All language subtitles for terror.on.the.space.station.s01e02.1080p.hdtv.h264-cbfm_track4_[eng]

Earth.

Over 8 billion people live here,
but not all of them are home.

Since the turn of the century,
a few have been living here.

In the most hazardous scientific
outpost ever built.

The International Space Station.

Altogether, over 280 people have
ridden a controlled

explosion 250 miles into space,

risking their lives to maintain
a continuous

human presence off planet.

One day, we may be getting ready
for a spacewalk,

and the next day we were doing
some world class science.

Its unique environment provides
a research laboratory like no other.

But conducting science
in space brings its own challenges.

Very quickly, you can have an out
of control situation

from a very innocuous start.

As astronauts push the boundaries

of science and exploration,
they face daily threats.

You are constantly at risk of dying
for a multitude of reasons.

You've got orbital debris that can
hit your module and put a hole in it.

In the military, we say
that problems happen at the fold of

a map and at night.

And that's exactly how this
was shaping up.

How do we respond to that unknown?

Understanding situations may
have the ultimate consequences.

This is the story of innovation

and scientific exploration aboard
the ISS.

June 2024.

The world is gripped by a drama
playing out far above Earth.

NASA astronauts
Butch Wilmore and Suni Williams

had been scheduled
to spend just eight days aboard

the International Space Station
while testing

a new commercial spacecraft,
the Boeing Starliner.

Into the spacecraft.

Instead, when the vehicle
encounters technical issues,

their mission stretches into months.

Despite the difficulties, the pair
pivots

to become routine crew members,

drawing from their years of training

and a deep love of the job
to embrace their extended mission.

Because this job is like no other.

We're still pioneers in space,

so there's still a lot
that we have to learn.

Space is incredibly risky.

The safest thing to do
is to not go anywhere.

But that's not going
to really teach you much

about your species
or the planet you live on.

You have to take risks
to get reward.

Butch and Suni's extended stay
is just the latest in a long

line of unexpected challenges faced
in orbit.

Since the space
station's first module

was launched in 1998,

there have been countless moments
of risk and uncertainty.

Requiring calm
and quick thinking to resolve.

All to create a unique
research laboratory,

a platform for international science
and discovery through cooperation.

Uniting humanity in the pursuit
of knowledge beyond our planet.

From monitoring hurricanes on Earth
to cultivating plants in space.

From detecting X-rays released
by neutron stars

to developing cancer therapeutics.

We have taken technologies, people,
systems from all over the world,

and we've put it together
into this amazing laboratory.

The research that we've been able
to do has directly benefited

life on planet Earth,
and we're only just getting started.

Every minute of an astronaut's day on
the station is carefully planned,

and life on board might even come
to feel routine.

But it's always just
a matter of time

before the universe finds a way

to remind the crew
of just how vulnerable they are.

In 2013,
plans are underway to further extend

the International Space
Station's scientific footprint.

A new module called Nauka,
Russian for science,

is to be added to the station
the following year.

Created to conduct materials science
and biotechnology research,

Nauka includes a base for
the European robotic arm,

and will also feature a specially
designed airlock

to carry out experiments
in the vacuum of space.

But to unlock this groundbreaking
science,

astronauts must brave the most
unforgiving extremes.

In my personal operational
experience in the military,

in the Seal teams,
the bad guys were the enemy

that's shooting at you.

In a space mission,
the bad guy is the environment.

The environment is trying
to kill you.

Space is not really made for life.

It's very cold
and very hot at the same time.

It doesn't have an atmosphere.

It really doesn't want
to keep you alive.

A spacewalk, also known

as an extravehicular activity
or EVA, is especially dangerous.

Astronauts usually go through
the airlock in pairs

so that once outside, they can assist
each other if needed.

But still, they are isolated
and vulnerable

to hazards like radiation,

micrometeoroid impacts,
and equipment malfunctions.

On July 16th, 2013,

American astronaut Chris Cassidy
and flight engineer

Luca Parmitano
donned their spacesuits.

Spacewalks are not something
that you just willy nilly do.

Hey, it's Tuesday. You want to go out
and knock out a spacewalk?

No, it doesn't work like that.

It takes about four hours
to go through

the oxygen pre-breathe process
and all of the checks.

Leading up to opening the hatch.

All spacewalkers are tethered to
the space station with a retractable

metal cable that pays out to 85ft.

And just like if you walk a pair
of dogs on dog leashes,

those leashes get all tangled up.

On my waist.

Safety tethers are no different.

So oftentimes we intentionally
take separate routes

so the safety tethers don't tangle
up on themselves.

Luca and Chris
come together on top of

the tranquillity
module to carry out their task.

Connecting data and Ethernet cables
for when the new module arrives.

38 minutes into the EVA,

a warning alarm is triggered
in Luca Parmitano's spacesuit.

The carbon dioxide levels
are too high.

Ordinarily, exhaled carbon dioxide
would be controlled

and removed by the portable
life support system

in Luca's backpack.

The alarm could signal a dangerous
build-up of the gas inside

his spacesuit, which could lead to
severe headaches,

impaired judgement, and even death.

We have a checklist telling us to
check different parts of the suit,

to understand
whether it is an actual alarm,

or whether the sensor itself is
at fault.

It said, did the reading go
from normal to ludicrous instantly?

If that happened, then it's probably
the sensor's bad.

Doubtful of the carbon dioxide
reading

and satisfied
that Luca has no symptoms,

mission control concludes

that the sensor is faulty
and the EVA can continue as planned.

But six minutes later,
Luca calls mission control again.

There's another issue.

There should never be
any water inside your spacesuit,

especially not in the helmet area.

And so I communicated
that to the ground and I said,

I don't think it's a big deal.

I just wanted to keep going with
the EVA.

On Earth, water falls
under the force of gravity.

In space,
it's much less predictable.

It's surface tension
that drives the behaviour of water.

That surface tension is a pretty
strong force.

And the water just wants to stick
to whatever it's stuck to.

In Luca's case, the unexplained

ball of water is sticking to
the back of his head

and threatening
to creep around toward his face.

My biggest concern was the water
getting inside my ears,

because if it did,
it's really hard to get it out.

You cannot tap your head.
There's nothing you can do.

I finished what I was doing
and got over close to him,

and I remember I could see it
looked like half of a grapefruit

just kind of jiggling on his head.

And then little bitty pieces of water
droplets moving around inside.

At the European Space Agency,

astronaut instructor Herve Stevenin
watches a live feed of the mission.

But the situation doesn't improve.

More water collects
in Luca's helmet.

The LCVG, or liquid cooling
and ventilation garment

circulates cold water
in the spacesuit

via a system of tubes

to prevent astronauts
from overheating.

As Chris and Luca correctly suspect,

Luca's LCVG has malfunctioned and
is leaking water into his helmet.

The very suit designed
to protect him from the dangers

of space may now be putting him
in mortal danger.

That's the moment, I think, where it
solidified in everybody's mind.

Okay, we're done for today.

Mission control terminates
the spacewalk.

Luca needs to get back inside

the space station
and remove his helmet.

He begins retracing his route back to
the airlock

while Chris clears away their tools.

I remember leaving Chris

and as I made the corner
and disappeared from sight,

I remember thinking
that I really wished

that Chris could come with me
because that's how we train.

We train to be together.

That's why we go outside as a team
so that we have each other's back.

Before I saw Luca disappearing behind
the Z1 truss...

..and I wanted to say outloud, Luca,
stop!

Hold on, I'm coming with you.

It just felt like that's
what we should do.

But as tempting as it is to hurry,
Chris follows orders

and forces himself
to move deliberately.

In the military, we say
that problems happen at the fold of

a map at the junction
of grid squares and at night.

And that's exactly how this
was shaping up.

As soon as he started to move,
the sun set.

And everything turns gold.
Bright gold for one split second.

Incredibly beautiful.
And then it's lights out.

The ISS takes around 90 minutes
to orbit the Earth.

For half this time, the space station
is in total darkness.

Now, once Luca started to move.

Well, what happened to his motion?

It gets transferred into the water
too.

So that stationary, jiggly ball of
jello

starts flushing around his head.

I felt it coming closer and closer to
my forehead and I thought,

okay, this might cover both
of my ears at the same time.

Maybe more than a simple hindrance.

It may be an actual problem.

When I just completed a manoeuvre
where I put myself upside down.

So all my terms of reference
had completely switched 180 degrees.

That's when the water
really completely covered my nose.

And I found myself isolated,
unable to see anything,

unable to breathe through my nose.

I didn't really know how much time
I had

before the water reached my mouth.

If too much water covers
both Luca's nose and mouth,

he'll be unable to breathe
or drink his way out of trouble.

And to make matters worse,

water enters Luca's comms,
causing it to malfunction.

My memories are of just trying
to feel around making sure

that I would grab the correct handles
in a pressurised glove,

which gives you no feedback,
no tactile feedback.

And I called Chris, telling him,
Hey Chris,

I think I'm a bit lost,
but nothing came out

and I didn't have any return
in my earphones,

so I knew that he couldn't hear me.

And at the time my thoughts were,
okay,

um, I don't think Chris is going
to come and get me right away.

How much time do I have?
That was my thought in my head.

How much time do I have

before this helmet fills
up with water?

There was a risk that if the water
increased dramatically,

I would drown in space.

For the next five minutes,

Luca will be completely silent
and alone.

He had the amazing
presence about himself

when everything kind of went dark
and silent to just stop.

At that point,

Luca remembers he is tethered to
the space station's airlock.

That tether has a little 3 or 5Ib
pull to it,

and he waited
to feel the direction of that pull.

And then he just put his hand over
and grabbed the next piece of metal

that he could find,
and inched his way back that way.

Unbelievable awareness by Luca.

The gentle tug of the waist tether
leads Luca back to the airlock.

But he's not safe yet.

Before he can take his helmet off,

the airlock must be sealed
and repressurized.

With no time to waste, the ISS crew
runs through their checklist.

Five minutes later, Chris joins Luca,
squeezing in feet first.

The only thing that mattered at
that point

was the hatch being closed,

because if we couldn't close
the hatch,

we couldn't get good air pressure.

If we couldn't get air pressure,
we couldn't get Luca's helmet off.

And if we can't get Luca's helmet
off,

pretty soon, he's not going to
have air in his helmet to breathe.

With Luca's comms malfunctioning
and water now obscuring his vision,

Chris must ready the airlock

before crewmate
Karen Nyberg can repressurize it.

As they speed through the normally
15-minute long airlock procedure,

ground control attempts to check
in with Luca.

But there's still no response.

The pair are positioned
head to foot,

making it difficult
for Chris to see into Luca's helmet.

Right about then,
I grabbed his hand.

And we had never pre-briefed this.
Never talked about it.

But I squeezed his hand.

Sorry to my wife, but there
had been never

a more comforting squeeze back of
a hand.

That sensation of feeling his hand
squeeze back

in a nice, controlled way was like,
okay, we're going to be all right.

As my crewmates from the inside
were opening the hatch,

I looked up and I could see Karen,

Karen Nyberg's face, and Fyodor.

The whole crew had come into
the airlock to help me

and their faces.

They were so worried.

The sense of friendship,
camaraderie.

It's a form of love
that we should explore more, I think.

I could feel it. I could sense it.
I could see it on their faces.

And I was moved.

I was obviously relieved.

I knew that the ordeal was just
about to end

when they took the helmet off.

I was all smiles,
and I started cracking jokes.

They were certainly happy to see me,

and I was certainly happy
to see them.

A thorough investigation reveals

that a clogged filter led to
the leak in Luca's suit.

To ensure that astronauts can keep
breathing

if such a thing happens again,

NASA has an absorbent pad and even

a makeshift snorkel installed into
each helmet.

The way water behaves in space
is just one aspect of microgravity,

which is one millionth
the gravitational pull

experienced on Earth.

And it's what helps keep
the space station in orbit.

It's a challenge to live and work
in microgravity,

but it also allows
for groundbreaking studies

to be carried out on the ISS.

Biomedical experiments in space
reveal that in microgravity,

protein crystals form more uniformly
with fewer defects.

They tend to be higher quality.
They tend to be purer and larger.

And so this is really been a great
application

for the pharmaceutical industry.

A team of Japanese researchers
has taken advantage of

the ISS's Kibo laboratory to
investigate

proteins associated
with Duchenne muscular dystrophy.

A severe genetic disorder
causing progressive muscle weakness.

That series of experiments
were really successful

in finding some of the crystals
associated with those proteins

that they weren't able to do on
the ground

and develop drugs to target those.

Other experiments focus on
the astronauts themselves

and the impact the microgravity
environment has on their bodies.

A vital area of research

if humanity is to venture farther
out into space.

And we give periodic samples of blood
and urine and saliva,

and in some cases, number two,

to test all of the different outcomes
on the body.

We are both the conductors
and the test subjects.

We don't like the term guinea pigs
because we're not.

But we are subjects of the same,
of the same kind of experiments.

In the end, we are interested
in what can we glean

from performing science on
the human body

in space
that we cannot on the ground?

Every part of the space
station is crucial

to conduct this science and maintain
the lives of its inhabitants.

All the things we might take
for granted here on Earth -

air, water, food - have to be
designed,

calculated and engineered
to work properly in microgravity.

Even using the toilet.

Close the lid.

You got to be able to use all of
your facilities,

whether it's the bathroom

or the air conditioning
or the water processor.

All of those systems are there
for a reason because you need them.

Let's take a peek at the process.

With so little gravity, space
toilets use airflow to pull urine

and faeces away from the body
and into the proper receptacles.

And this valve is what activates
the whole system.

Going number one, you feel pretty
confident with that.

You're effectively just turning on
a fan, opening a valve and peeing.

In good Nasa fashion,
we have a checklist.

This is called procedure 2.301.

And in case things go wrong...

Going number two is a little bit
more...

You really reread every little line.

There is a plastic liner in there
where your deposit goes.

If you make the mess, you got
to clean up the mess.

So you don't want to be that one.

You take this red tab,

you pull it off the rim
and we do have a stick

and you push it down in there.

And then it's time to put a new
bag on.

Ready to go.

But the toilets are vital to
the International Space Station

in more ways than one.

Water is life.
Water is life on Earth.

Water is life on
the International Space Station.

Every drop of water,
whether it's your urination,

whether it's your sweaty t-shirt
from exercise,

the moisture in our breath
as we exhale,

all of
that moisture gets captured by

the environmental control system

and put back into
the water processor.

This fundamental part of the space
station's environmental control

and life support system allows
the ISS to recycle 98%

of the water that a crew brings along
at the start of a mission.

Every now and then
as you're filling your coffee bag,

you think, wait a minute,
this was yesterday's coffee.

And it's also today's coffee.

But the system works really well
and you get alarms long before

it is anything but pure water.

While the systems on board
are designed

to keep the crew alive,
it is the responsibility of

the crew to maintain
the space station itself,

a fundamentally
symbiotic relationship.

Neither could survive for long
periods in space without the other.

The ISS is the largest human-made
structure in orbit ever built,

with a surface
area of well over 100,000 sq ft,

exposed to
the hostile environment of space.

One of the dangers
in space that's outside

the vehicle are
what we call micrometeoroids.

So those can come from a number
of sources.

Bits of cosmic dust travelling at
a tremendously high speed can hit

the shell
of your module and put a hole in it.

Impact tests conducted on the ground
reveal the destructive

force of high-velocity particles,
some no larger than a grain of sand.

Incoming particles can reach speeds
of up to 162,000mph,

up to 50 times faster than
a speeding bullet.

The ISS
has survived several direct hits

to its solar panels
and to the Canadarm2.

The smaller pieces cause problems
because they're going very fast.

So you multiply a very small number,

which is a mass times a very big
number, which is the velocity.

That's where you get the problem.

The result is that even the tiniest
particles can pack a huge punch.

To defend the space station,

more than 100 shields protect
the critical components.

A common kind is a stuffed
Whipple shield.

A multi-layered system of metal
and synthetic materials

which can break up smaller
meteoroids, dispersing their energy.

Russian modules tend to have thicker
ribs and thinner skin,

so from a probabilistic perspective,

the Russian
modules are much more susceptible

to small micrometeoroid
penetrations.

On the flip side,
the US modules have very,

very thick skin,
so smaller micrometeoroids

are not likely
to penetrate the US module.

But micrometeoroids aren't the only
threat.

Increasingly, it's orbital debris

that comes from something
human made.

So a screw, a paint fleck,
a rocket body.

I mean, it could be anything, right?

There are so many more objects
in space.

There may be bits of derelict
satellites that approach your orbit.

With low Earth orbit
becoming more crowded by the day,

the probability of catastrophic
collision increases.

The good thing about low Earth orbit
is we've seen this huge boom

of private companies
and commercialisation,

and it's everywhere.

The bad thing is there's lots
of old pieces of stuff out there,

whether it's spent launch vehicles,
whether it's dead satellites.

Protecting the ISS now poses a unique
challenge.

Today, more than 15,000 pieces
of space debris

are tracked in low Earth orbit
where the ISS resides.

Including fragments of used rockets
and decommissioned satellites that,

with no way
to regulate their temperature,

repeatedly expand and contract

until they break up or sometimes even
explode.

And these are just the objects
we are able to track,

those larger than four inches.

Add in smaller fragments,

and the total number of debris
particles is estimated to be

in the millions.

Each fragment can go on
to hit more objects,

creating exponentially
more fragments and more collisions.

A potential nightmare
for Mission Control.

The bigger pieces we
track pretty well

and we do
debris avoidance manoeuvres

sometimes because we know that
there's a potential collision.

In 2021, Russia launched
an anti-satellite missile,

deliberately destroying one of
its own defunct satellites.

The impact created a massive
cloud of high velocity debris

hurtling through low Earth orbit.

Although the initial pass missed
the station,

the danger was far from over.

Subsequent orbits of the wreckage
required mission control

to carry out avoidance manoeuvres
to keep the ISS out of harm's way.

But rogue impactors aren't always
the problem.

Every manoeuvre, every docking
is painstakingly planned

and monitored by the folks at
Mission Control.

And during these tightly
coordinated movements

of the space station, controllers
must be ready for the unexpected.

After years of delays, the uncrewed
Multi-Purpose Laboratory Module,

or MLM Nauka, docks with
the International Space Station.

It marks the first major
expansion to

the Russian segment
in over ten years.

Once docking to the Zvezda
service module is complete,

at Mission Control in Houston,

Zebulon Scoville
takes over flight director duties.

I did a quick handover
and plugged in,

thinking that we were just going
to be doing some minor

reconfigurations and stabilisations
of opening hatches,

equalising the atmospheres
and so forth.

It didn't quite go that way.

About 1.5 minutes after plugging
in my headset,

a small yellow stripe lit up across
the caution warning board

in the front of Mission Control.

My altitude control officer notifies
me that we have

a loss of altitude control or low
altitude.

For reasons unknown, the ISS
has begun to spin out of control.

We saw on the front screens
the video cameras coming from ISS,

almost a snowstorm of particles
around the outside of the ISS,

and it wasn't entirely clear
what the source of this was.

This could be a coolant fluid
that had vented.

It could be a fuel or propellant
that was leaking overboard,

or it could be thrusters firing.

The fact of the matter is we didn't
know.

And so this is where we had to very
quickly try to understand

what is this venting overboard?

What is it doing to ISS?

How will we first make sure this crew
is going to be safe?

And second, get the vehicle under
control.

French astronaut Thomas Pesquet

and his six crewmates
are on board at the time.

If a space station spins too fast,

this could introduce
several potential hazards.

If it were to flip upside down,
now our antennas,

which are normally pointing towards
our communication satellites,

are no longer pointing up,

so we risk losing communication with
the space station.

We have docking mechanisms with
the crew vehicles

that are used as lifeboats.

If we spin too fast, if we had to
undock in an emergency,

those hooks might jam.

The advantage of building a station
in the vacuum of space is

that you don't have to fight things
like wind and gravity,

so the structure can be less sturdy.

The problem is,

any unexpected twisting
could break it into pieces.

Ground control desperately needs
to understand

what is causing the ISS to turn.

So one of my first questions
was to my life support officer.

Are you maintaining cabin atmosphere?

Cabin atmosphere stable, flight.

Okay, what about cooling systems?

Thermal systems are stable, flight.
We're looking good.

The team ticks off a checklist
of possible causes.

Until a plausible suspect emerges.

One of the main
and most likely candidates was

that the Nauka module was
firing thrusters.

A software error on the Nauka means
that it doesn't recognise

it has successfully connected to
the ISS.

Nauka's thrusters start firing,

trying to pull away from the space
station

it is now securely docked to.

Four huge gyroscopes on board
the ISS keep the station in position.

As the Russian thrusters fight with
the space station's gyros,

there's concern that the joints of
the ageing ship

can't take the strain.

So the decision is made to shut
the gyros down,

reducing the stress on
the attachment points

that connect
the station's modules together.

The ISS is now in free drift.

And there's an added complication.

Unfortunately, the Nauka module can
only communicate with the ground

if the station was physically over
the Russian ground sites.

As it was, we were just heading off
of the eastern coast of Russia

over the Pacific.

And so we had no insight,
no telemetry,

no data, and no ability
to command it or turn it off.

We weren't going to get that back
for about 90 minutes.

In Houston, flight controllers listen
to real time translations of

the communications
between Moscow's mission control

and the cosmonauts on board
the station.

We've got 1.5 hours
to ride this thing out

before we're going to be able
to completely stabilise the system.

At this point, in order to assure we
had every advantage we could,

I declared a spacecraft emergency.

A spacecraft emergency ensures

that all attention is focussed on
the operation at hand.

All available ground antennas across
the US

now attempt to make contact with the
ISS.

But still, the connection between
the ground and space is patchy

and unpredictable.

And with the whole ISS structure now
turning away

from its communications satellites,

US operations are
about to lose contact with the crew.

We were tracking the space
station spin,

and we could predict we had
minutes to communicate several steps

of procedure to the crew before we
were going to run out of time.

The crew are instructed to lock
the station's radiators,

which are at risk of shearing off,

while the solar panels are
repositioned.

Meanwhile, at Mission Control...

..the team formulates a plan

to fight back against
Nauka's thrusters.

We want you to run the procedure.

We knew as the Nauka module's
thrusters were firing,

that we had to bring a bigger
lever arm,

a more powerful force
to bear against these thrusters.

For that extra muscle,

ground control turns to the Zvezda
service module,

primary source
for the ISS's propulsion systems.

At this time, a cargo ship,
Progress 78,

is also docked to the station

on the opposite side to the misfiring
Nauka.

Crucially, both Progress 78
and the Zvezda have thrusters.

Now, typically there will be days
of analysis.

In this specific case, this was
unexpected, and so there was a little

bit of engineering judgement
that had to be applied.

Recognising that the alternative

and indecision would
have been worse.

Mission control makes the decision

to fire up the Zvezda and Progress 78
thrusters to set up an orbital

wrestling match
with the Nauka that they have to win.

For nearly 45 minutes,
the ISS drifts out of control.

A combined effort of the Zvezda and
Progress 78 modules

pushes back against Nauka.

It's putting huge strain on
the space station structure.

This is like riding
a bucking bronco,

and we've got to make it the full
eight seconds.

Except this time it was
an orbit around the entire Earth.

It will be another 45 minutes
before Russian controllers

can regain command
of Nauka's thrusters.

But then all of a sudden...

Nauka's thrusters fall silent.

Its fuel tanks have run dry.

The tug of war is over.

As we brought the space station back
to normal altitude,

I think we all took a deep
sigh of relief.

After rotating one and a half times
around 540 degrees,

mission controllers
can finally bring

the station to a halt

and begin a controlled return to its
correct attitude.

The team that I had working
in the control centre that day

was an example of performance that to
this day I will always remember.

Not because we did everything
perfect,

but because of how we came together.

Since its launch in 1998,

the ISS has been humanity's
laboratory in the sky.

Over the past 25 years,

we have served over 5000 researchers
on the International Space Station.

Conducted over 4000 different
experiments.

And published right around 4000
papers.

The fact that we've learned so much,
not just about technology,

but about ourselves
as a result of the ISS.

That's a legacy that's not to be
denied or discounted in any way.

For many, the value of the ISS goes
far beyond the physical.

It's about perspective,

hope, and the shared pursuit
of something greater.

The space station is not just
a place where we produce science,

but it's a place of emotions.

It is a place of humanity.

A place where we brought
with us our own dreams.

A quarter century
of peaceful cooperation,

multiple countries,
multiple organisations,

all working with the focus of trying
to make humanity better.

To me, that seems like a pretty
powerful and lasting legacy.

But with ageing technology
and the advent of new,

more efficient space platforms,
the station's days are numbered.

The ISS was never meant to be
a permanent structure in space.

The International Space Station is
scheduled to begin

its final chapter in 2030.

About a year and a half
before the space station de-orbits,

we will launch a crew
that will stay there for a year.

They will be in charge of getting
the last bits of science

and engineering
we can out of this facility.

About six months prior to
the deorbit process,

that crew will come home,

leaving the space station uncrewed
as its altitude starts to lower.

A deorbit vehicle will attach to
the ISS

and gently guide the station into
a slow, deliberate descent,

where it will enter the thick layers
of Earth's atmosphere

at speeds over 17,000mph.

Experiencing temperatures close
to 3000 degrees Fahrenheit.

We know some of it will burn up,

but large pieces of it will survive
through the atmospheric re-entry.

That's why we want to make sure
that it's a controlled process.

So we safely hit the Pacific Ocean.

The ISS's fiery disintegration will
be the final act

in its incredible journey.

But the lessons we learned
from its time in space,

the technologies developed
and the unity it represents

will echo in future space exploration
for generations to come.

The ISS is not just a international
laboratory that's orbiting in space.

It's much, much more than that.

No matter where we come from,

no matter the differences
in political systems

and the leaders that we have,
we really can work together.

We have that ability.

It's just really fun to think about
the future of space exploration,

and to know that I was,
in a small way,

part of the International
Space Station story.

The International Space Station is
the crowning

achievement of human ingenuity
so far.