11/2/12 news

  Happy Friday all,  it was great to see so many of you that could join us yesterday at Hibachi Grill for our monthly NASA retirees luncheon.     Especially nice to have Grace Germany join us on her brief visit back to Houston from California and nice to have Larry Schmidt and his wife bring their friends visiting from Pennsylvania (intown to visiting their son who works in the MCC) to join us as well.  Glad to see new folks like Terry Fechner join us as well.   Have a great weekend everyone.   Continue to pray for Fern Dean’s rapid recovery from her recent stroke.         Friday, November 2, 2012   JSC TODAY HEADLINES 1.            For Your 'Plane' Enjoyment -- and More 2.            JSC and White Sands Test Facility: See the Space Station 3.            Enterprise Service Request System (ESRS) Hands-on Training 4.            Houston Technology Center Presents Tech Link 5.            How Can NASA Technology and Spinoffs Improve Life on Earth? Find Out Nov. 7 6.            Situational Awareness Class: Dec. 4 to 6; Building 226N, Room 174 7.            Control Team/Crew Resource Management: Jan. 29 to 31; Building 20, Room 304 ________________________________________     QUOTE OF THE DAY “ There is no distance on this Earth as far away as yesterday.”   -- Robert Nathan ________________________________________ 1.            For Your 'Plane' Enjoyment -- and More If you haven't landed at JSC Features lately, now may just be the time. Spectacular photographs taken at Wings Over Houston from Oct. 27 to 28 are sure to win over even those who aren't normally aviation buffs. Speaking of "winning," did you know that one of JSC's own was recognized as one of Houston's Top 30 Under 30 Young Professionals? We in the External Relations Office are quite proud of his accomplishments, not only here but out in the community. And since he does happen to be under 30 (lucky guy), the trajectory for his future looks bright. Congratulations, Elijah Williams! Read more about his recent achievement in JSC Features. JSC External Relations, Office of Communications and Public Affairs x35111   [top] 2.            JSC and White Sands Test Facility: See the Space Station Viewers in the JSC area will be able to see the International Space Station this week. JSC Saturday, Nov. 3, 7:07 p.m. (Duration: 2 minutes) Path: 26 degrees above SW to 10 degrees above S Maximum elevation: 26 degrees White Sands Test Facility Friday, Nov. 2, 6:53 p.m. (Duration: 3 minutes) Path: 32 degrees above SW to 10 degrees above SSE Maximum elevation: 32 degrees The International Space Station Trajectory Operations Group provides updates via JSC Today for visible station passes at least two minutes in duration and 25 degrees in elevation. Other opportunities, including those with shorter durations and lower elevations or from other ground locations, are available at the website below. Joe Pascucci x31695 http://spaceflight.nasa.gov/realdata/sightings/cities/view.cgi?country=U...   [top] 3.            Enterprise Service Request System (ESRS) Hands-on Training The Information Resources Directorate (IRD) is providing a training class in the newly remodeled Building 12 training facility. Learn how to use the new online service request tool for I3P services, such as how to enter and track requests like ordering new seats, moves, edits, network connections, distribution lists and seat de-subscribes. To sign up, visit the Training Schedule Web page. Space is limited and on a first come, first served basis. IRD Customer Service Center x46367 https://esd.nasa.gov/   [top] 4.            Houston Technology Center Presents Tech Link Learn about Houston Technology Center's (HTC's) incubation and acceleration clients focused in the energy, life sciences, Information Technology and NASA/aerospace sectors. Open to the community, these meetings allow professionals to be involved with and influence the evolution of emerging technology. Friday, Nov. 9, at the Aerospace Transition Center (16921 El Camino Real) Light breakfast and networking -- 7:30 to 8 a.m. Presentations -- 8 to 9 a.m. The program will include client presentations by Gabriel UAS, NanoVapor and Nurtured by Design. The  keynote speaker will be Russ Conser, manager, game changer, at Shell. To register, click here.  Immediately following the Tech Link, from 9:30 to 10:30 a.m., you are invited to join us for a free orientation seminar. Learn how the HTC accelerates the growth and success of emerging technology companies. The seminar is open to anyone interested in learning about HTC's acceleration process. Pat Kidwell x37156 http://www.houstontech.org/events/1041/   [top] 5.            How Can NASA Technology and Spinoffs Improve Life on Earth? Find Out Nov. 7 You are invited to JSC's SAIC/Safety and Mission Assurance Speaker Forum featuring Fitz Walker, founder of Bartron Medical Imaging, Inc. (BMI). Subject: NASA Technology Transfer and Spinoffs -- How Space Technology Improves Life on Earth Date/Time: Wednesday, Nov. 7, from 11:30 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. Location: Building 1, Room 360 BMI is a biotech medical device manufacturer with software development and research and design facilities in Maryland and manufacturing in New Haven, Conn. BMI's flagship product (MED-SEG) is an FDA-cleared medical device that incorporates algorithms originally developed by NASA Goddard Space Flight Center. The technology was adapted by Walker for medical imaging, which allows regions of interest to be recognized with a clarity and specificity. Juan Traslavina/Della Cardona 281-335-2272/281-335-2074   [top] 6.            Situational Awareness Class: Dec. 4 to 6; Building 226N, Room 174 Two-and-a-half days. NASA is involved in operations where there is always a potential for human error and undesirable outcomes. As part of a team, how we communicate, process information and react in various situations determines our level of success. In our efforts, we often run into glitches and the potential for human error. Situational Awareness is a course that addresses these issues. It involves combining our awareness of what's going on in the operations environment, a knowledge of system failure design criteria and an understanding of expected outcomes from system failures to avoid hazardous situations and develop safe responses to unsafe conditions that may realistically be expected to arise. This course instructs students in the basic tenets and practices of situational awareness and how they apply to hazardous operations in NASA to promote the best proactive safety techniques in practice. SATERN Registration Required. (Contractors: Update Profile.) https://satern.nasa.gov/learning/user/deeplink_redirect.jsp?linkId=SCHEDULED_... Polly Caison x41279   [top] 7.            Control Team/Crew Resource Management: Jan. 29 to 31; Building 20, Room 304 Two-and-a-half days. This training directly addresses human-factors issues that most often cause problems in team and crew interaction. No one working on a team or a crew, especially in high-stress activities, is immune to these effects. The Control Team/Crew Resource Management Course deals with interpersonal relations, but doesn't advocate democratic rule or hugging fellow team members to improve personal relations. Rather, this course provides awareness of human-factors problems that too often result in mishaps and offers recommendations and procedures for eliminating these problems. It emphasizes safety-risk assessment, crew/team coordination and decision-making in crisis situations. This course is applicable both to those in aircrew-type operations and also to personnel operating consoles for hazardous testing or on-orbit mission operations, or any operation involving teamwork and critical communication. It is preferable that "teams" experience course as a group, if possible. SATERN Registration Required. https://satern.nasa.gov/learning/user/deeplink_redirect.jsp?linkId=SCHEDULED_... Polly Caison x41279   [top]   ________________________________________ JSC Today is compiled periodically as a service to JSC employees on an as-submitted basis. Any JSC organization or employee may submit articles. To see an archive of previous JSC Today announcements, go to http://www6.jsc.nasa.gov/pao/news/jsctoday/archives.         NASA TV: UNDERWAY - “Live” – Atlantis' move from VAB to visitor center (includes ceremony)   Human Spaceflight News Friday – November 2, 2012   Space Shuttle Atlantis leaves Launch Complex 39 for the last time   HEADLINES AND LEADS   Space walk successful on space station   William Harwood - CBS News   Space station commander Sunita Williams and Japanese astronaut Akihiko Hoshide returned to the Quest airlock module and began repressurizing the compartment at 3:07 p.m. EDT (GMT-4), officially ending a successful six-hour 38-minute spacewalk to bypass a suspect solar array radiator. This was the 166th spacewalk devoted to station assembly and maintenance since construction began in 1998 and the fifth this year. One hundred and nine astronauts, cosmonauts and international partners have now logged 1,049 hours and one minute of space station EVA time, or 43.7 days.   Astronauts take spacewalk to find ammonia leak   Marcia Dunn - Associated Press   Two spacewalking astronauts worked on a leaky radiator system outside the International Space Station on Thursday, just hours after barely dodging a menacing piece of orbiting junk. NASA ordered the space station to change position Wednesday evening to avoid a fragment from a communication satellite that was destroyed in a high-speed collision three years ago.   Spacewalkers tackle coolant leak on space station   Irene Klotz - Reuters   A pair of spacewalking astronauts floated outside the International Space Station on Thursday to bypass a leak in one of the outpost's cooling systems. Engineers suspect a micrometeoroid or tiny piece of space debris may have punched a hole no bigger than the width of a hair into one of the station's radiators.   Spacewalking Astronauts Isolate Leak in Space Station Cooling System   Mike Wall - Space.com   Two spacewalking astronauts troubleshot an ammonia leak in the International Space Station's cooling system Thursday, accomplishing the chief objective of their marathon excursion outside the orbiting lab. NASA astronaut Sunita Williams and Japanese spaceflyer Akihiko Hoshide ventured outside the space station at 8:29 a.m. EDT. A little more than five hours later, they had reconfigured some coolant lines and deployed a spare radiator, isolating the leak.   SpaceX completes system requirements review for crewed launches   Zach Rosenberg - FlightInternational.com   SpaceX has completed the third milestone of its commercial crew integrated capability (CCiCap) contract, finishing the integrated system requirements review (SRR) for a crewed launch system. The SRR, which was completed at a meeting at SpaceX's Hawthorne, California headquarters on 29 October, signify that NASA is satisfied that the Dragon capsule, Falcon 9 launch vehicle and other components of SpaceX's proposal can meet the CCiCap requirements, and that questions raised at the project kickoff meeting in August have been answered or mooted.   NASA seeks industry advice for increasing SLS cargo payload   Martin Swant - Huntsville Times   NASA wants the aerospace industry to weigh in on how to carry more cargo on the new Space Launch System heavy-lift rocket. The agency issued a request for information (RFI) Thursday to industry about payload adapters and fairings already available in the commercial industry. The initial capacity of the SLS under development by NASA is 77 tons, with the ability to increase through a series of upgrades. The rocket's design is meant to be flexible for crew or cargo missions, but the initial settings will be for NASA's Orion spacecraft, NASA said.   Cabana: KSC's future is wide-ranging Differing missions envisioned for evolving center   James Dean - Florida Today   A perception persists in some quarters that Atlantis’ exit today from Kennedy Space Center, the last move of a retired shuttle, marks the end of human spaceflight and even of the center itself. Not so, NASA officials repeated Thursday. In fact, with a little more than half the workforce it had a few years ago – still more than 8,000 employees – KSC will continue a busy transition intended to transform it into a multi-user spaceport and the launching point for deep-space exploration.   York astronaut to join road race from space station   Susan Morse – York County Coast Star (Maine)   The next Four on the Fourth road race will really take off as astronaut Chris Cassidy of York plans to take part even though he'll be on the International Space Station next July. "Chris is going to plan to run on a treadmill simultaneously with the Four on the Fourth," race coordinator Robin Cogger said Wednesday. Cassidy's space run will be broadcast live to runners on the ground, via a large-screen television set up at the start of the race at York High School, Cogger said.   Going boldly: Behind scenes at NASA's hallowed Mission Control Center Apollo vet Sy Liebergot shows how NASA got men safely to the Moon and back   Lee Hutchinson - Ars Technica   Astronauts have been saying "Houston" into their radios since 1965. The callsign refers in general to the Johnson Space Center in Texas, and the people who answer to it sit in the Mission Control Center, located in Building 30 near the south end of the The Lyndon B. Johnson Space Center (JSC) campus. "Mission Control" has been the subject of movies, television shows, and documentaries for decades. It's usually depicted as a bustling room filled with serious folks in short-sleeved white shirts and skinny black ties who shout dramatically about damaged spaceships while frantically pressing buttons on chunky 1960s control consoles. What is it really like, though, to sit at one of those consoles? What do all of those buttons do?   SpaceX success   Orlando Sentinel (Editorial)   Amid a news cycle dominated by the presidential campaign, the recent successful end to the first official private cargo mission to the International Space Station went largely unheralded. And that's not such a bad sign. SpaceX, the California-based rocket builder, launched a Falcon 9 rocket and Dragon capsule from Cape Canaveral on Oct. 7 carrying more than 800 pounds of supplies for the space station. The capsule safely splashed down in the Pacific three weeks later, packed with almost twice as much Earth-bound stuff from the station.   Space Shuttle Atlantis – The last 10 miles…   'An amazing career': Atlantis painted a proud legacy From super-secret missions to paving a path to the ISS   Todd Halvorson - Florida Today   Climb onto the flight deck of Atlantis and a first stark impression is that things are pretty cramped — this is not the expansive bridge of the Starship Enterprise. But attention quickly shifts to glowing flat-screen, liquid crystal color displays that graphically show the orbiter’s attitude, altitude, velocity and other key flight indicators as well as the status of shuttle systems. Atlantis in 1998 became the first orbiter outfitted with a modern “glass cockpit,” one that replaced old-fashioned mechanical dials, gauges and green cathode ray displays.   Final 10-mile trek for space shuttle Atlantis   Marcia Dunn - Associated Press   Space shuttle Atlantis' final journey to retirement is down broad industrial avenues, most of them off-limits to the public. So Friday's trek won't replicate the narrow, stop-and-go turns Endeavour encountered last month while navigating downtown Los Angeles. The mastermind behind Atlantis' slow 10-mile march through Kennedy Space Center is sweating bullets nonetheless. Atlantis is the last of NASA's space shuttles to hit the road. It was the last to blast into orbit, more than a year ago, and its final crew members were expected to join a few dozen other astronauts at Friday's daylong hurrah.   NASA's last space shuttle heading to Florida retirement home   Irene Klotz - Reuters   NASA's third and last surviving space shuttle will move to its retirement home on Friday after a 10-mile road trip from the Kennedy Space Center in Florida. Atlantis, which ended the 30-year-old space shuttle program with a final flight last year, will be the star attraction of a new $100 million exhibit at the privately operated Kennedy Space Center Visitor Complex adjacent to the NASA spaceport.   Spotlight's on shuttle Atlantis, but that's not all Expect life-size booster, tank replicas and simulators that offer a taste of spaceflight   Dave Berman - Florida Today   Even after space shuttle Atlantis is safely inside its new home at the Kennedy Space Center Visitor Complex tonight, much work will remain to get the exhibit ready for its planned opening in July. And while the orbiter will be the star of the show, officials promise much more to catch your eye. Among Tim Macy’s favorite features is an interactive wall with touchscreens offering highlights of individual shuttle missions, as well as simulators that will give visitors a taste of what it takes to land an orbiter.   8,000 set to cheer momentous move of Atlantis to Visitor Complex Today, Atlantis leaves VAB   Dave Berman - Florida Today   Tim Macy expects an emotional journey today, as space shuttle Atlantis moves from the Kennedy Space Center Vehicle Assembly Building to its new permanent home at the KSC Visitor Complex — the last 9.8 miles the orbiter will ever travel. Macy, director of project development and construction for Delaware North Companies Parks & Resorts, which operates the Visitor Complex for NASA, is the point person for Atlantis’ daylong journey. Today’s event marks the last move of any of the shuttle orbiters; Discovery, Endeavour and Enterprise already have been transported to their retirement homes.   Stephanie Stilson: 'We knew it would come eventually'   Florida Today   Stephanie Stilson’s latest project is about to come to a climactic finish, one complete with pomp, circumstance and spectacular fireworks. “We’re finally here,” Stilson said Oct. 17 as Atlantis rolled out of its hangar at Kennedy Space Center’s Launch Complex 39, heading temporarily to the 52-story Vehicle Assembly Building. The short move was a somber first leg of a final journey that will culminate today with the orbiter’s delivery to the KSC Visitor Complex. __________   COMPLETE STORIES   Space walk successful on space station   William Harwood - CBS News   Space station commander Sunita Williams and Japanese astronaut Akihiko Hoshide returned to the Quest airlock module and began repressurizing the compartment at 3:07 p.m. EDT (GMT-4), officially ending a successful six-hour 38-minute spacewalk to bypass a suspect solar array radiator.   This was the 166th spacewalk devoted to station assembly and maintenance since construction began in 1998 and the fifth this year. One hundred and nine astronauts, cosmonauts and international partners have now logged 1,049 hours and one minute of space station EVA time, or 43.7 days.   With today's spacewalk, Williams, a former Navy helicopter pilot, moves up to No. 5 on the list of most experienced spacewalkers with 50 hours and 40 minutes of EVA time during seven excursions. Hoshide now has 21 hours and 23 minutes of spacewalk time during three EVAs.   Williams and Hoshide successfully reconfigured ammonia coolant lines to bypass a presumed leak in a radiator used to cool electrical components in one of the space station's solar array modules. A spare radiator then was successfully deployed to take over cooling.   Flight controllers plan to monitor the system for several weeks to determine if the leak is still present. If there are no signs of a leak, they will know the problem was, in fact, in the bypassed radiator. In that case, managers could elect to simply use the spare radiator indefinitely. If the leak is still there, engineers will know it's somewhere else in the system. In that case, another spacewalk likely will be required at some point to replace a pump module.   But switching to the spare radiator effectively tapped an additional reservoir of ammonia and even with a leak, the coolant system should be able to operate for nearly a year, giving engineers time to come up with a solution.   Astronauts take spacewalk to find ammonia leak   Marcia Dunn - Associated Press   Two spacewalking astronauts worked on a leaky radiator system outside the International Space Station on Thursday, just hours after barely dodging a menacing piece of orbiting junk.   NASA ordered the space station to change position Wednesday evening to avoid a fragment from a communication satellite that was destroyed in a high-speed collision three years ago.   Thrusters on a docked Russian supply ship were fired to move the orbiting lab out of harm's way. But a computer error caused the thrusters to malfunction and the space station did not reach the desired altitude. NASA officials said the space station and its six residents were safe despite their lower-than-intended orbit.   Space station commander Sunita Williams and Japanese astronaut Akihiko Hoshide successfully rerouted ammonia coolant lines and bypassed a radiator believed to be leaking. They isolated the suspect radiator to help flight controllers determine in the coming days whether that, indeed, is the source of the ammonia seepage.   "We've got smiles all around," Mission Control radioed.   Engineers theorize that bits of space junk may have penetrated the radiator or part of its system. Another possibility is that the 12-year-old equipment simply cracked.   The radiators are needed to dissipate heat generated by electronic equipment aboard the space station. Toxic ammonia is used as the coolant, and the spacewalkers took care to avoid contamination. One or two frozen flakes of ammonia harmlessly struck Hoshide's helmet.   Thursday's spacewalk provided some deja vu for Williams. In 2007, she retracted the spare radiator being brought into service Thursday.   "Nice to see it deployed again," she said.   A small leak was detected in this area in 2007. Spacewalking astronauts added extra ammonia last year to shore up the system, but this past summer, the leakage increased fourfold. At that rate, the affected power channel could be offline by the end of the year.   That's why Thursday's spacewalk was ordered up, even though it comes just 2 1/2 weeks before the departure of Williams and Hoshide. The two are scheduled to return to Earth on Nov. 19, after a four-month mission.   Within 5 1/2 hours of going out, Williams and Hoshide had accomplished the bulk of their work. Williams asked how the four guys inside were doing. Busy, but still able to catch some of the spacewalking action, replied U.S. astronaut Kevin Ford.   "We'll have tea on for you," Ford promised.   The spacewalk lasted 6 1/2 hours and bumped Williams into the No. 5 position of most experienced spacewalkers. She has spent 50 hours and 40 minutes out in the vacuum of space over seven spacewalks, the most by a woman.   Spacewalkers tackle coolant leak on space station   Irene Klotz - Reuters   A pair of spacewalking astronauts floated outside the International Space Station on Thursday to bypass a leak in one of the outpost's cooling systems.   Engineers suspect a micrometeoroid or tiny piece of space debris may have punched a hole no bigger than the width of a hair into one of the station's radiators.   The devices dissipate heat from batteries and other equipment aboard the solar-powered station, a $100 billion laboratory for biological, fluid physics and other science experiments now flying about 255 miles above Earth.   Station commander Sunita Williams and flight engineer Akihiko Hoshide left the station's Quest airlock around 8:30 a.m. EDT (1230 GMT) and returned 6.5 hours later after reconfiguring some ammonia coolant lines and hooking up a spare radiator.   "Suni and Aki, our heartfelt congratulations to you and the entire team," astronaut Mike Fincke radioed to the spacewalkers from Mission Control in Houston. "We've accomplished just about everything we set out to do today."   The leak is small so it will take several weeks to determine if the radiator was the source, said space station program manager Mike Suffredini.   If routing ammonia through the spare radiator does not stem the leak, another spacewalk to replace a pump or other equipment in the system may be needed.   Unless it is fixed, the leak would eventually trigger the cooling system to shut down, leaving the station without a backup system for a section of the station's solar arrays.   The cooling system holds about 50 pounds (22.7 kg) of ammonia. It would automatically shut down if the ammonia level drops to 40 pounds (18 kg), said flight director Mike Lammers.   As ground control teams prepared for the spacewalk on Wednesday, the station had to maneuver to avoid another piece of debris, part of the wreckage from the 2009 collision of an Iridium communications satellite and a Russian satellite.   The maneuver fell a bit short due to a software issue that prevented all the thrusters on a Russian cargo ship attached to the station from firing. Still, NASA said the station, a project of 15 nations, was repositioned out of harm's way, with no further rocket firings needed.   While Williams and Hoshide worked outside, their four crewmates began unpacking another Russian Progress cargo ship that arrived on Wednesday.   Spacewalkers reroute coolant lines to isolate leak   Todd Halvorson - Florida Today   Spacewalking astronauts took a first step Thursday in fixing an elusive leak of toxic ammonia coolant at the International Space Station.   Working at the far left end of the station’s 357-foot central truss, the astronauts rerouted coolant lines to stop the flow of ammonia to a suspect radiator.   The coolant now is flowing to an older radiator that was used between 2000 and 2007 and then taken out of service.   That radiator was redeployed by the spacewalkers and now is shedding excess heat built up during the operation of station systems.   “You guys totally rock, and the flight control team really appreciates your work,” U.S. astronaut Mike Fincke told station commander Sunita “Suni” Williams and Japanese flight engineer Akihiko Hoshide from Mission Control. “Good job guys.”   Coolant system engineers think the leak might be coming from a radiator on the left end of the truss, which serves as an anchor for the outpost’s power-producing solar arrays.   The massive arrays convert sunlight into electricity to power the station’s systems. Excess heat then is shed through the radiators.   Engineers over the coming weeks and months will monitor the leak, which began as a trickle in 2007 and worsened in June.   If the leak stops, the source would be pinned down to the radiator taken offline Thursday. If not, then the source would be elsewhere.   It was the seventh spacewalk for Williams. She has tallied 50 hours and 40 minutes working outside the station. Williams now holds the women’s world records for the total number of spacewalks performed and cumulative spacewalking time.   Ahead of the spacewalk, Russian flight controllers fired thrusters on a Progress cargo carrier to boost the station away from threatening space junk.   The thruster firing Wednesday evening only achieved three-quarters of the expected boost due to an incorrect software configuration. But it did successfully move the station out of the path of the debris   Spacewalking Astronauts Isolate Leak in Space Station Cooling System   Mike Wall - Space.com   Two spacewalking astronauts troubleshot an ammonia leak in the International Space Station's cooling system Thursday, accomplishing the chief objective of their marathon excursion outside the orbiting lab.   NASA astronaut Sunita Williams and Japanese spaceflyer Akihiko Hoshide ventured outside the space station at 8:29 a.m. EDT. A little more than five hours later, they had reconfigured some coolant lines and deployed a spare radiator, isolating the leak.   "Suni and Aki, heartfelt congratulations to you," NASA astronaut Mike Fincke, who helped walk the astronauts through their tasks from mission control at the agency's Johnson Space Center in Houston, said at 1:41 p.m. EDT. "We accomplished just about everything we set out to do today."   "A big, huge congratulations to you guys on the ground for putting this together," Williams responded. [Gallery: Building the International Space Station]   Today's spacewalk was slated to last about 6 1/2 hours, and it proceeded pretty much on schedule. By 2:58 p.m. EDT, both astronauts had re-entered the space station through its airlock, and the spacewalk was officially over nine minutes later.   Finding the leak   Each of the space station's eight huge solar panels has its own associated power system, and circulating ammonia helps cool this gear down. The leak, which NASA and its space station partners first noticed in 2007, has the potential to affect one of these power channels if it's not fixed.   Today's spacewalk, or extra-vehicular activity (EVA), is a crucial step in that process.   At the start of the spacewalk, Williams — commander of the station's current Expedition 33 — and Hoshide made their way over to the port side of the station's backbone-like truss. They rejiggered some lines in the affected coolant system and installed a spare radiator.   NASA officials hope this stops the leak, which they suspect may be coming from the old (swapped-out) radiator.   "We're real suspicious of the radiator," spacewalk flight director Mike Lammers, of Johnson Space Center, told reporters last Friday (Oct. 26) during a pre-spacewalk press conference. "It kind of stretches out there and is susceptible to micrometeorite impacts."   The waiting game   Because the leak is so slow, it will likely be several weeks before it's known if the fix works, officials have said.   If ammonia continues to escape, the station's operators will eventually have to try something else. For example, astronauts may need to swap out some of the coolant system's pump gear on another spacewalk. But there likely won't be an urgent need for a new fix, since the spare radiator should provide enough ammonia to keep the coolant system operating until next October or so, officials said.   It should come as no surprise that Williams and Hoshide ticked off their tasks efficiently today, for the two are seasoned spacewalkers. In late August and early September, they replaced a vital power unit on the station over the course of two spacewalks, defeating an unexpectedly stubborn stuck bolt in the process.   Thursday's EVA was the seventh for Williams, the third for Hoshide and the 138th to depart from the station overall.   SpaceX completes system requirements review for crewed launches   Zach Rosenberg - FlightInternational.com   SpaceX has completed the third milestone of its commercial crew integrated capability (CCiCap) contract, finishing the integrated system requirements review (SRR) for a crewed launch system.   The SRR, which was completed at a meeting at SpaceX's Hawthorne, California headquarters on 29 October, signify that NASA is satisfied that the Dragon capsule, Falcon 9 launch vehicle and other components of SpaceX's proposal can meet the CCiCap requirements, and that questions raised at the project kickoff meeting in August have been answered or mooted.   "These initial milestones are just the beginning of a very exciting endeavour with SpaceX." says Ed Mango, NASA's commercial crew programme manager. "We expect to see significant progress from our three CCiCap partners in a fairly short amount of time."   Successfully completing the milestone earns $50 million for SpaceX, the largest in the CCiCap programme to date.   An uncrewed version of the Dragon capsule landed in the Pacific Ocean on 28 October, successfully completing the first commercial cargo resupply flight to the International Space Station.   SpaceX has 14 milestones under the CCiCap programme, worth a total of $440 million upon completion, excluding additional optional milestones.   NASA seeks industry advice for increasing SLS cargo payload   Martin Swant - Huntsville Times   NASA wants the aerospace industry to weigh in on how to carry more cargo on the new Space Launch System heavy-lift rocket.   The agency issued a request for information (RFI) Thursday to industry about payload adapters and fairings already available in the commercial industry.   The initial capacity of the SLS under development by NASA is 77 tons, with the ability to increase through a series of upgrades. The rocket's design is meant to be flexible for crew or cargo missions, but the initial settings will be for NASA's Orion spacecraft, NASA said.   Future configurations could carry science instruments or exploration payloads to the moon, asteroids and Mars.   "This is a no-cost examination of the aerospace landscape to identify existing components that could augment the rocket's architecture as we move beyond the initial Orion configuration," said Todd May, SLS program manager at NASA's Marshall Space Flight Center in Huntsville.   "SLS can make challenging human and science missions possible in large part because of the unprecedented size of the payload it can lift. We are hopeful industry may offer some innovative and affordable ideas about alternative fairing and adapter options."   Cabana: KSC's future is wide-ranging Differing missions envisioned for evolving center   James Dean - Florida Today   A perception persists in some quarters that Atlantis’ exit today from Kennedy Space Center, the last move of a retired shuttle, marks the end of human spaceflight and even of the center itself.   Not so, NASA officials repeated Thursday.   In fact, with a little more than half the workforce it had a few years ago – still more than 8,000 employees – KSC will continue a busy transition intended to transform it into a multi-user spaceport and the launching point for deep-space exploration.   “It finally brings finality to our shuttle program, a phenomenal, 30-year history in that program, and it accomplished a great deal,” center Director Bob Cabana said of Atlantis’ 9.8-mile roll to its new home at the Visitor Complex. “But we have not been standing still for the last year.”   As Atlantis leaves, crews are tearing out the equipment from one former orbiter processing hangar to set it up for The Boeing Co.’s planned assembly of a commercial crew capsule.   KSC is the home of NASA’s Commercial Crew Program, under which the agency is helping Boeing and two other companies to fund and design privately operated space taxis.   Cabana said an agreement with a potential tenant for the other shuttle hangars was in the works.   Meanwhile, a high bay in the Vehicle Assembly Building, which Atlantis is expected to depart around 7 a.m. today, is being renovated to support a heavy-lift rocket NASA is developing to carry astronauts to the moon, an asteroid or eventually Mars.   The Space Launch System is slated for a first, unmanned test launch in 2017 from pad 39B, a former shuttle pad now in a “clean” pad configuration that could potentially support launches of different kinds of rockets.   In the Operations and Checkout Building, a prototype of the Orion crew capsule that will eventually fly atop the giant rocket is being prepared for an unmanned test flight in 2014 from Cape Canaveral.   A mobile launch tower, crawler-transporter and a firing room have also undergone renovations.   And NASA is reviewing proposals to take over operation of the former shuttle runway as a commercial airport and spaceport that would support horizontal launches and landings.   “We’re looking at a myriad of different launch capabilities, launch processing capabilities, and this will be the focal point, I think, for the distant future for human spaceflight, both commercial and government-sponsored,” said Bill Hill, NASA’s assistant deputy associate administrator for Exploration Systems Development.   “Real estate just says, this is the place to come,” added Cabana. “We’ve got the real estate, and we have the facilities and the technical expertise.”   Cabana said KSC is helping NASA headquarters respond to a request from the state of Florida for roughly 150 acres at the north end of the center for development of a commercial launch complex. “We are going to take a close look at it and provide a response that I think will be the right answer for this area and for the state and for what we want to go do,” Cabana said.   Atlantis’ move will feel bittersweet, Cabana said, but he’ll also feel pride in the shuttle program’s accomplishments and knowledge that the history will be shared with millions of visitors.   “It’s going to be phenomenal, and to know that we are going to share that with everybody that comes here, that gives me great pride,” he said. “That makes me happy.”   York astronaut to join road race from space station   Susan Morse – York County Coast Star (Maine)   The next Four on the Fourth road race will really take off as astronaut Chris Cassidy of York plans to take part even though he'll be on the International Space Station next July.   "Chris is going to plan to run on a treadmill simultaneously with the Four on the Fourth," race coordinator Robin Cogger said Wednesday.   Cassidy's space run will be broadcast live to runners on the ground, via a large-screen television set up at the start of the race at York High School, Cogger said.   The astronaut is also expected to welcome runners in a pre-recorded video.   "Prior to his leaving in April, he'll do a video to welcome everybody at the start of the race," Cogger said.   She is also arranging to have the 4-mile course videotaped and given to Cassidy on a disk for him to see what's happening on the ground.   Race T-shirts will be imprinted with a space station design.   Cogger said the event will likely attract runners who might not otherwise sign up, and that it's likely the 1,000-runner limit will be met. Registration opens Jan. 1.   The race is held annually by the town's Parks and Recreation Department and York Rotary.   Cogger and Cassidy went to York High School together. Cassidy graduated in 1988.   The ground-to-space race came together after Cassidy contacted her about finding a way to tie in York and Maine to his stay at the International Space Station from April to September, Cogger said. Cassidy put her in touch with the appropriate people at the National Aeronautics and Space Administration for official approval.   All plans are currently tentative, but signs look good, according to Cogger. "We are so excited," she said.   Cassidy last made an official appearance in York three years ago, when the town proclaimed Oct. 1, 2009, as "Chris Cassidy Day." Cassidy had recently returned from the International Space Station, where he took part in three space walks. The Navy SEAL commander was awarded two Bronze Stars for his military service, including two deployments to Afghanistan.   Going boldly: Behind scenes at NASA's hallowed Mission Control Center Apollo vet Sy Liebergot shows how NASA got men safely to the Moon and back   Lee Hutchinson - Ars Technica   Astronauts have been saying "Houston" into their radios since 1965. The callsign refers in general to the Johnson Space Center in Texas, and the people who answer to it sit in the Mission Control Center, located in Building 30 near the south end of the The Lyndon B. Johnson Space Center (JSC) campus.   "Mission Control" has been the subject of movies, television shows, and documentaries for decades. It's usually depicted as a bustling room filled with serious folks in short-sleeved white shirts and skinny black ties who shout dramatically about damaged spaceships while frantically pressing buttons on chunky 1960s control consoles. What is it really like, though, to sit at one of those consoles? What do all of those buttons do?   On a sunny morning in early October, I hopped in my car to find out. The Johnson Space Center is about a dozen miles from my home in League City, up the newly constructed NASA Bypass and down the historic NASA Road 1. After a short drive, my photographer and I were in line at JSC's main gate. We were meeting contacts from NASA's Public Affairs Office, and they were going to escort us further on-site to Building 30 for an Ars "Mission Control" tour. Our mission? Explain the technical details behind how the room operated—and what it was like to sit at a console and answer those calls from space.   One small step   This wasn't my first time in Building 30. I visited JSC with some frequency during my time at Boeing, though not often enough for the feeling of wonder to wear off. Some people are awed when they go to St. Paul's Basilica, others by visiting Disney World. To me, neither place holds a candle to the Johnson Space Center—this is the place where, 50 years ago, men and women helped execute the greatest engineering achievement in all of human history.   The original plan for my visit was simply to tour the one restored Apollo-era mission control room, to take plenty of pictures, and to give Ars readers a good technical understanding of how "Mission Control" worked during the Apollo era. NASA, however, upped the ante when it assigned my tour guide—none other than Sy Liebergot.   The name should be familiar if you're a fan of manned space flight. Seymour Liebergot, a retired NASA Flight Controller, sat at the EECOM console for Apollo 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, and 15. He was one of the flight controllers responsible for ensuring the safe return of Apollo 13 following the explosion of one of its liquid oxygen tanks (in the film Apollo 13, he's played by director Ron Howard's brother, Clint). Liebergot was present for some of the most monumental moments in space flight, and he was going to walk me through the technical details of Mission Operations Control Room 2. It was like requesting a tour of the Bat Cave and having Alfred show you around the place personally.   JSC looks a lot like a college campus. Situated on 1,600 acres of wetlands between Houston and Galveston, it was constructed during 1962 and 1963, eventually becoming operational in time to shepherd Project Gemini into space. One hundred buildings sit scattered across the property, with the main cluster along NASA Road 1, interspersed with parking lots and neatly maintained green spaces. With the exception of a few recent additions, the buildings of JSC appear every bit the product of their era: 1960s modernist, most mixing terraced concrete and glass. The corridors look like they should exude the odor of decades of cigarette smoke, but the federal government's "no smoking" policy has been in place long enough that most smell faintly of stale coffee instead.   Building 30, which was recently named the "Christopher C. Kraft Jr. Mission Control Center," is a tall and mostly windowless structure, three stories in two wings, joined by a central lobby. Building 30 houses several different "mission control" rooms, which are officially called Flight Control Rooms (FCRs, pronounced "fickers"). When the building was first made operational in 1965 there were a pair of control rooms, then called Mission Operation Control Rooms (MOCRs, "mo-kers").   The MOCRs served NASA through the Shuttle era. The room that housed MOCR 1 has been remodeled and repurposed several times; it is currently used as the International Space Station FCR. MOCR 2, which was used for almost every Gemini and Apollo flight, was restored to its 1960s-era appearance after retirement in 1992. It is now a registered historic landmark.   MOCR 2 is on the third floor of Building 30's Mission Operations Wing. The other floors house the Shuttle and station FCRs, as well as FCR support rooms (called MPSRs, for Multi-Purpose Staff Rooms) and office space. The first floor used to house the Real Time Computing Complex, or RTCC, which during Apollo consisted of five IBM System/360 mainframes and their support equipment. As we'll see, the RTCC was a vitally important part of the MOCR's operations.   After passing through the security doors, Liebergot and I rode an elevator up to the third floor. We walked through high-ceilinged corridors with raised floors covered in rubberized tiles, an arrangement which would be familiar to many IT workers. MOCR 2 occupies the central area of the floor, around some corners and past a low alcove containing lockers and a coffee machine. To enter, we walked up a side ramp much like you would find in a movie theater with stadium seating. MOCR 2 is indeed about the size of a small theater—in fact, the room is sometimes used by NASA to screen Apollo 13 and other space films for selected audiences.   The iconic Ford-Philco-designed consoles are arranged in four tiers stepping down from the rear of the room, separated by a glass wall from the visitor's gallery and a pair of press booths. The room is dimly lit by recessed fluorescents, and Sy informed me the room was kept even darker. That way, it's easier to see the console displays.   Once our NASA contact cleared out some picture takers and shut the doors, MOCR 2 was suddenly cloaked in silence. I could feel the ghosts. Here, in this very room, sitting at these sage-colored consoles, 30 years of manned space flight happened. It felt very much like standing in a cathedral—except that this room wasn't just built to talk to the heavens, but to actually visit them.   The flight controller   The formalized Apollo-era flight controller system was most directly the brainchild of Dr. Christopher Kraft, in whose honor the building is named. During Project Mercury, Kraft was tasked with developing a system of resource management and communications protocols to use when directing space flights, which he based primarily on existing aircraft flight operations procedures. First tested during Project Mercury, the concept of "mission control" and the role of the flight controller evolved and matured through Project Gemini and the relocation of ground control facilities from Florida to Texas.   Each flight controller was responsible for some aspect of the mission. Some consoles were concerned with the performance of the spacecraft's hardware, others for its software, and others for the performance of the distributed communication network that held the entire mission together. A dedicated console communicated with the spacecraft's crew, while others were for management and space center directors to occupy. There's even a console used by a Department of Defense representative, to help coordinate the recovery efforts of the spacecraft after splashdown.   The flight controllers were only the most visible part of an entire dedicated organization. Each position was supported by a staff of specialists in a Staff Support Room, or SSR, commonly referred to as the console's "back room." The controllers were each required to monitor far more information than a single person could absorb, so every controller had a back room to keep additional eyes on their responsibilities. The back rooms handled deep troubleshooting while the controller continued watching the vehicle—in spite of the Hollywood image of mission control, the mission doesn't stop when there's a problem.   The back room staff were usually contractors, while the flight controllers were civil servants. Sy emphasized that the controller/back room relationship was that of a dedicated team and never adversarial. "We made sure, during simulations, if the back room caught a particular fault that the sim guys put in, we would always give them credit," he explained. "If they screwed up, then I would take the blame."   From air to ground and back again   The information on a flight controller's console traveled a long and complex route to get from space to Houston. Voice and data signals from the spacecraft were received by the Manned Space Flight Network—MSFN, or "mis-fin," a system of facilities and ships spread across the globe that NASA used to communicate with spacecraft and satellites. Signals went to NASA's Goddard Space Flight Center in Maryland and were relayed to the Houston Mission Control Center's Communications, Command, and Telemetry System. Everything coming in was recorded on reel-to-reel tapes for record-keeping. Telemetry and systems data from the spacecraft were then routed to the center's five computers, one of which would be designated the mission's primary computer, with another as a hot standby.   The data was processed by the mainframes, then made ready for on-screen display and stored for quick recall by controllers. Voice transmissions were played over one of two air-to-ground audio channels, called "loops," to which all the flight controllers were constantly listening.   The flight controllers' consoles were "dumb"—they contained no computing elements and just displayed what came in from the mainframe. If a controller noticed an anomaly, they investigated by calling up additional information and conferring with their back room, and possibly by calling other controllers or outside engineering resources. It was their job to make a recommendation on what to do about the anomaly, and then present that recommendation to the flight director.   The flight director, sitting in the middle of all the consoles, held ultimate authority over the entire mission. The role is best summarized by legendary Flight Director Gene Kranz, who stated, "The flight director may take any action necessary for crew safety and mission success." The buck stopped at the flight director's desk, and controllers didn't call him until they were ready to recommend some kind of action.   Although everyone was always listening to the air-to-ground loops to keep tabs on the crew, only one controller was allowed to speak to them: CAPCOM, the Capsule Communicator. This streamlined ground-to-air communications and, more importantly, limited the possibility of confusing or contrary directions being sent by different sources. The voice traffic went back to Goddard in Maryland, and from there to whichever MSFN transmission site was currently lined up with the spacecraft.   In certain circumstances, flight controllers needed to transmit individual commands or larger programs to the spacecraft's computers. Simple commands, called "real-time commands," could be directly generated at controllers' consoles and sent via MSFN to the spacecraft, which would execute the commands and send an acknowledgment back to the controller's console, usually within seconds. Larger, more complex programs underwent multiple checks for errors before being queued for transmission, which usually happened at scheduled intervals.   The flight controller's console   Each flight controller position had at least one console, which contained equipment bays of varying sizes where function-specific panels could be mounted. Unlike today, where controls might be software-configurable and easily reprogrammable, the MOCR consoles were all hard-wired for specific tasks. Changing a console's function involved swapping panels and re-wiring things. Few of the consoles in the current restored layout are in their correct Apollo flight configuration: the room was used as a Shuttle FCR for longer than it was an Apollo MOCR, and as we walked around, Sy pointed out that most of the consoles are sporting at least one or two Shuttle control panels. The majority of the consoles contain a pair of Shuttle-era 14" solid-state CRTs (the Apollo displays used vacuum tubes), dual communications panels, a Shuttle-era event indicator module, a manual select keyboard for dialing in different "channels" on the screens, and a status report module.   Several of the consoles, though, are absolutely brimming with authentic Apollo panels. Sy's console in particular, the Electrical, Environmental, and Communications position, or "EECOM," is one that approaches Apollo-era authenticity with its smorgasbord of buttons and lights. Being not made of stone myself, I leaned in and pressed buttons and controls as we walked, flicking back and forth the "ABORT REQUEST" toggle on the Flight Dynamics Officer's panel and toggling non-functional displays. There are no touch-screens here—the buttons are heavy and take a couple of pounds of pressure to depress, and they bottom out with solid metallic "CHUNK" sound.   The popular dramatic depiction of the NASA flight controller that you might see in movies—particularly Apollo 13—differs considerably from reality. On TV and in films, flight controllers are often shown frantically pressing buttons, interacting with the consoles as one would with a modern-day computer. They seem to be in direct control of the distant spacecraft's systems and able to execute a wide range of technical actions with a few snappy commands.   Reality was a different story. For the most part, the consoles of the Apollo era were passive display devices. The majority of the buttons on all of the consoles were used to cycle through different "channels" of information on the console screens. They triggered the recording of the screens to reel-to-reel tape, called up information from the RTCC's random-access core and drum memory or from tape, and communicated with other flight controllers and back room staff. Some positions could also pass commands directly back and forth to the computers in the RTCC, and there were occasions where the MOCR controllers did load new programs and commands into the remote spacecraft's computers. For the most part, though, flight controllers were concerned with monitoring information and passing instructions and recommendations—verbally or written—to the flight director.   Channels on a TV   A variety of information could be displayed on the screens at each controller position or projected up onto the room's front displays. There were a large number of "channels" available for viewing on the two or three screens at each controller station, and each channel could be commanded to show different data displays. Each controller's station had a dedicated set of channels over which it had control, and to which other stations could attach if they wanted to share content. For example, if EECOM wanted to view information about the spacecraft's oxygen tank levels, the EECOM controller would command his console to display the desired "page" on one of the channels under his control. If EECOM then wanted another controller to see what was on his screen, the other controller would dial into the same channel EECOM was using, and his screen would mirror what EECOM was seeing. When EECOM changed the channel to display a different page, the other controller watching EECOM's channel see the new page as well. The controllers had a DSKY—NASA short-hand for "display keyboard"—pre-configured with relevant data pages for their console. They could also manually select channels through a second set of dials and switches.   How each channel was generated, though, is almost shockingly primitive by today's standards. The computers downstairs in the RTCC were responsible for producing the actual data, which could be numbers, a series of plotted points, or a single projected moving point. The System/360 mainframes generated the requested data on a CRT screen using dedicated digital-to-television display generators; positioned over the CRT in turn was a video camera, watching the screen. For the oxygen status display example above, the mainframe would produce a series of numerical columns and print them on the CRT.   The numbers were just that, though. No column headings, no labels, no descriptive text, no formatting, no cell outlines, no nothing—bare, unadorned columns of numbers. In order to make them more understandable, an automated mechanical system would retrieve an actual physical slide containing printed column headings and other formatting reference information from a huge bank of such slides, and place the slide over a light source and project it through a series of lenses into the video camera positioned above the CRT. The mixed image, made up of the CRT's bare columns and the slide containing the formatting, was then transmitted to the controller's console screen as a single video stream.   This process was necessary to dress up and clarify the mainframes' sparse output, since the modern concept of a single unified graphical display consisting of mixed static and dynamic elements was impossible with the era's technology. The mainframe produced the naked numbers or the moving dot, the slide provided the formatting or the background image, and a video camera transmitted the two separate elements sandwiched together for display on the controllers' console screens or for projection up on the big front 10'×20' screen or one of its smaller flanking companions.   By modern computing standards, this seems almost ludicrous; even at the time, the results weren't terribly satisfactory. "We didn't have much plot capability," Sy lamented.   If graphs were needed—if, for example, a controller needed to see how a certain spacecraft parameter was varying over time—controllers could call up snapshots of data using a panel called a SMEK—a Summary Message Keyboard. A SMEK keypress would summon a column of data about a spacecraft subsystem onto the controller's display. Additional keypresses would add additional columns of data for the subsystem, building a set of successive subsystem measurements in order, so that the controller could get a picture of how a parameter was changing over time. Even with the SMEK, though, there was nothing even vaguely resembling Excel with which to construct a graph. Controllers would write down the information on the screen and then pull out the slide rules and graph paper. Or they could summon a hard copy.   Tube technology   Even today, paper plays a huge role in office environments—the promise of a "paperless office" will likely never come to pass—but there are no printers attached to any of the MOCR controller consoles. If an individual flight controller wanted a paper printout of one of his console displays, like a SMEK-produced set of columns, he could depress the "Hard Copy Request" key on his control panel to signal the television subsystem's video recording equipment to tune itself to his display's current channel. The channel's signal was then routed through a hardcopy recording device, which produced a copy of the video signal's current image on thermal paper. The thermal printout was automatically stuffed into a carrier cylinder and shot through a pneumatic tube—much like the kind you'd find at a bank's drive-through teller window—and delivered to the controller's console.   The p-tubes weren't just for summoning hard copies. The system was a complex series of tubes connected by a sophisticated central switching station and could be used to ferry papers and other lightweight objects between console stations or to other points within the Mission Operations Wing. Sometimes it was even employed to grant access to the MOCR during a mission. During flights, the MOCR was a highly restricted area, and not even the back room staff were allowed on the floor. Sy explained that the controllers had a supply of temporary MOCR access badges at their consoles, and if they needed to bring a back room person up to their console, they would whisk a badge directly to them via the p-tube.   Many voices   One type of control common to every single console is a large communications panel, called a PABX panel (for "Private Automatic Branch Exchange"—JSC's internal phone system), which tied each flight controller into a complex hierarchical set of local MOCR-only communications channels called "voice loops," along with the site-wide phone system, and also the public switched telephone system. An ordered system of communications was vital to the execution of complicated missions, and controllers observed strict communications discipline as they worked.   The PABX modules were central to each controller's job. The ones in MOCR 2 today are mostly early Shuttle-era, but during Apollo they consisted of an array of paired buttons, with a yellow and a white button for each of the available communications loops. Pressing a loop's yellow button allowed the controller to listen in on the loop, and pressing the loop's white button raised its volume slightly and allowed the controller to speak on that loop as well.   I knew that controllers frequently had to listen to multiple audio loops at once, and I asked Sy about how many loops he would typically monitor. The answer surprised me: he would usually have eight audio loops playing into his headset at any given moment. Though they were usually only actively speaking on one loop at a time, controllers would be listening to a large number of things going on. The different loops might be carrying different simultaneous conversations, and the controllers would have to pick out the important bits from the overlapping flow of words and file the rest. "A lot of us probably have tinnitus...from having an earpiece stuck in your ear blasting away for twenty years," he joked.   Above all else, every single controller listened continually to the air-to-ground loop being relayed from the mission spacecraft, paying attention to every word spoken by the spacecraft's crew. If a controller needed to temporarily go offline, to conference with another controller or to take a bathroom break, he'd tell his back room to make sure they were monitoring air-to-ground before he turned his attention away. Crew communication was prioritized above all else.   I assumed that the flight director in his central role would have the biggest loop monitoring burden of all the controllers, but Sy said no. The flight director functioned more as the switching station, watching the entire mission, selectively monitoring a few loops at a time, and pulling controllers into one-on-one conferences at his console to clarify things as needed. When the flight director wanted more details on something, the controller responsible would usually pull the necessary documentation (each station had shelves of three-ring binders hanging behind them, which contained every conceivable bit of information about their particular systems) and step up to the flight director's desk and talk directly, keeping the voice loops free of yet another conversation.   Flashing lights   Even when augmented by a back room staff, there was a tremendous amount of information for each controller to track. The primitive display technology prevented the controllers from being able to directly watch more than a few things at once, and so they employed a secondary system of event notification panels to light up when spacecraft parameters would go out of normal boundaries.   "We would set limits tighter than the fail limits, the upper and lower limits, of a parameter," Sy explained, standing by his EECOM desk and pointing at the row of event notification lights atop the dual displays. "We'd set them a little bit tighter so we could be alerted to a change off the nominal. For example, the cabin pressure was 5.0 [PSI]; if it went to 5.5 or down to 4.7, we would get alerted." This kind of a deviation would cause one of the limit sense lights to illuminate, showing the system and parameter which was misbehaving. The controller would then know which display page to call up on his console's screens.   "We could go look up what that was and then we would look down on the display and we would have an asterisk next to that parameter," he continued. Relying on the notification panel to direct them to problems saved the controllers from having to continually sweep through all of the different video pages on their displays manually. The system was refined further after Apollo 13. "What happened there was that so much failed nearly at the same time," Sy continued, "that it was just a big cascading failure and you just couldn't tell where it started." In response to this, new critical systems monitoring panels were added which would light up if a critical parameter deviated and then remain lit, even if the system drifted back into normal range—prior to that, the limit sense lights would go dark if a system's parameters returned to normal. This change was crucial, since until Apollo 14 when the changes were made, a transitory problem might go unnoticed if too many other things were happening at once.   There wasn't a single master computer program responsible for alerting each controller when his part of the spacecraft needed attention—the controllers themselves and their manually set limit sense directives filled a role that today would be handled mainly by software. The consoles alerted the operator when parameters edged up or down out of a band of allowed settings, and the operator had to determine exactly what the deviation meant. Worse, until the introduction of monitoring panels with indicators that would remain lit after a problem reading had returned to normal, controllers could only get a full sense of a problem's scope by replaying the telemetry tapes. This could hamper a controller's ability to see the whole picture and understand the root cause of a problem.   "We always worked backward," he said, hinting at a troubleshooting methodology that will be familiar to most IT workers. "If there was a problem, if I saw it first, I'd alert my back room—I'd say, 'EPS, did you see that?'" referring to one half of the EECOM console back room team, the half dealing with the electrical power systems of the Apollo Command and Service Modules. "And he'd say 'I'm looking at it right now and I've got it on the strip-chart and we're checking the trend on it.' Or if they saw something, they would call me," he continued, "and they would say 'EECOM, this is EPS, looks like we've got a problem developing with fuel cell number two,' and we'd discuss it."   If it looked like the problem was an actual problem and not a temporary anomaly, the controller would loop in the flight director. "My report to the flight director up the line would be, 'Looks like we've got a problem with the fuel cell two coolant'"—he noted here that he's actually describing an incident which occurred during Apollo 10 when they lost a fuel cell on the Service Module—"'so have the crew go to panel two-twenty-six and check circuit breaker twenty-five, phase A.'"   I interjected with a question: "Did you try not to report anything to FLIGHT unless you had at least a sketch of a solution in mind?"   "I had to tell him what action I needed," Sy confirmed. "You don't go to him and say, 'Hey, I got a problem.' You say, 'I have a problem with fuel cell two, this is the action I need to take.'"   Follow the leader   I asked Sy for a few words about the people who sat at the FLIGHT console, and we spoke about three famous flight directors as examples: Chris Kraft, Gene Kranz, and Glynn Lunney. Kraft, who held the title of flight director through the end of Project Gemini, defined the mold—smart, decisive, and sometimes abrasive. Sy describes Chris Kraft as being extremely intelligent; his most notable characteristic was an incredibly insightful ability to prioritize and sort through huge stacks of information and pick out the most important things, then act on them.   Glynn Lunney, who served as a flight director during Gemini and Apollo, was a protege of Kraft and if anything was even sharper. In his autobiography Flight, Kraft refers to Lunney as a "sponge" for information. Sy recalls that Lunney had an uncanny ability to absorb and understand technical information almost instantly and without apparent effort.   Gene Kranz, certainly the most famous Apollo-era flight director (in no small part thanks to Ed Harris's portrayal in Apollo 13), had been Chris Kraft's assistant flight director since Mercury. He was "Mr. Cool," according to Sy. While he might not have had Kraft or Lunney's almost unsettling technical intuition, he more than made up for it through sheer force of will. "Lunney and Kraft would do things by inspiration; Kranz would do things by perspiration," Sy said. "No less smart, just with those German genes. He was prepared for anything." Kranz was relentless in his preparation for missions, devouring manuals and procedures. "He didn't wait to learn it" on the spot, like Kraft or Lunney, Sy recalled. "He knew it all ahead of time."   The mood   In the movies, a spacecraft launch is often accompanied by bombastic music and the seat-juddering bass of rockets thundering, with shots of flight controllers frantically mashing buttons intercut with shaky-cam special effects of the launch vehicle clawing its way skyward. I asked Sy about what a person actually experienced while sitting at a console during launch, and it turns out that reality, again, is a very different place from fiction.   When the launch countdown clock hit zero on an Apollo mission, the quiet MOCR remained quiet. "We're looking up at the group display, the 10'-by-20'," at the front of the control room, Sy said, "because the FDO [Flight Dynamics Officer] has put up the launch parameters to see that we are tracking the predicted trajectory. It's quiet. We're watching our data and making sure that we don't miss anything in that time-compressed nine minutes"—the amount of time it took the Saturn V to reach orbit.   There was also a lot of writing going on. Many pictures exist of controllers scribbling in binders, and each controller kept a console log of the important events which happened during his shift, especially the flight director. The FLIGHT's logbook was the most detailed of all—it was his responsibility to notate every single mission event of any significance, and the controller logbooks were part of the legal and historical record for the mission. The primitiveness of the computers made such manual recording a vital adjunct to the raw computer records kept on reel-to-reel tape. "I have a picture of Kranz, talking to some guys," said Sy, "and his console log is open on the console." The logbooks were three-ring binders. "And the page was curled over almost 360 degrees—he pressed that hard with his ball-point pen. He was very intense!"   When lightning strikes   Two incidents in particular serve as capsule examples of the role of the flight controller during crisis and specifically the EECOM position sat by Sy Liebergot. The first is the dual lightning strike suffered by Apollo 12 during launch, and the second is the much-dramatized oxygen tank explosion on Apollo 13.   The Apollo 12 incident is more easily described. Apollo 12 was slated to be the first precision Moon landing, improving on Neil Armstrong's off-target touchdown on Apollo 11. The launch was a wet one, taking place during a rain storm. The mission rules in place suggested that launching during a storm should be avoided, "But what happened was that Rocco Petrone, who was the launch director down at the Cape, and Gerry Griffin, who was the flight director here, had never done a launch before, and they went!" Sy laughed. "So, we made lightning!"   A bit over 36 seconds after liftoff, as the Saturn V powered skyward, the rocket triggered a burst of lightning which conducted all the way down to the launch tower via the rocket's exhaust plume. Barely 20 seconds later, a second lightning strike again hit the vehicle. The Apollo 12 crew wasn't aware that they had been hit by lightning, but they were aware that suddenly, a huge number of failures began lighting up their spacecraft's warning panels.   "OK, we just lost the platform, gang. I don't know what happened here; we had everything in the world drop out," radioed Navy Captain and mission commander Pete Conrad, just 62 seconds after the launch. "I got three fuel cell lights, an AC bus light, a fuel cell disconnect, AC bus overload 1 and 2, Main Bus A and B out." The fuel cells in the Service Module supplied electrical power to the Command Module's computers, but had been knocked offline by the lightning. The strike also affected the electrical circuitry (the busses) which connected the spacecraft's systems to their power supplies. The Command Module suddenly found itself on battery power. "We always launched with the entry batteries online, just in case, because we could recharge them later in-flight," Sy explained, referring to the Command Module's reentry batteries. They were intended to supply power for the few hours during the final phase of the mission, after the Command Module separated from the Service Module and went through atmospheric reentry and splashdown. The batteries being available to supply power in case of just such a fuel cell failure gave the crew and the ground controllers time to assess the situation.   On the ground, things were equally bad. Sy had been the prelaunch EECOM for the mission, responsible for the electrical components of the Apollo spacecraft, and though he had gone off-shift shortly before the launch, he had stuck around to watch. The EECOM desk was manned by John Aaron, famously known as NASA's "steely eyed missile man" for his cool performance under pressure ("He was the super-EECOM," Sy commented). When the launch vehicle was hit, all of the ground telemetry feeds displayed on the controllers' consoles went scrambled. The responsibility to determine what happened fell squarely on EECOM's shoulders.   "John just sat there," said Sy, as we leaned against the back of the EECOM desk. "He never said a word. Never even asked his back room anything. He just stared at the data." The reentry batteries still registered as functional in his telemetry feeds, but everything else was garbled or missing. The pattern of failures, though, seemed familiar. "He remembered seeing that [pattern] during a pad test, and it was obviously an instrumentation problem. When the lightning hit, it kicked the three fuel cell powerplants offline." The spacecraft's reverse-current sensor had disconnected the fuel cells to save them from being damaged by the lightning's surge of current. "It appeared that the power supply for the Signal Conditioning Equipment... was gone."   The Signal Conditioning Equipment (SCE) is a vital piece of hardware, because it takes all of the various raw signals from the spacecraft's instruments and converts them to the correct format for transmission to the ground so that they can be understood by the computers in the RTCC. With the SCE not functioning, the spacecraft was effectively transmitting gibberish.   "But we had an auxiliary power supply," for the SCE, explained Sy, and John Aaron knew that activating it should bring the SCE back online. That ought to restore the telemetry feeds and let them figure out what else had happened. "John asked for the [SCE] switch to be put... to the 'aux' position."   Twenty-four seconds after Conrad's last status report, the transcripts show Gerald Carr, the CAPCOM, radioing back to the spacecraft: "Apollo 12, Houston. Try SCE to auxiliary. Over."   Conrad's response is immediate: "Try FCE to Auxiliary? What the hell is that?"   Conrad had no idea what control CAPCOM was asking for, even repeating it back incorrectly. Sy shook his head as he recounted, "Most of the crews admitted they didn't know crap about the comm systems—they were too complicated!" In spite of the system's overall complexity, the seemingly endless amount of simulations done before the mission had given Aaron a deep familiarity with the electrical pathways of the spacecraft, and enabled him to make a split-second call that saved the mission. The crew sorted out where the switch was and toggled it, and within a few moments the telemetry data began to show up clearly again. "Gerry [Griffin] was back there ready to throw the 'Abort Request' switch... If John had said, 'We gotta abort,' they would have aborted."   Once the telemetry was back, it became clear the fuel cells had gone offline; the controllers were able to direct the crew to put them back online, one by one, and then to recalibrate the Command Module's guidance platform and prepare for their trip to the Moon. Without Aaron's near-instant recall of an obscure panel switch, the mission would have been aborted before it really even started, with potentially profound implications for the rest of the Apollo program schedule.   (The incident is dramatized with an apparent high degree of accuracy in HBO's 1998 miniseries, From the Earth to the Moon.)   Failure is, famously, not an option   The mission would become known as NASA's "finest hour." It started ignominiously enough, with no one really paying attention. Apollo 11 and 12 had successfully landed without anyone getting blown up or lost in space. Landing on the Moon had become routine in the eyes of the public, so the live television coverage of all aspects of the mission which had filled the previous two manned Apollo flights was absent. No one was watching.   That changed about 56 hours into the mission, when a routine order to activate a stir-fan in one of the Service Module's oxygen tanks resulted in a spacecraft-crippling explosion. During the long coast between the Earth and the Moon, the slush liquid oxygen in the tanks would separate into layers, and getting an accurate reading on the tank's fill level became difficult. To get around this, the tanks each contained a small fan to agitate the contents back into a measurable state. The number-two oxygen tank had been damaged during its pre-launch inspection process. An attempt to empty it had resulted in the inside of the tank being subjected to extremely high temperatures, which in turn damaged the Teflon insulation on the wiring leading to its stir fan. When the time came during the mission to activate the fan and stir the tank contents for measuring, power passing through the damaged wires caused a spark, igniting the stratified oxygen.   In Ron Howard's Apollo 13, the effect is immediate and dramatic, with the spacecraft shimmying around like a drunk Vegas dancer, but in reality the crew only heard a dull "bang" sound. It was several minutes before they realized the problem was serious, with the spacecraft's oxygen supply slowly venting out into space. The world's attention quickly focused on the mission, and the "routine" trip to the Moon became a spectacle. The death of another Apollo crew—just three years after the Apollo 1 fire which killed Ed White, Roger Chaffee, and Gus Grissom—would likely have spelled an end to Project Apollo and potentially NASA's entire manned program.   The story has been told and retold in great detail—in fact, Sy recommends the IEEE's three-part article, "Houston, We Have a Solution" as the most complete and accurate retelling of the entire Apollo 13 explosion and its aftermath. That piece sheds a lot of light on the process of troubleshooting the damaged spacecraft, and it also discusses how controllers looked for problems. The extensive mission simulations the controllers went through fixated them on finding issues within the vehicle's instrumentation and how it reported back to ground, rather than physical damage, explosions, or holes. This fixation at first sent them down the wrong track for Apollo 13's very physical problem. The initial assessment of the Apollo 13 incident mirrored that of Apollo 12's lightning strike: something was clearly very, very wrong, but so many parameters were showing up off-nominal that it didn't seem possible the failures could reflect an actual mechanical, physical problem.   Sy's first call to Flight Director Gene Kranz was, "We may have an instrumentation problem, FLIGHT." In the IEEE article, Sy is quoted as later reflecting that this call "... was the understatement of the manned space program. I never did live that down."   However, those same simulations imparted an intimate knowledge of the Apollo spacecraft, down to its individual circuits. Sy described a typical "sim," highlighting the deep level of systems knowledge a flight controller and his back room team were expected to have. "One of the things the sim guys like to do is fail a telemetry gate, which would be a solid state chip that would pass through five or six parameters. We had drawings of all of that, and so what they would do is fail one of those gates and we'd look for those five or six parameters and we'd say 'Ah, it's that one', that particular gate, and we'd know what we'd lost." The controllers had to have near-total familiarity with the schematics of the systems they controlled, down to understanding where each circuit went, and that level of familiarity can only come through long hours of drills and simulations. That familiarity is what let Sy articulate the steps necessary to stop its bleeding oxygen out into space, once the realization dawned on him that Apollo 13's problems were manifestly physical.   The exploding oxygen tank had damaged the Service Module's fuel cells, which generated electricity for the spacecraft by combining oxygen and hydrogen. The oxygen from the other tanks was leaking through the damaged fuels cells out into space. Isolating them from the oxygen supply would therefore stop the leak. In Ron Howard's film, once controllers realize the scope of the problem, Sy Liebergot (again, played by Howard's famously odd-looking brother, Clint) informs the flight director the only way to stop the leak is to close the valves on the connections between the hydrogen and oxygen tanks and the fuel cells—the "REAC valves." Mission rules stated that the Apollo spacecraft needed at least two functioning fuel cells to generate the required amount of power to successfully accomplish the mission, so permanently disabling two fuel cells—"The whole smash," Tom Hanks says, misquoting what Lovell says in the transcripts—meant Apollo 13 would not be landing on the Moon.   The moment is treated with a tremendous amount of gravity in the film, with much soulful acting on the part of Hanks as mission commander Jim Lovell. In order to clue the audience in that the valve closure meant the mission was over, he looks despairingly at his crew and quietly states, "We just lost the Moon."   Sy points out that Ron Howard and Tom Hanks took tremendous liberties with the film, which Ron Howard has also acknowledged. "I only asked for one fuel cell," Sy says, where in the film they immediately shut down two. "We didn't allow ourselves to believe that both fuel cells were dead... My request was to close the reactant valves to fuel cell three, only."   The request to disconnect fuel cell one didn't come until nearly a half-hour later, when it became clear that the oxygen leak hadn't been contained. This is reflected in the mission transcripts, with the order to disconnect the first fuel cell being transmitted at Mission Elapsed Time 02:08:57:27 (that is, two days, eight hours, 57 minutes and 27 seconds after launch), and the call to disconnect the second not arriving until almost 20 minutes later at MET 02:09:15:04. Entertainment often takes priority over historical accuracy, because history doesn't usually fit the neat dramatic beats which storytelling requires.   The EECOM desk, manned by Sy Liebergot and John Aaron and others, was absolutely essential to the safe return of Apollo 13. Sy was quick to downplay his role in the Apollo 13 crisis: "I didn't save anything—I just didn't get up and run!" In spite of his modesty, his role in keeping the crew alive is very clear, and it highlights the importance of the flight controller process in general and EECOM specifically.   "It's just not there"   Sy was involved after Apollo with the Shuttle program, and in 1979 he spent time participating in planning and design work on an early space station concept which would have functioned as a low Earth orbit transportation and construction node for manned missions to Mars and other destinations. The work was eventually supplanted by the ramp-up of Space Station Freedom, which itself was repeatedly scaled back and eventually given life as today's International Space Station (though vastly reduced in size and scope from the original plans).   I've written before on NASA's mission, and Sy spoke his mind freely as we neared the end of our interview. He sees the detrimental effect a lack of vision and program direction has had on the agency. "I do a lot of lecturing," he notes, "And during Q&As people will say, 'Well, you know, we've got... Orion, and we have the SLS,'" referring to Lockheed's Orion spacecraft currently in development, and the Space Launch System heavy-lift rocket being designed to carry it (as well as large cargoes) into orbit.   "Yeah, so?" Sy shakes his head. "They're two separate entities that could get canceled at any time. There's no umbrella project or program to encompass that. We're talking about a mission to Mars, and it's just not there."   As we drove away from the center back toward Building 110 to sign out, I asked Sy about what one does after something like Project Apollo. He painted a sketch of an agency in transition in the mid-to-late 1970s, shifting from a functional bureaucratic monster more and more toward a moribund bureaucratic monster. The career path within NASA for a flight controller wasn't really clear; talk of promotions and raises, even for civil servants, wasn't high on management's radar. NASA's rush to meet John Kennedy's end-of-the-decade lunar challenge and the subsequent Project Apollo flights were all-consuming. Today, things are of course different. I'm friends with no small number of government employees, and career planning is a continual activity. The flight controllers of the Apollo era were caught up in the present, so much so that it was difficult to see the future.   Most of the Apollo flight controllers were in their early-to-mid thirties when they manned their consoles. Gene Kranz was 32 when he sat his first shift as FLIGHT in 1965; Sy Liebergot was exactly my age, two months past his 34 birthday, when Apollo 13's oxygen tank exploded in 1970. The people who sat in MOCR 2 and guided Project Apollo to the lunar surface probably couldn't conceive of a future where space would be as peripheral a concern as it is among today's politicians and decision-makers. It is a heartbreaking thing to sit among the MOCR 2 consoles, which look almost prehistoric in their construction and ergonomics, and know that we once went so far with so little. Now, even though the laptop I brought into MOCR 2 with me has the processing power and memory of a thousand Apollo mainframes, no humans venture beyond low earth orbit, and MOCR 2 is a reminder of where we have been and where we are unlikely to ever go again.   Once, we dared. Now, we simply reminisce.   Link to article with photos: http://arstechnica.com/science/2012/10/going-boldly-what-it-was-like-to-be-an-apollo-flight-controller/   SpaceX success   Orlando Sentinel (Editorial)   Amid a news cycle dominated by the presidential campaign, the recent successful end to the first official private cargo mission to the International Space Station went largely unheralded. And that's not such a bad sign.   SpaceX, the California-based rocket builder, launched a Falcon 9 rocket and Dragon capsule from Cape Canaveral on Oct. 7 carrying more than 800 pounds of supplies for the space station. The capsule safely splashed down in the Pacific three weeks later, packed with almost twice as much Earth-bound stuff from the station.   Though the mission wasn't perfect — one of the rocket's engines shut down after launch, and it failed to deliver a private satellite to the proper orbit — it went well enough that NASA Administrator Charlie Bolden and SpaceX CEO Elon Musk were crowing afterward.   The positive results backed up the Obama administration's smart decision to privatize the job of carrying cargo — and in a few more years, astronauts — to low Earth orbit so that NASA can focus its limited resources on deep-space exploration.   SpaceX plans 11 more cargo missions to the station under a $1.6 billion contract with NASA. Those missions are set to launch from Cape Canaveral, a badly needed boost for the Space Coast after last year's end of the shuttle program. Continued success could pave the way for more Florida missions from SpaceX and other private rocketeers.   Critics called privatization in space too risky. Now it's heading toward routine. That's good for the space program, for Florida and for the nation.   Space Shuttle Atlantis – The last 10 miles…   'An amazing career': Atlantis painted a proud legacy From super-secret missions to paving a path to the ISS   Todd Halvorson - Florida Today   Climb onto the flight deck of Atlantis and a first stark impression is that things are pretty cramped — this is not the expansive bridge of the Starship Enterprise.   But attention quickly shifts to glowing flat-screen, liquid crystal color displays that graphically show the orbiter’s attitude, altitude, velocity and other key flight indicators as well as the status of shuttle systems.   Atlantis in 1998 became the first orbiter outfitted with a modern “glass cockpit,” one that replaced old-fashioned mechanical dials, gauges and green cathode ray displays.   And a look back at its 33 flights shows a history of firsts — some stellar, world- renown successes, others still hush-hush, super-secret.   “An amazing career,” said Stephanie Stilson, the NASA manager in charge of prepping Atlantis for display at the Kennedy Space Center Visitor Complex. “A storied past for sure.”   NASA’s OV-104 (Orbiter Vehicle 104) was contractually born on Jan. 29, 1979.   Assembly of its crew module began on March 3, 1980, and its delta-shaped wings arrived at Air Force Plant 42 in Palmdale, Calif., three months later.   Atlantis rolled out of the plant on March 6, 1985, and then over to nearby Edwards Air Force Base.   Flying atop a 747 carrier aircraft, Atlantis arrived at Kennedy Space Center on April 9, 1985. Its first flight — STS-51J — blasted off from Launch Complex 39A on Oct. 3, 1985.   The spaceship landed at Edwards four days later. In between, five astronauts reportedly deployed two advanced military communications satellites.   The classified mission was the second of 10 fully dedicated Department of Defense shuttle flights flown between 1985 and the end of 1992.   Atlantis was a military workhorse, flying five of those clandestine missions — more than any other shuttle.   And Atlantis, which is named for a research vessel operated by Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute, also made its mark in solar system and galactic exploration.   The orbiter in 1989 launched NASA’s first interplanetary flight from the shuttle, dispatching the Magellan Venus radar mapper.   NASA’s Galileo mission to Jupiter launched aboard Atlantis that same year, and the orbiter in 1990 hauled up the Compton Gamma Ray Observatory, which studied highly energetic explosions in distant galaxies.   But Atlantis might best be remembered for its contributions to the International Space Station — particularly a tenuous first phase when the U.S. and the former Soviet Union joined to fly shuttle missions to the Mir space station.   Atlantis flew the first seven of nine shuttle docking missions to Mir.   Seven NASA astronauts completed long-duration tours on Mir, and America and Russia bridged significant language, cultural and operational barriers.   Dubbed “Phase One,” the shuttle-Mir program paved the way for the assembly of the International Space Station.   People who worked on Atlantis at KSC remember OV-104 as a record-setter.   In the shuttle processing world, minimizing “turnaround time” — the time between a shuttle landing and its next launch — always was a key goal.   In 1985, Atlantis laid down a benchmark that still stands.   Atlantis capped its first flight with a California landing, was transported back to KSC and launched again in fast fashion.   “It returned to space 50 days after it landed,” said Terry White, 63, a longtime shuttle processing facility manager.   “We had it in the hangar 26 days,” White said, far short of the more typical three- to six-month processing time.   Now that’s impressive.   Final 10-mile trek for space shuttle Atlantis   Marcia Dunn - Associated Press   Space shuttle Atlantis' final journey to retirement is down broad industrial avenues, most of them off-limits to the public. So Friday's trek won't replicate the narrow, stop-and-go turns Endeavour encountered last month while navigating downtown Los Angeles.   The mastermind behind Atlantis' slow 10-mile march through Kennedy Space Center is sweating bullets nonetheless.   Atlantis is the last of NASA's space shuttles to hit the road. It was the last to blast into orbit, more than a year ago, and its final crew members were expected to join a few dozen other astronauts at Friday's daylong hurrah.   "It's only a priceless artifact driving 9.8 miles and it weighs 164,000 pounds," said Tim Macy, director of project development and construction for Kennedy's visitor complex operator, the company Delaware North.   "Other than that, no pressure at all," Macy said, laughing. "Only the eyes of the country and the world and everybody at NASA is watching us. But we don't feel any pressure." He paused. "Of course, we feel pressure!"   The relocation of Atlantis has been plotted out for months, he noted, and experienced shuttle workers will take part.   "It's not like it's Tim and his buddies out here loading this up," Macy said last week. "We're using the expertise of NASA."   Atlantis will travel a mere 2 mph atop a 76-wheeled platform. The roundabout loop will take the shuttle past Kennedy's headquarters building for a ceremony and then to a still-under-design industrial park for public viewing. Tourist tickets run as high as $90 apiece for a chance to see the spaceship up close.   Crews removed 120 light poles, 23 traffic signals and 56 traffic signs in order for Atlantis to squeeze by. One high-voltage power line also had to come down. Staff trimmed back some scrub pines, but there was none of the widespread tree-axing that occurred in Los Angeles.   Atlantis will traverse just one noticeable incline, a highway ramp. The rest of the course is sea-level flat.   The grand entrance into Atlantis' new home also should be smooth going. One complete wall of the exhibit hall was kept off, carport-style, so the shuttle could roll right in. Construction will begin on the missing wall early next week.   Once safely inside, Atlantis will be plastic-wrapped for protection until the building is completed. The grand opening is set for July 2013.   Total exhibit cost: $100 million, a price borne by Delaware North.   Discovery, the oldest and most traveled space shuttle, was the first to leave the nest, zooming off to the Smithsonian in Virginia in April atop a modified jumbo jet. Endeavour, the baby of the fleet, headed west in September.   Here is a brief look at each of NASA's space shuttles in the order they flew, including the prototype Enterprise:   Enterprise: Shuttle prototype used in jetliner-drop tests over Edwards Air Force Base in California in 1977, never flew in space. Originally on display at Smithsonian Institution hangar in Virginia, it was flown to New York City this past April and moved into the Intrepid Sea, Air and Space Museum in June.   Columbia: Destroyed during descent on Feb. 1, 2003, after 28 missions stretching back to 1981. All seven astronauts were killed. The wreckage is stored in NASA's Vehicle Assembly Building at Kennedy Space Center, for research purposes.   Challenger: Destroyed during launch on Jan. 28, 1986, after 10 missions stretching back to 1983. All seven astronauts were killed. Buried in a pair of abandoned missile silos at Cape Canaveral Air Force Station.   Discovery: Moved to Smithsonian Institution hangar in Virginia in April after 39 missions stretching back to 1984.   Atlantis: Being moved Friday to Kennedy Space Center Visitor Center after 33 missions stretching back to 1985.   Endeavour: Flown to Los Angeles in September and moved into California Science Center in October after 25 missions stretching back to 1992. It was the replacement for space shuttle Challenger.   NASA's last space shuttle heading to Florida retirement home   Irene Klotz - Reuters   NASA's third and last surviving space shuttle will move to its retirement home on Friday after a 10-mile road trip from the Kennedy Space Center in Florida.   Atlantis, which ended the 30-year-old space shuttle program with a final flight last year, will be the star attraction of a new $100 million exhibit at the privately operated Kennedy Space Center Visitor Complex adjacent to the NASA spaceport.   Delaware North Companies Parks & Resorts, which operates the visitors' center, plans to suspend the 154,000-pound (69,853-kg) spaceship from the ceiling with its cargo bay doors open to simulate the vehicle in orbit.   Atlantis, which flew 33 missions, is the third and last operational space shuttle to become a museum piece.   Discovery is on display at the National Air and Space Museum's Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center in Chantilly, Virginia. Endeavour last month took a cross-country flight on a transporter plane to Los Angeles for display at the California Science Center.   The prototype shuttle Enterprise, which was used for atmospheric tests but never flew in space, was relocated from the Smithsonian Institution's Air and Space Museum to the Intrepid Sea, Air & Space Museum, located on the Hudson River in New York City.   The storm Sandy knocked out power to Enterprise's pressurized pavilion as it passed over on Monday, causing the pavilion to deflate. The shuttle sustained minor damage, the museum said in a statement.   Travel plans for Atlantis are simple but moving a 122-foot long (37-meter), 78-foot (24-meter) wide spaceship requires planning.   "We have some logistics we're handling but actually it's really manageable," said Tim Macy, director of project development and construction for Delaware North.   To make way for Atlantis, crews have temporarily removed 120 light poles, 23 traffic signals, 66 road signs and one high-voltage power line.   Perched aboard a 76-wheel transporter, Atlantis is scheduled to depart the Kennedy Space Center's Vehicle Assembly Building around 6:30 a.m. EDT (1030 GMT) on Friday. After stopping for a NASA ceremony and viewing opportunities along the way, the shuttle should arrive at the Visitor Complex about 12 hours later.   One wall of the 90,000-square foot (8,361-square meter) building that will house Atlantis has been left off to accommodate the shuttle's arrival.   "The backside of the building is wide open and allows us drive in. It is more like a carport right now," Macy said. "As soon as we get it in, we start filling in behind it."   With the departure of Atlantis, about 300 remaining shuttle contractors will find themselves out of a job.   NASA is in the midst of transitioning its Florida spaceport into a multi-user launch facility to support a variety of government and commercial rockets.   Three firms are designing spaceships to fly astronauts and fare-paying customers to and from orbit. NASA, meanwhile, is working on its own heavy-lift rocket and capsule to travel to destinations such as the moon and Mars that are beyond Earth's orbit.   Spotlight's on shuttle Atlantis, but that's not all Expect life-size booster, tank replicas and simulators that offer a taste of spaceflight   Dave Berman - Florida Today   Even after space shuttle Atlantis is safely inside its new home at the Kennedy Space Center Visitor Complex tonight, much work will remain to get the exhibit ready for its planned opening in July.   And while the orbiter will be the star of the show, officials promise much more to catch your eye.   Among Tim Macy’s favorite features is an interactive wall with touchscreens offering highlights of individual shuttle missions, as well as simulators that will give visitors a taste of what it takes to land an orbiter.   Macy, director of project development and construction for Delaware North Companies Parks & Resorts, which operates the Visitor Complex for NASA, said, for 13-year-old boys, a memorable exhibit may be one detailing how astronauts go to the bathroom in space.   In promotional material, Visitor Complex officials described the exterior of the Atlantis exhibit as “comprised of two sweeping architectural elements, or wings, representing the space shuttle’s launch and return.”   “The outer layer of the building, which will be cloaked in iridescent hues of orange and gold, represents the fiery glow of re-entry. The taller, internal wing of the building will be covered in a shimmering tile pattern in varying tones of gray, designed to represent the tiled underside of the orbiter.”   Even the entryway is designed to be a spectacle. This is how Visitor Complex officials describe it:   “At the entrance to the Atlantis exhibit, guests will be greeted by a full-size, upright, replica external tank and two solid rocket boosters. On the opposite side of the tank and booster assembly, a silhouette of the orbiter is attached to show guests its exact size and placement.”   The goal: give visitors a sense of the massive size of a shuttle preparing for launch.   The project cost is estimated at $100 million, and is funded with revenue generated by Visitor Complex admission, parking, food, beverage and souvenir sales. No tax money is used to fund the Visitor Complex.   8,000 set to cheer momentous move of Atlantis to Visitor Complex Today, Atlantis leaves VAB   Dave Berman - Florida Today   Tim Macy expects an emotional journey today, as space shuttle Atlantis moves from the Kennedy Space Center Vehicle Assembly Building to its new permanent home at the KSC Visitor Complex — the last 9.8 miles the orbiter will ever travel.   Macy, director of project development and construction for Delaware North Companies Parks & Resorts, which operates the Visitor Complex for NASA, is the point person for Atlantis’ daylong journey.   Today’s event marks the last move of any of the shuttle orbiters; Discovery, Endeavour and Enterprise already have been transported to their retirement homes.   Also, with KSC as the orbiters’ homeport and shuttle program launch site, there will be the added emotion of space shuttle workers watching the move in person, and some witnessing the ceremony when NASA officially turns over the orbiter to the Visitor Complex.   “There’s three generations of people, in some cases, who have worked on the orbiter project,” Macy said. “It’s going to be kind of emotional for a lot of folks.”   Atlantis will move through the roads of KSC aboard a special Orbiter Transportation System vehicle, which Macy refers to as the world’s slowest Ferrari. The expected top speed during this trip: 2 mph.   There will be a three-hour opportunity for spectators with special tickets to walk around the shuttle while it is parked at Space Florida’s Exploration Park, followed by the final move of the orbiter along State Road 405/NASA Parkway before making a right turn into the Visitor Complex. Only ticketed spectators will have access.   More than 8,000 people are expected at the public events, and thousands of current and former space workers have been invited to see part of the move in secure areas of KSC.   More than 350 people are involved in making it all happen.   The day will culminate at dusk with a 10-minute fireworks show with Atlantis at the door of its new home, which is still under construction. Then, Atlantis will be moved inside.   Putting Atlantis inside the building “is going to be a huge emotional moment,” said Macy, who worked on the 1996 and 2000 Summer Olympics, and compares the Atlantis trip to a leg of an Olympic torch run for the patriotic sentimentality.   In the coming weeks, Atlantis will be hoisted into place in preparation for its permanent display. It will be elevated and tilted so it appears to be in orbit around the Earth and near the International Space Station, with wheels up and payload bay doors open. That maneuver is scheduled to begin Nov. 11.   Macy said that configuration is one that previously had been seen “by very few people” — referring to the shuttle astronauts.   As it is lifted into place, Atlantis also will be covered with a special shrink-wrapping to protect it, while the rest of the Atlantis building and interactive exhibits are built around it.   “It’s like a big dust jacket on it,” Macy said.   Macy said the Atlantis exhibit, scheduled to open in July, will have “something for everyone, from the casual observer to the real space geek.”   Then, Atlantis will be taking on a new mission, said Visitor Complex spokeswoman Andrea Farmer. She said students might be motivated to excel in what’s known as the STEM disciplines — science, technology, engineering and math — and become the astronauts and scientists of the future.   “It will help inspire for generations to come,” Farmer said.   Stephanie Stilson: 'We knew it would come eventually'   Florida Today   Stephanie Stilson’s latest project is about to come to a climactic finish, one complete with pomp, circumstance and spectacular fireworks.   “We’re finally here,” Stilson said Oct. 17 as Atlantis rolled out of its hangar at Kennedy Space Center’s Launch Complex 39, heading temporarily to the 52-story Vehicle Assembly Building.   The short move was a somber first leg of a final journey that will culminate today with the orbiter’s delivery to the KSC Visitor Complex.   “I think, when we started working (shuttle fleet) retirement, nobody could actually visualize this moment,” said Stilson, the NASA manager in charge of prepping the winged spaceships for museum display, and ensuring safe delivery to their retirement roosts.   “We knew it would come eventually.”   Atlantis is the final orbiter to depart.   For Stilson, 42, of Canaveral Groves, today’s cross-center move largely will bring an end to an 18-month shuttle “transition and retirement” effort.   “I think it will be mixed emotions,” said Stilson, who previously had served as the “Flow Director” — the NASA ground processing manager — for Discovery, for 11 years and 11 flights.   On the one hand, ceremonies today will celebrate Atlantis and its significant role in space exploration.   On the other hand, “it will be difficult for us to know it’ll be the last time she’ll be in the LC-39 area,” Stilson said. “But at least we’re going to keep her close by.”   END