision is Col Belt's."
We both thank him. But I don't feel it. Thankful. I don't feel thankful.
I follow Scully up the stairs, or maybe she follows me, I don't know anymore. "What do you think?" she asks.
"I can't believe how much faith we put in machines," I tell her.
"You think Col Belt knows more than he's saying? That he lied about his knowledge of a saboteur?"
No. I can't think that.
Not yet.
Shut up, voice.
"I can't believe that Col Belt would endanger the lives of those astronauts knowing that something might go wrong. He was an astronaut himself."
"So you think this x-ray is bogus?"
Uh....
No. No, I don't.
Dammit.
"God, I hope so."
XXXXX
We can't stop the launch, and we can't even tell if there's something wrong with this shuttle. So we wait, kick back, hang out at NASA, take the tour, and generally wait for something to happen.
And eventually, it does.
"This is Shuttle Launch Control with T minus one minute 40 seconds and counting."
Oh, it's beautiful. My stomach is all wibbily. Who wouldn't be wibbily?
"OTC is go for orbiter access arm retract."
I believe that means they're gonna reel in the bridge thingy that leads to the hatch.
"OTC, OBCC verified."
"Roger that, OBCC verified."
"Here we go," says Colonel Belt.
"This is Shuttle Launch Control with T minus one minute 30 and counting."
"Final purge sequence, main engine check."
So they've flushed all the fuel stuffs (cars aren't my thing, so shuttle engines are even less my thing) and the engine looks good.
"Copy purge sequence. Main engine check."
"Switching off Orbiter's ground supply. On board fuel cells check."
Power's working.
"Roger, OTC."
"Pick up terminal sequence, MPS."
No idea what this one is.
"Copy that. OTC to CDR, how do you read?"
"Loud and clear."
"CDR Houston, how do you read?"
That one is communications. Michelle answers.
"Loud and clear."
"Side hatch close out and white room configuration complete. Retracting Orbiter arm. All systems go for APU start."
That would be the prestart, basically. Warm the engine up.
"Go with APU start."
"PBSR power down and ready for launch. Transfer to internal power."
I'm not bouncing. I'm not. But I want to. Really badly.
"Transfer to internal power."
"Gimbaling of main engines complete. Aero surfaces in launch position."
Flaps. Check.
"MPDR assembled. Military recorder is running."
Covering our asses, check.
"Okay, copy."
"Oxygen vent hood retracted. External tank is at flight pressure. Ok CDR, lock your visors and initiate your O2 flow. Y'all have a good one."
"Roger that."
"Go for auto sequence start. Booster hydraulic units have started. Go for main engine start."
And this is where the voice kicks in.
It could blow up. He's lying to you. This isn't safe.
But we have no proof, I tell the voice.
"T minus ten and counting."
This one shouldn't launch.
Shut up.
"Nine..."
He'll bury the evidence.
No he won't.
"Eight..."
Something's wrong.
No it isn't.
"Seven..."
Then why do they all look so nervous.
They do not.
"Six..."
Yes they do. Look at Scully, she knows.
I can't help glancing at her, but she doesn't look nervous.
"Five..."
Yes she does. You know she does.
Apprehensive. She looks apprehensive. Are you happy now?
"Four..."
What if you're wrong?
"Three... Two... One..."
You could be.
"Zero. Ignition. We have liftoff of the shuttle Orbiter."
Everyone starts cheering, but I have to force myself to join in.
"CDR Houston, bet y'all have never seen a more beautiful sight."
"Roger that, 10-4," says Michelle.
"Roger. Back to you. Lower throttle back. Main engine at 65%."
She turns and gives me a thumbs up. Everything's gonna be fine.
"Roger. Throttle at 110%."
"Go for SRB separation."
"Roger OTC."
We stay and watch the rest. Nothing goes wrong.
And the voice stays silent.
XXXXX
By the time we reach the hotel, I think I might have been worrying about nothing. I'm ready to go lie down, relax, watch that ridiculous show about some rapper named Will who lives with his rich uncle. "I have to admit, that fulfilled one of my boyhood fantasies," I tell Scully as we head for our hotel rooms.
"Yeah, it ranks right up there with getting a pony and learning how to braid my own hair."
Ha! I knew it. "Come on, Scully. You have to admit that was exciting. Mission control-" she smiles, and I playfully punch her arm "...countdown..." she's still smiling.
"Mulder!!" We turn, and it's all over. Michelle is here, and she is not happy. "Wait! Something's gone wrong."
No. Come on.
I told you. Didn't I tell you?
Dammit.
"What happened?" asks Scully.
"Something's wrong with the shuttle. We had some trouble with the solid rocket boosters, but we were able to fix it. We changed watch, I went home to try to get some sleep. I got a phone call twenty minutes ago. Communication with the shuttle had gone down. Come on. We've got to get back to Houston."
XXXXX
We follow Michelle down a wet road in the night, trying to think of what we're gonna do, what's left to investigate. I mean, there isn't tons to go on, here.
None of the radio stations are working, so we have no news, just none.
We'll just have to wait until we get there. "They have a press blackout in effect," I tell her as she starts to get frustrated. "Chances are, the media doesn't know about it." Yet.
"Do you think this is sabotage?"
Yes. "I don't know. Things go wrong all the time."
"Yeah, but they usually fix them, right?"
She's like a small child, looking for reassurance, and I'm reminded, just for a second, of Sam. Dammit.
"Usually."
I see Michelle's car turn. "She's turning," says Scully. Suddenly her car just runs off the road and flips over into a ditch.
We jump out of our car as soon as we're somewhat stopped and run to help her. I can hear her screaming, and Scully calling her name. I kneel down by the door. "You all right?"
"I'm stuck!"
Okay. "Can you move?" Scully asks.
"Just get me out of here. I'm wedged in!" We move to the other side of the car, where it's easier to reach her.
"You all right?" I ask again.
"I'm wedged in!"
I reach into the car. "C'mere." But she's not budging. "Can you push with your legs?"
"Be careful," says Scully. Duh.
"Just get me out of here!" she wails. Wimp.
So much for careful. "Okay, all right. Come on." I pull her out, finally. Scully takes over.
"It's okay. Now don't try to move."
"Oh, I got to get back to Houston."
"What happened?" I ask her.
"I don't know. Something came at me in the fog, and the next thing I knew I was upside down."
Huh.
"Was it some kind of an animal?" Scully asks her.
"No. It had a face. It was... it was grotesque. I don't know what it was." I pull her up, feeling strangely protective. I even wrap my arm around her. I don't know why,exactly, but she could have died. Why? Who the hell would want to kill Michelle?
"You okay?" Scully asks.
"Yeah." She pauses. "We need to go. Can I, uh, hitch a ride?"
XXXXX
We make it in time to watch all hell break loose at Mission control.
"Orbiter, this is Houston. Do you copy?" someone is calling the shuttle as we enter.
"Your transmission is breaking up, Houston."
"What's happening?" asks Michelle.
"We have a malf in the OMS and RCF systems. They can't get the Orbiter into attitude rotation. Temperature in the cabin is approaching 103 degrees and they have downlink transmission problems... what happened to you?"
"I had an accident. What's their position?"
"Just over Eastern Africa."
"Try patching them into the Saychelles Tracking Station." She speaks into her headset. "Hang in there OTC."
I turn to Scully. She may not be following, after all. "The Orbiter maneuvering system has malfunctioned. Without it they can't rotate the shuttle. They need to rotate it away from the sun to keep the Orbiter cool."
"We've got a drop in cabin pressure, 21 kilopascals and declining."
"They're going to burn up," mutters Michelle.
"Where's Col. Belt?" I ask, not expecting an answer.
"He's on his way."
"Damn it! What happened when they went to back up?"
"Back up system failed to respond."
"Well, what about telemetry? Can we auto-activate their systems from down here?"
"We cannot auto-activate! It's like someone's interfering with the telemetry, screwing with the uplink communications from this end."
Not good. They're supposed to be able to fly it themselves if they have to. Just in case.
"Can you trace it?" The guy blinks and it's clear that he never thought there was actually a person actually doing what he just described.
"It'd have to be a digital processor."
"They'd have to be in the data banks."
Finally, something I can actually do. "Where's that?"
I expect Michelle to stay put, but she must really love this guy. "Come on." Scully and I chuck our coats and follow her out of the room, down some hallways, and into another room full of computers. We enter with our weapons drawn and I think I hear something but then the lights go out.
Damn.
"Mulder?" I hear Scully whisper.
The lights come back on, dimmer. Emergency lights, but I can still see a shadow in the corner. "I'm a federal agent. Come on out of there." And he does, a pudgy geeky looking guy comes out and my gut says he's a dead end. But we have to ask anyway. "What are you doing in here?"
"I work here."
"Let me see your clearance," says Michelle.
He hands it over. "Sensor went off. There was a malfunction in one of the telemetry processors."
Michelle isn't done, though. "Did you find it?"
"No."
This is getting us nowhere. "Did you see anybody else in here?" He shakes his head and the lights come back on. Neat trick. "Okay, call security. I want a search of the premises. I don't want anybody coming in or out of this building who doesn't have proper clearance." Not that they would anyway.
This is an inside job.
I hate you, voice.
XXXXX
When we get back to Mission Control, Colonel Belt is there taking charge. A few bursts of static are coming from the speakers and Belt is looking around for someone, but relaxes when he sees us. Or rather, Michelle. I doubt he cares about me and Scully. "Somebody's jamming our transmissions," Michelle tells him.
"Who do you mean?"
How did he get here so quick when they were having trouble finding him?
"Somebody or something is interfering with our ground communications and scrambling our uplink telemetry. The shuttle is not responding to override signals."
"I'm going to let them fly by wire. I'm cutting off telemetry."
Don't let him take risks, he'll kill them.
I don't have the energy to make the voice shut up right now. I'm too tense. It's no good, like having a devil on my shoulder.
"It might not work. We might lose contact for good," Michelle reminds him.
"We have to give it a chance to work."
"We have to try to bring them down."
"We have to give them control of the ship, take a chance they'll be able to perform that rotation maneuver and deliver their payload."
What is this payload? Why is it so important? Can't they do it later? Who is he really working for?
"What if they can't? We could be stranding them up there."
Five seconds' pause, and then: "Abandon telemetry. Go to fly by wire mode."
I turn to Scully. "They're cutting off ground control to the Orbiter. The astronauts will be flying the shuttle all by themselves."
"Is it going to work?"
No, it won't. He's gone corrupt and crooked and God only knows what else.
"OTC, this is Houston. How's the weather up there?"
"Sunny and warm Houston. What's the forecast?"
"OTC, we're going to fly by wire mode. We're going to abort ground control momentarily to see if you can bring those systems back up."
"Roger that, Houston. And leave the driving to us."
So damn cheerful.
His boss is leading him to his death.
"David... you take care."
She really does love him.
"What just happened?" asks Scully. Normally I don't think of her as dense, but there you have it.
"They cut off contact with the shuttle," I remind her.
"Forty-five seconds. If they were able to execute they'd have done it by now," says Michelle. God this is tense.
"Standing by," says Belt.
"60 seconds."
The voice is strangely silent.
"Go to reestablish uplink communication."
"Video signal's failed on them."
Not good.
"OTC, this is Houston. Do you copy?" Nothing. "OTC , this is Houston. Where are you?"
"Howdy-do, Houston. Looks like we finally got this bird to fly right."
Thank God. We all join in the applause.
"OTC, do you hear that?
"Music to our ears."
"Cabin temperature stabilizing."
Thank God Thank God Thank God.
But then - "OTC, this is Mark Belt in Houston. How's the crew holding up?" He speaks hesitantly, like something's wrong. Like he's in pain.
"They're looking good, sir."
"Y'all get some rest. We'll get back to work at about 0700."
"Roger that, Houston."
"Let's get to work on that telemetry problem. We got a big day ahead of us."
He doesn't really seem happy, does he?
Shut up, voice.
There is a press conference an hour later, and we are still there. Michelle takes us into the back of the room, and we watch as everyone sets up their cameras. Belt gives an opening statement : "I know you have a lot of questions, and I'll get to them..."
I hear Scully whisper, "How did he know what he did was going to work?" to Michelle.
"He didn't. They could have died up there and there would have been nothing we could have done. They'd have been a ghost ship stuck in orbit."
"Why would he take that risk?" she whispers again.
"Bring those men back without delivering that payload? You're talking millions of wasted dollars. That's all Congress would need to shut down NASA."
This sucks.
"As of 2200 hours," Belt tells them, "the crew has been conducting on-board tests and tasks and resting up for their first full day in space tomorrow. I'm happy to say after a beautiful night launch the Shuttle Orbiter has performed magnificently."
"So much for your boyhood hero, Scully mutters as Michelle walks out looking disgusted.
The voice, however, remains silent.
I guess it figured I don't need it anymore.
XXXXXX
After the press conference, Scully is happy to just walk away and chat with some guy from the Washington Post – about which I'm really not jealous, by the way – but I follow Colonel Belt out and down a hallway. He must know I'm there – I'm not really being quiet – but he doesn't stop moving.
And I need to know why.
So I call out to him. "Col. Belt? Col. Belt? Can I talk to you for a moment?"
And he turns and looks at me. "You want to know why I lied to them. You're asking yourself if this means I'd lie to you." I nod. "You know what it means to be an astronaut, sir? You risk your life every time you get into your spacecraft for nothing more than the good progress of mankind."
This is his defense? "You've got no argument from me, sir. You're true American heroes."
"Heroes? We used to make headlines when we did our job right. Now they bury them in the back of the paper. Name me two astronauts on the last shuttle mission." I can't and he knows it. "You make the front page today only if you screw up. They only know your name if you're the unlucky SOB sitting on 500 tons of dynamite. That's what they're really waiting for." He turns to leave.
"Sir, I have to ask. I'm sorry, it's my job." And I am sorry. But he's still being a jackass. "Do you think someone is sabotaging the shuttle?"
"My answer to you sir, will be to bring those men back safely to earth."
That's not an answer. Not at all.
November 16 – Tuesday – Rescue 911, 8 pm. Tuesday night movies, 9 pm Special Law & Order on NBC, 10 pm (Born Bad)
I take to hanging out in Mission Control the next day, waiting for something to happen. Anything. Colonel Belt is dirty and I know it and something is gonna happen.
I hate this.
But at least I'm getting to hang out in Mission Control in Freaking Houston!
Scully and Michelle and I are in a conference room up above, working through everything again and again and again and again – we don't know the whys, or the hows, or the who is helping hims if it even his him, because clearly, Colonel Belt can't just do this by himself - when suddenly one of the guys from downstaris busts in and whispers in Michelle's ear. The back of my neck starts tingling.
This cannot have a good ending.
Michelle mutters something back.
"Sort of a dull thump, like something bumped the ship. Got any ideas about that?" We all hear it this time – the mike is open - "There it is again," says one of the astronauts.
Nothing thumps in space.
"They've got an oxygen leak on board the Orbiter," the guy tells Michelle.
"Our O2 gauges are going all screwy, Houston."
Remember what Michelle said about unable to rescue, stranded in space, and no hope?
About that.
So we go back downstairs. "We got problems," says a geek. "We've got an O2 leak in the main tank."
So we've heard.
"What did they say happened?" Michelle asks.
"They don't know. They just said it was a thump."
"Stand by. We have an astronomer in Winnipeg who just spotted a gaseous cloud about a mile long trailing in our orbit," says some other geek.
"That's the liquid O2 leaking out into space," I tell Scully. And then, because I'm a freaking masochist, I add, "The exact same thing happened to Colonel Belt on an Apollo mission."
"How much time do they have?" Michelle, again.
"Well, that's hard to know without accurate telemetry data. I'll do the calculations, but it will just be a guesstimate."
"I need some answers, and where is Colonel Belt?"
"We can't find him and he was due here 90 minutes ago to begin payload deployment."
And the tingling is now running all down my spine.
"Uh, Houston?" says an astronaut, "We're up here kind of wondering when we have to start holding our breath."
Michelle somehow stays calm. "We're working on it OTC. I need those calculations and I need a worst case scenario."
"We don't know if one or both of the O2 tanks are damaged."
"Worst case scenario! And then I want someone to find Colonel Belt."
And I can do that! "We'll find Col. Belt." She looks relieved.
"They've got thirty minutes of back up oxygen. Beyond that, it's anybody's guess."
So we walk quickly.
"Why does she need Belt?"
"She doesn't know how serious the leak is."
"It's an oxygen leak. Even I can figure out what happens when you run out of oxygen."
"Colonel Belt's been up there in the same situation before. He'll know better than anybody else what to do." It's more than that. He's in charge. It's his responsibility. "He's got to make the decisions."
"Where the hell is he?" asks Scully.
I remember his address – it's in his personnel file, which we dutifully reviewed.
XXXXX
We found his apartment. But great minds think alike. He was willing to kill those men to deliver the payload. Why didn't he show up to do it?
Heart attack? Stroke? Carjacking?
Scully starts pounding on the door, and so do I.
"Colonel Belt? Colonel Belt!"
Nothing.
Disasters start flowing through my brain. Murder, torture, death, illness, worse.
"I'm going to go get security," says Scully.
But then he opens the door.
"Col. Belt. Are you all right?"
"Yeah. I wasn't feeling well."
Lie! But there's no time.
"They need you down at Mission Control, sir. There's been another accident."
"I'll be right back," he says, and shuts the door. I turn to Scully.
"Something's wrong," I tell her.
"You think?"
XXXXX
So we bring him back to mission control even though I am starting to feel this sinking sensation in my stomach – kind of like being on a roller coaster only without the coaster. Michelle is asking the shuttle about something to do with maneuvering and Belt jumps in and asks one of the techs how bad the leak is while my stomach ties itself in knots.
"We have no way to determine," Michelle responds to his question.
"OTC, What's the condensation, cabin."
"Windows are getting a little steamy." That would be CO2. Great.
"Carbon dioxide buildup," exposits Michelle.
"Okay, OTC. Everything's going to be fine. I want you to get in your spacesuits and depressurize your cabin, and then I want you to vent that CO2."
"Roger, Houston. And then what?" Michelle doesn't look happy.
"I want you to stay in your suits. And then I want you to prepare to use your emergency oxygen systems. And then I want you...to...deliver your payload." He has trouble getting the words out. His head is bowed, and I think he looks ashamed.
"Those are men up there!" cries Michelle. Her fiancee.
"You're out of line. You want to tell me how to do my job? I've been up there in that situation, Miss Generoo. There's more at risk here than your personal life. And if you can't accept that or operate effectively in the circumstances then maybe you'd better leave the decisions to people in this room who can." Michelle leaves the room and Scully follows her. So we'll let her clean up that mess I suppose. "OTC, do you copy?"
"Roger, Houston. We're waiting on those O2 calculations."
Oh, screw it. There's nothing I can do here anyway.
XXXXX
"Michelle!"
Scully is chasing her down a hallway and I follow the chicks.
"They're going to die."
"You don't know that," I tell her, because maybe she's right but I have to say it anyway.
"It's absolutely unconscionable putting that payload before those men's lives."
"I think she's right, Mulder. You saw him in there. He's losing it."
They're right and I know it.
"He saved their lives earlier."
"Did he? Or did he put their lives in unnecessary jeopardy? If he can't deliver that payload, Congress is going to kill the Space Program," Michelle says. They're always threatening that.
"And you think killing those astronauts isn't going to have the same effect?" I ask her.
"Look, Mulder. I think somebody must have sabotaged the space shuttle because too many things have gone wrong. I think Colonel Belt knows about it and he's known about it from the beginning," Scully says, surprising me. Since when does she get to be the conspiracy theorist? Isn't that my job?
"We have to stop him. We've got to pull them out of orbit." Something's wrong. He's not conspiring, he wouldn't. My instincts might have hero worship, but they can tell that he's not in some government conspiracy – our little chat in the hall about NASA, he wants what's best.
So the question becomes, what's best?
So I reach out and grab Michelle, and look her in the eyes. "He doesn't want those men to die."
"How do you know?"
"I know it. I'm sure of it." And I do, and I am.
"He's the one who put them up there."
There is that. "And he may be the only person who can get them down alive. Now how can you be certain that what he's doing isn't the right thing? That what he's doing isn't going to save their lives? Now I need access to you records... in a hurry." She nods, and I realize I'm still holding her arm. I let her go, and she leads us down the hall, toward our terrible fate.
XXXXX
"I need everything on the Hubble Telescope, the Mars Observer, the Shuttle Challenger, and the current Orbiter mission," I tell the geek sitting at the computer.
"You're talking about tens of thousands of documents."
Ah.
"What exactly are we looking for?" Scully asks.
"X-rays, diagrams, schematics - - any proof that Belt knew about a sabotage." Even though he would have had to have a reason for telling if he didn't know.
"A needle in a haystack."
Yes, well, if she has a better idea...
The geek keeps scrolling through the files on his computer screen. He points to a column of numbers. "This refers to the filing cabinet where the file is located. These are all of them – I would say start at the top and see what happens.
So we start opening drawers, and pulling stuff out, dumping it on the floor in piles of papers and flipping through looking for anything that doesn't need an in-depth analysis. Besides, I doubt Belt buried the words "I'm guilty" in any of his reports.
Maybe fifteen minutes later, Scully pipes up. "Mulder, I found it. This is the same diagram that was sent to Michelle...ordered by Col. Belt. Which means he knew about the faulty valve."
I have another one. "This is from the Challenger. It's the O ring fitting that failed dated January 21, 1986. That's one week before the space shuttle blew up. And the analysis was ordered by Col. Belt."
"Are you saying he might have known about the Challenger defect?"
Well, yes. "Something weird is going on here, Scully."
"Col. Belt's collapsed." I turn and Michelle is there. I didn't even hear her come in.
Well that won't make this easier. "Where is he?"
"He's in his office."
XXXXX
The office is empty.
"He was just here."
Until we hear the crying.
"Oh my God." Scully goes into Doctor mode.
"What's wrong with him?"
"Get a doctor," I tell her, even though we already have one.
"Help me. Help me," he pleads between gasps.
I don't know what to do, and I need answers. "How can we help you, Col.?"
"He's having some kind of a seizure, Mulder."
The paramedics arrive then. "It hurts! It's tearing me apart!"
"see if I can get a bus," One of them says as they walk him to a stretcher.
"I'm bringing that shuttle down," Michelle says.
"Nooooo! It's out there!"
The EMT tries to calm him. Good luck.
"Spacesuits!" He's still struggling.
"Strap him down," I tell them.
"Give him 10 milligrams of Diazepam," says Scully. But I need him to talk.
"No."
"He's going to hurt himself, Mulder."
I need him to talk. "He's trying to tell us something. Col. Belt." But his attention isn't really on me.
"Those men are up there and they're running out of oxygen."
Dammit, I know that.
"They don't have to die," he says.
I hold up a hand, and the talking stops. "Col. Belt, I want you to focus. Focus your breathing. Focus your pain." It's something I saw in a movie but it seems to work. "Right here."
"Blood pressure is 174 over 120," the EMT says.
I have, like, two seconds.
"Mulder, you're risking an anuerysm."
Will you, shut up, Scully?
"Focus." He stops wiggling. "Now you're focused. Right here. Now you're going to save those astronauts and you're going to tell me how to do it."
"The shuttle can't survive reentry."
"No, he's lying."
Thank you, Michelle. One more word from the peanut gallery and i'm going for the duct tape.
"How do you know it can't survive?"
"The fuselage...the fuselage is damaged. The silicone tiles are destroyed."
Oh dear.
"How does he know?" Michelle asks.
I have my suspicions."How has it been damaged?"
"I'm responsible."
"Did you sabotage the shuttle?"
"No, but I couldn't stop them. Nobody can stop them."
Whatthehell? "Stop who?"
"Pulse is 194." Well, that was more time than I thought at least.
"You're going to kill him, Mulder."
I am momentarily undaunted. "Stop who?"
"They don't want us to know. They don't want us to know."
"Who?"
"It came to me. It lives in me. Get it out. Help me. It's coming back." and then his face.... it changes. Kind of like something green is hovering over it. That's not a symptom of an anureysm i'm sure.
"That's the face I saw in the fog," says Michelle. People are stupid sometimes. Couldn't she have mentioned it was green? And flat? Jeez!
"We're losing him. Defib."
Oh not good.
"Here you go."
"Clear."
"Hit it."
I did this, and I mostly dont' even regret it. What does that say about me?
"We've just run out of oxygen. They've got exactly thirty minutes left in the emergency backup system." This from the guy in the door I didn't realize was there.
I just killed my hero. I just killed Colonel Belt.
"They're going to suffocate up there. I've got no choice but to bring them down. It's the only chance I've got," Michelle tells us as she leaves.
"Again."
"Okay, we got O2 standing by."
"Hold on. We've got vitals. We've got a pulse."
Okay. Didn't kill him. Go me. "We've got to get him to a hospital," says Scully.
Yeah, I know.
They load him onto a stretcher and send him out into the hallway, and he wakes up a bit. "They're bringing the shuttle down. You said the shuttle would burn up on reentry. Is there anything we can do to save it?"
"Change the trajectory."
Okay. "Change the trajectory to what?"
"Change the reentry trajectory to 35 degrees."
That I can do. Maybe. I glance at Scully and we both start running.
XXXXX
"T minus 35 seconds to ionosphere reentry."
"You've to change the reentry trajectory," I shout, running down the stairs.
"What?" yells some guy.
"You've got to change it to 35 degrees." Gosh, I hope it's not too late.
"T minus 30 seconds to ionosphere reentry."
"Colonel Belt- " I begin, but I know that's a lost cause.
"I can't," says Michelle.
"T minus 25 seconds."
"It's your only shot."
She shakes her head. "We...we...we'd have to change the landing site, we'd have to inform them before the blackout."
So any second now.
"15 seconds to blackout."
"I want to know what the weather conditions are in Albuquerque. Are we go for an emergency landing?"
"Weather in Albuquerque? Landing conditions go in Albuquerque."
"T minus five seconds to blackout."
"OTC, this is Houston. I want you to change your reentry trajectory to 35 degrees. You'll be landing at Kirtland Field in Albuquerque. Do you copy?"
"Ionosphere reentry. Temporary blackout in effect."
"Did they get that transmission?"
"Two minutes to reestablish."
Dammit.
"Damn it." She glances at the clock. "How much oxygen do we have?"
"16 minutes."
That's plenty.
"OTC, this is Houston. Come in, OTC."
Nothing.
"OTC, this is Houston. Come in OTC."
Nothing.
"Anything?"
The tech shakes his head.
"What's the point of their new reentry?"
"500 miles west of Hawaii."
"See if Hawaii can get me - " Michelle begins.
"Hawaii's picked the shuttle up on radar."
"They made it," says Scully.
"Not necessarily."
And the nail-biting begins again.
Michelle keeps trying. "OTC, this is Houston. Come in, OTC."
Nothing.
"OTC, this is Houston. Come in, OTC."
Nothing.
"Houston, this is OTC. You know a good place to eat in Albuquerque?"
Oh thank God.
Scully starts laughing next to me, and I believe in miracles a little more. Michelle hugs me and I can't help grinning.
"OTC, welcome home. Welcome home, OTC. You're looking real good," says a tech person.
"Yes!" cries some dude, and part of me wants to cry from the sheer joy of it. I forgot life could feel this good.
XXXXX
Michelle handles the press confrence.
"The Space Shuttle touched down today at 10:56 Central Standard Time. The Orbiter delivered it's payload after just thirteen orbits and returned to Earth...without incident." I know she doesn't like having to do it. But she has to. She has to lie.
They have to believe. Otherwise it's worthless.