Diversity in the US Air Force, circa 1983

Photo of IUS/TDRS deploying from Space Shuttle from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/STS-43

This little tale of diversity comes from my space engineer days at the USAF Space Division, Upper Stages Program Office, in Los Angeles. 

I was a captain at the time and my responsibilities were centered on all software required by the IUS.  The IUS, or Inertial Upper Stage, was a two (or potentially three) stage rocket designed to completely autonomously take a heavy payload to very high orbit around the Earth, or to planets beyond the Earth. "Autonomously" means "all by itself". Think of it as a robot that knows what you want and will just do it for you as soon as you say "go!". In this case, it takes your heavy satellite or planetary probe to the place in space you have designated and leaves it there traveling at the intended speed and direction. 

So, yeah, it had some pretty good software. Plus I was responsible for all the software required to get it ready to go fly. We also had a little thing called a three-way secure data link. This encrypted link allowed computers at contractor and USAF sites to discuss missions in real time. Why? Because after we designed the completely autonomous robot, we decided we really had better be prepared to tell it a thing or two if anything started to go wrong on a sortie.

Which it did. Something went very, very wrong on our first IUS flight out of the back of the Space Shuttle.

The Shuttle launched fine. The IUS and its payload, a tracking and data relay satellite (TDRS), deployed out of the Shuttle cargo bay just fine. 

(Astronauts in general don't like powerful rockets with a mind of their own jumping out of their cargo bay and potentially aiming their nozzles back at the astronaut's ride home. So we had a special big red button in the back end of the Space Shuttle cockpit that, if pressed, would tell the robot to please not do anything for the span of another orbit. At which time, if the situation had not improved, the button could be pushed again. Or, as you will see, other steps could be taken.)

The IUS turned and positioned itself just fine and there was plenty of time for the Space Shuttle to make itself scarce before the first stage of the IUS ignited (point a in the illustration).

Illustration of a transfer orbit from Space Shuttle Orbit to a higher orbit

In fact, the first stage ignited and burned out just fine. At the top of its elliptical transfer orbit (point b in the illustration), the first stage dropped off and the second stage ignited just fine. The second stage should give that last little push so that the IUS and its payload, the TDRS, would stay way out there and not come back down the other side of the elliptical orbit (dotted line). 

(A note on notation: The black arrows and nearby v's in the illustration refer to the velocity needed to stay in that orbit at "a" or at "b". Actually, the little triangle is pronounced "delta" and refers to the fact that the velocity has to change to the correct velocity to go to the elliptical orbit or stay at the higher orbit. How does one get the delta-v needed? Rockets. Stage one and stage two rockets, in this case.)

That's when things did not go fine. The o-rings (have you heard of them?) failed in the second stage nozzle, causing the nozzle to cock over. If you could have been up there to see, it would have made quite a show, spinning like a crazy firework skittering across your driveway. So close, but not quite there. And now it was spinning. Not good. Not very good at all. 

The second stage completed its burn. On your driveway, the firecracker would have skittered to a stop. But this is space and there is no friction for the IUS and TDRS to stop its frenzied dance. The IUS should have let go of the payload after the second stage burned out. This is what we were all waiting for. Because when the IUS let go, the TDRS team could instruct the satellite to stabilize and, at the cost of some useful life, enter the correct orbit.

(Once a satellite runs out of a means to stay in the right place and stay stable, in this case fuel, its orbit will degrade and its useful life will be over. So using the TDRS fuel to correct this situation would be undesirable, but not as bad as losing the whole mission.)

But the IUS never let go. Like some sort of panicked drowning man, it clung tenaciously to the TDRS as it spun and spun.

The net was burning up.

The net is the collection of engineers and leaders who are talking to each other on special phones about the mission. "What should we do?" "Just wait, it will work!" "Wait? How long?" and etc.

Meanwhile, at the Boeing facility where the IUS was imagined and born, the engineers were pouring over the telemetry data and flight software algorithms feverishly, trying to find answers. In that scrum, was my lieutenant, we'll call her "Skye".

Skye was a very capable software manager back in the time when knowing how to manage software was a new, emerging ability. 

At the point where the smart engineers had figured out the problem, it was her duty to understand what they thought the problem was, evaluate their solution, and get it implemented in real time.

And, as usual, the boys in the back room did their job fantastically. "Here it is Lieutenant! The IUS thinks the second stage is still firing! It feels the acceleration from rotation and mistakenly thinks it is lateral acceleration!" Skye nodded her head. This was basic physics.

"And here's what we need to do, we need to send THIS command, here. This command will tell the software that we don't care what is going on, it is time to go to the next phase of flight. When the IUS receives this command, it will move to the deployment software and let go of the payload."

"OK! Let's do it!" She said.

But not so easy. The net was not practicing good discipline. People were talking over each other and getting in each others way. Nobody knew any answers, but everybody was talking. Skye knew what to do, but no one was listening.

But Skye had a super-power that none of those booming male voices had. 

I am woman. I am strong. I am screechy!

All that to tell you that a USAF lieutenant's screechy shout cut through all the USAF and contractor top-brass chatter to get everyone's attention.

The uplink worked just as we thought. The TDRS was released. The TDRS team could salvage the mission. The mission, although not ideal, was saved.

The moral of the story, as I pointed out at the beginning, is diversity. You have something to offer, no matter who you are. Just make sure you know the mission, come up with good ideas, and use every asset at your command -- to include brains, rank, and screechy voice.

"Skye" went on to a great career in the AF and then a great career in her civilian life. If she gives me permission, I'll tell you about it.

     *     *     *

"Skye" has read this post and says: "Must admit I did chuckle. That was an awesome time." Although she is not so sure her voice was all that screechy, I have it from ear-witness accounts that she saved the day just as I described. Of course, it wasn't just her ability to punch through the clutter. She also led a team, found the solution, understood the solution, and convinced everyone to implement it. Now that's a great superpower to have. 

And, yes, I used the name "Skye" because Cindy reminds me of a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, resourceful, clever, and professional. Cindy has had a great career in the USAF including Chief of the IT Operations Division at Kadena Air Base in charge of 150 electronic maintenance and IT folks. She is currently Head of the Computer Science and Digital Arts Department at a North Carolina college.

Hey, girls, want to be a superhero? Get a liberal arts degree, heavy on the tech! Physics, computer science, engineering, math, anything like that. Just don't skip history, law, civics, art, music, to ensure a well-rounded background. You never know when S.H.I.E.L.D. might need another agent.