[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
do one."
Betsy glanced at her watch. Six-forty St. Louis time; two hours earlier in Los
Angeles. They'd have to get the experts out of bed, a time-consuming process.
She was just about to mention that fact when Paul
Marinos, Six's captain, spoke up. "Wait a second. There's a guy aboard who
works for McDonnell
Douglas—Erin told me he'd asked her about a tour of the flight deck."
"Does he know anything about our electronics?" Young asked.
"I don't know, but she said he does something with computers for them."
Betsy turned around to look at Lewis, who shrugged and nodded assent. "Close
enough," she told the
Skyport captain. "Can you get him up here right away?"
"I'll go get him myself," Marinos volunteered. "I'll be there in a couple of
minutes."
"All right. Let's get back to the shuttle itself, then," Young said. "Betsy,
you said the collar supports were broken. Any idea how that happened?"
"I can only speculate that the collar had established a partial grip before
the shuttle did its sideways veer into the bay wall."
"In that case, the crash may have left both the outer shuttle door and the
exit tunnel intact. Any chance of getting the two connected and getting the
passengers out of there?"
"I don't know." Betsy peered at the screen, made a slight adjustment in the
contrast. "They're out of line, for sure. I don't know if the tunnel will
stretch far enough to make up the difference."
"Even if it does, we'd need portable oxygen masks for all the passengers,"
Henson pointed out from behind her. "They have to be using the shuttle's air
masks, and they can't travel with those."
"That's not going to be a problem," Young said. "I've already invoked
emergency regulations; we're bringing her down to fifteen thousand feet."
"Well, there's nothing more I can tell from here." Betsy shook her head.
"Someone's going to have to go down and take a look. Who aboard this bird
knows the most about docking bay equipment?"
There was a pause. "I don't know whether I know the most,"
Greenburg spoke up diffidently at Betsy's right, "but I've seen the
blueprints, and I worked summers as a mechanic's assistant for Boeing when I
was in college."
"Anyone able to top that?" Young asked. "No? All right, Greenburg, get going."
Betsy put her half-headset back on as Greenburg removed his and stood up. "A
set of the relevant blueprints would be helpful," he said, looking back at
Lewis.
"I'm having the computer print them," the other told him. "If you want to go
down and get the oxygen gear together, I'll come down and give you a hand."
Greenburg glanced questioningly at Betsy. "Can you do without both of us that
long?"
She hesitated, then nodded. "Sure. But make it a fast look-see. You're not
going down there to do any major repair work."
"Right," Greenburg started for the door. "Meet you by the port-aft cargo
access hatch, Tom."
Lewis waved an acknowledgment, his eyes on the computer screen, as Greenburg
exited. Betsy turned back to face forward, and as she did so Rayburn's voice
crackled in her ear. "Skyport, this is Rayburn.
The doctor says John's alive!"
A small part of the tightness across Betsy's chest seemed to disappear. "Thank
God! Is the doctor still there? I want to speak with him."
"Just a second." There was a moment of silence punctuated by assorted clicks,
Page 45
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
and then a new voice came tentatively on the line. "Hello? This is Dr.
Emerson."
"Doctor, this is Wing Captain Elizabeth Kyser. What sort of shape is First
Officer Meredith in?"
"Not a good one, I'm afraid," Emerson admitted. "He seems to have one or more
cracked ribs and possibly a broken collarbone as well. The way the fuselage
has bent inward and pinned him makes it hard to examine him. I could try
pulling him out, but that might exacerbate any internal injuries, or even
drive bits of glass into him from the broken windows. He's unconscious, but
his vital signs are stable, at least for the moment. I'm afraid I can't tell
you much more."
"Just knowing he's alive is good news enough," Betsy assured him. She thought
for a moment. "What if we could cut the whole chair loose? Is there enough
room behind him to move the chair back and get him out that way?"
"Uh... I think so, yes. But I don't know what we would do after that. I heard
the flight attendant say the door was jammed."
Betsy frowned. Rayburn hadn't mentioned that to her. "We might be able to
force it open anyway and get it connected to the rest of the Skyport. Are the
rest of the passengers all right?"
"A few minor injuries, mostly bruises due to the safety belts. We've been very
lucky."
So far.
"Yeah. Thank you, Doctor. Please let us know immediately if there's any
change."
"Got the prints, Betsy," Lewis called as she turned off the mike. "I'm heading
down."
He was gone before she could do more than nod assent, leaving her and Henson
alone. For some reason the empty seats bothered her, and she briefly
considered calling in some of Seven's off-duty crewmen.
But as long as they were stuck in this virtual holding pattern, extra help on
the flight deck would be pretty superfluous. Turning back to the instrument
panel, she felt a wave of frustration wash over her. So many unanswered
questions, most of them crucial to the safety of one or more groups of people
aboard the
Skyport—and she was temporarily at a loss to handle any of them. For the
moment there was nothing she could do but try and line up the problems in some
sort of logical order: if A is true then B
must be done, and D cannot precede either B or C. But it was like juggling or
playing chess in her head;
there were just too many contingencies that had to be taken into account every
step of the way.
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]