Paul Gillebaard

USSR HOAX

PREQUEL TO MOON HOAX

TO THE THOUSANDS OF MEN AND WOMEN WHO HELPED PUT A MAN ON THE MOON, PROVING THE IMPOSSIBLE IS POSSIBLE!

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

A big thanks to Jim Banke, whose early ideas and later critique greatly influenced the storyline. To John Vester for investing many long hours editing the book—twice. Thanks to my editor, Kelly Lynne. To Cindy Cowlin for proofreading. Thanks to the former astronauts for their advice and input. Finally, to my wife Anne, for all her support.

1

SECRET PAST

Peter Novak sat in his beach chair, mesmerized by the sight of his alluring wife walking toward him in a white bikini. To him, she was simply physical perfection. Anya was dripping wet after a brief swim in the ocean. Her leg muscles flexed as she powered through the loose sand. He couldn’t be more proud as he did a quick scan of the shoreline to see if anyone else was checking out his beauty. He smiled at a chubby old man a few towels over trying to steal a discreet glance over his sunglasses.

After giving birth to their son less than a year ago, Anya had worked hard to get her body back. She often worked out early in the morning before Peter left for work. As if on cue, little Viktor would wake up crying as soon as she stepped out, needing a diaper change and a bottle. Peter never minded tending to his son. He enjoyed being a father.

The December afternoon in Cocoa Beach was a comfortable 75 degrees. The Novak family was on a mini vacation taking advantage of a luxurious beach house offered by the SpaceQuest CEO. The gesture was a generous way of saying thanks to Peter for successfully flying SpaceQuest’s rockets on two critical top-secret missions for the U.S. government. Those flights proved to NASA what SpaceQuest’s equipment could do, propelling the company as the bona fide leader of the lucrative commercial space business. Those missions also opened the door for Peter to step up from the ranks of agent to Director of the Space Intelligence Division (SID), in the CIA. One of the perks of the desk job was being able to schedule time off.

Anya approached, twirling her jet black locks tightly with both hands, trying to wring out the water. She had an innocent smile when she discreetly pointed to a towel lying on top of the cooler next to Peter. He tossed it up and leaned back to watch her dry off. Suddenly a splatter of sand pelting the side of his body interrupted his serene moment. He jerked over to see his son playing aimlessly with a red toy shovel, swinging it wildly through the sand.

Grabbing the plaything from his nine-month-old son, Peter spoke with frustration in his voice. “Viktor, you don’t want to be swinging this thing around.” Peter then patiently showed his son how to use the shovel, digging it in the sand before dumping some into the boy’s toy bucket. Peter gently placed the shovel back into the little boy’s tiny hand. “Now you try.”

Viktor went back to swinging it around uncontrollably, but fortunately this time he was whiffing it through the air. Peter smiled as he turned to Anya. “I guess that didn’t help.”

Wiping off her legs, Anya looked up. “Be patient, he’ll figure it out. He has a little of dad in him.”

Peter assumed she meant that little Viktor could be stubborn. The boy was named after Anya’s father, with whom Peter flew on the covert operation to the moon, proving that Americans did walk on its surface. The brave cosmonaut ultimately died on the mission, sacrificing his life to repay a long-overdue debt to Peter’s father, Tom Novak, who saved the cosmonaut’s career. Peter had a ton of respect and love for the elder Viktor, especially after he performed a dangerous spacewalk to save the mission. Though the man was a jokester, he was someone Peter could always count on to get the job done. Because of Viktor’s ingenuity and strength, the operation was a success. Peter would be honored if his son had many of his grandfather’s traits. “I hope he is like your father.”

“I bet he’ll have a little of both of our fathers in him.”

Peter brushed off the annoying sand as Anya took a seat in her beach chair on the other side of Viktor. A déjà vu moment struck Peter, seeing his wife helping their son work with the shovel. “I sure hope this isn’t a dream.”

A surprised look shot across Anya’s face. “Why would you say that?”

“When I was returning from the moon, I had a dream just like this. I was on a similar beach with you and our child. It seemed so real at the time. I was heartbroken when I woke and realized I was still stuck on the Chinese spacecraft, destined to be put in one of their prisons when we returned to Earth.”

Anya reached over and grabbed his hand. “This is no dream.” As she patted him she flashed an appreciative wink and spoke in a silky calm whisper. “But if it is, thanks for including me.”

The chime of Peter’s cell phone broke their attention. Thinking the call could be his mother, he turned his attention to the beach bag where the sound was coming from, expecting the caller ID to show Mom. Peter had invited his mom to join them on the vacation. He thought it would be a nice getaway for her, and suggested she fly back home with them afterward for the holidays. Since his new position was based out of the CIA headquarters in Virginia, his family now lived halfway across the country from his mother’s home in Texas, making it tough for her to see her only grandchild.

Anne Novak had happily accepted the offer but had one request. She preferred not to trudge around in the sand. While Peter and his family were on the beach, Anne would stay back in the quaint beach house, enjoying a nice book.

Peter started digging through the bag.

Anya chimed in. “If it’s work, don’t pick it up.”

As the SID director, he had no choice but to answer it. “It’s probably Mom.”

Peter had to rummage through all the kid stuff until he found what he was looking for. He quickly pulled out the thin metal smartphone and saw that the call was from Gavin Ross, his boss and now Director of the CIA. Afraid the call would be sent to voicemail, he quickly pushed the accept button without informing Anya who it was. “Hey, Gavin.”

Gavin’s voice was loud and clear. “Hello, Peter. So how’s the vacation going?”

Peter looked at Anya, who had raised her eyebrow. “Fabulous. We’re sitting on the beach enjoying another perfect Florida day.”

“I’m jealous. It’s cold and wet here.”

Peter leaned back and crossed his outstretched legs at the ankles in the sand. “Well, that makes this even nicer. So why the call?”

“Are you aware of the private organization trying to bring up one of the Saturn F-1 engines from the bottom of the Atlantic?”

Peter had heard news reports of some rich tycoon organizing an expedition to locate the massive Saturn V first stage boosters that helped send men to the moon. The awesome power propelling those boosters was five enormous F-1 engines on the bottom of the stage. Within minutes of an Apollo flight liftoff, the massive first stage would have exhausted all of its fuel and would be cut loose to fall to a watery grave deep in the Atlantic Ocean. “Yeah, I’m aware of it. Why?”

“We just got a call from NASA. One of the engines was found and pulled up this morning. When it was being searched for identification markings, a part was found that had Cyrillic lettering. The leader of the expedition thought it could be Russian in nature. He sent a picture of it to NASA, and they forwarded a copy to us.”

Peter was impressed the search team was able to haul up one of those beasts. However, he seriously doubted a Russian part could be on that engine. The Soviets were America’s mortal enemies during the ’60s when the two countries were in a heated race to the moon. “Have you seen the picture?”

“Yes, and our team is analyzing it. But the lighting isn’t good. Besides, that engine has been submerged for over forty years and the part is showing its age with some corrosion. The CEO financing the expedition doesn’t want the engine disturbed in any way, but he was open to having a government representative stop by to inspect it.”

It was becoming clear why Gavin had called.

“Since you’re already out there, I wondered if you wouldn’t mind swinging by their ship to take a look.” His boss tried to put a positive spin on his request. “You never know. It could be one of the engines that sent your dad to the moon.”

Peter looked at Anya, who, he could see by the set of her mouth, was getting a sense of what was going on. “All right, send me the picture and where to go.”

“I’ll send the picture now and follow it up with the address and who to see.”

“Sounds good. I’ll call you once I’ve inspected it.” As he said goodbye, a displeased look darkened his wife’s face.

Anya’s voice was laced with a pouting tang. “This was supposed to be our time.”

Anya spoke and read Russian; maybe she could translate the markings. “Though it is work, it might be something you can help me with.”

Peter’s phone vibrated, signaling that he’d received an email. Seeing it was from Gavin, he swiftly brought it up. Attached was the picture. He opened the file and studied the image for a moment. Gavin was right. The markings stamped on the metal were tough to see on the aged part, but as he focused in, his heart skipped a beat. Could it be? The writing looks the same. He slowly rotated the picture around, and though the part was partially blocked by other components, his eyes still widened. Is this the same piece of hardware that was in those pictures I found in dad’s safe?

Earlier in the year, well after his father’s death, Peter had helped his mom go through the morbid chore of boxing up items in his dad’s office. When he was going through his dad’s safe, he came across a handful of ’60s vintage Polaroid photographs. Each photo was of the same shiny metal hardware. The only difference was that some had stamped cryptic lettering while the others had scratches ground over where the script probably once was. Wondering why these photos were in his dad’s safe, Peter had confronted his mother. Her alarmed expression at the sight of the photos made Peter even more curious. After some persistence, his mom eventually opened up. She stated that his dad had been involved in something top secret at NASA that worried him, and only a few people knew of it. Peter’s dad was convinced that if the information ever leaked out, it would ruin his career and possibly bring harm to innocent people.

Peter had a sneaking suspicion the part he was about to inspect was the same hardware. He handed the phone to Anya. “Are you familiar with this style of writing?”

She stared at the phone for a minute. “It looks like some type of old Russian character encoding similar to those used in our early computers. I’ve run across it at work.”

“Can you tell what it says?”

To get a better look, Anya put her hand over the phone in an effort to block out the sun. “Not really. This picture isn’t very clear.”

Peter definitely needed her help and did his best sales pitch. “Well you mentioned you wanted to check out a museum. How would you like to be one of the first to see a historical engine that is destined to be in a museum someday? It’s one of the rocket engines that took men to the moon.”

In a joking tone, Anya asked, “Russian men?”

A smile crossed Peter’s face. Anya knew the only cosmonaut to have flown to the moon was her father. “There’s only one Russian who’s been to the moon, and I took him.”

Peter went on to explain why they needed to inspect the F-1 engine and his suspicions. When she learned of the details and why she was needed, she happily agreed. They quickly packed up their stuff. The plan was to stop off at the beach house to change and drop off Viktor before hustling over to the expedition ship.

CARRYING HIS SHOES, Peter sauntered across the living room floor in his socks. He had washed and dressed in a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved polo shirt, the appropriate clothing for venturing on a servicing vessel. His mom sat cross-legged on the floor, placing Cheerios on a small plastic tray attached to the blue activity play saucer Viktor sat in. Peter’s son ate some of the cereal rings while occasionally tossing a couple on the tile floor. Peter took a seat on the couch watching the annoyed look cross his mother’s face as she picked up the loose food. He wondered how she was going to handle the situation.

His mom spoke in a stern voice as she held a Cheerio by her mouth. “No, Viktor, don’t throw. You eat them, like this.” She put a few onto her tongue before chewing them.

Viktor started swinging his arms excitedly as she placed a few more on the saucer. The boy grabbed the Cheerios and brought them close to his mouth. He held them there for a moment and stared at his grandmother, as if challenging her. Peter knew what was coming next. In defiance, the child threw the cereal to the floor. Peter chuckled internally as his mom calmly picked up the mess and said, “Then, no more for you.” As she got up Viktor let out a loud wail.

Peter started putting on his shoes. “Was I stubborn like that as a nine-month-old?”

Anne took a seat on the couch next to Peter. She took off her glasses as she kept her gaze locked on her grandchild, who had already gone back to playing with one of the toys on the saucer, having forgotten about the cereal. “Though you could be just as ornery, sometimes you surprised me.” A soft smile grew as she seemed to be reflecting on a distant time. She slowly turned. “You were nine months when your dad flew his first space mission. Our house was filled with family and friends there to support me. But occasionally I had to get away and be alone. I often escaped to the privacy of my room, taking you with me. I would play with you on the bed while listening to the mission’s transmissions over the squawk box. You were so cute and well-behaved. I was lucky to have you there, especially when your dad was struggling during his spacewalk. To me, you seemed to understand what I was saying. You helped me get through it all.”

Of course Peter had no recollection of the moment or that period of his life. Most of what he knew of the troubled Gemini flight was told to him by his father. Peter patted his mom’s leg. “Well, I’m happy I was able to help.”

A vibration in his pocket signaled he had gotten a text. As he reached for the phone, his mother sat back down on the floor next to Viktor. A quick glance showed a text from one of his top agents, Jesse Johnston, the ex-NASA astronaut Peter recruited from EarthOrbit. He scrolled up the text. Did you hear Chris Riddick died?

A tinge of satisfaction shot through Peter reading the news. He despised Chris, and strongly believed the man had secretly supported the Chinese, backing their lies about the moon landings never happening, which Peter felt had led directly to his father’s death. There was no love lost between Peter and his old boss. Under his breath, Peter uttered, “Good.”

Hearing the remark, Anne tilted her head slightly. “What?”

Peter sent a reply, questioning how Chris had died. Peter looked to his mom. “Chris Riddick just passed away.”

Surprisingly, Anne had no reaction. She simply went back to tending to Viktor.

This was not the response Peter expected-not from someone who would shed a tear over a pet goldfish dying. He always suspected his mother also harbored ill feelings toward the ex-NASA man, but he never knew why.

Peter reflected on the night he snooped around Chris’s office and covertly learned of his computer password, Anne. By her reaction, his gut told him his suspicions about the password referring to his mother might be correct. “Mom, was there anything going on between you and Chris?”

Anne became defensive and shot him a harsh look. “What? Why would you ask that?”

“I found out Chris’s password for his computer was Anne. It always bugged me, wondering if it was somehow linked to you.”

Anne got up, went over to the couch, sitting next to Peter. “You remember that top secret thing I told you about, that your dad was working on at NASA?”

“Yeah.”

“Chris was never a part of it, but somehow he got wind of something related to it. According to your dad, the man had his facts wrong. Anyway, Chris tried to use that against your dad. He also tried to take advantage of me, using the information as a threat.” His mother lowered her eyes to the floor. “I was very confused at the time.”

Not wanting to know the specifics, Peter put his arm around his mother. “Mom, Chris was an asshole.” Cowboy boots hitting the tile floor interrupted Peter. He turned.

Anya entered, wearing black jeans and a tight blue shirt, her bright smile lighting up the room. “Are we ready?”

Peter straightened up. “Sure.”

Anya bent down and lifted her son out of the play saucer. She felt his diaper. “Oops, someone needs a diaper change.” She looked at Peter. “Let me do this real quick.”

“No problem.” As Anya left with their son, Peter turned back to his mom. He was curious if the parts he was about to inspect might also be tied into Chris. “Were the pictures I found in Dad’s safe at all related to this information Chris thought he knew?”

His mom let out a deep sigh. “I’m not sure. I never learned the full details. I got the impression your dad never opened up because he was trying to protect me. The information was that sensitive and top secret.”

“Anya and I are going to inspect an F-1 engine from a Saturn V rocket, brought up from the ocean floor earlier this morning. I was sent a picture of a part that looked very similar to the hardware found in the pictures Dad kept, even having comparable markings.”

Anne’s eyes widened. “Oh no.” She looked out the window for a moment before gradually turning her head back. “What little bit I do know is that critical pieces of evidence were supposedly buried deep in the ocean. Your dad slipped once, saying the Atlantic. He was assured the parts would never be found. I always suspected the ‘evidence’ was probably on his rocket, and the pictures in his safe were kept as proof to verify his side of the story, if needed.”

Peter leaned back on the couch as he rubbed his chin. Things were getting very interesting. He was definitely happy to be the first to see the engine with investigative carte blanche. Regardless of what he found, he was going to protect his dad’s legacy.

2

INSPECTION

An enormous cruise ship leaving Port Canaveral blew its mighty horn, causing Anya to jump back toward Peter as they walked along the soggy wooden deck of the Seven Seas. Peter smiled as he looked out toward the luxury liner. The huge ship seemed to be passing only yards away. He could clearly see the passengers’ excited faces up on the deck waving in another direction. When he turned to Anya, their eyes locked momentarily before she nodded toward the cruise liner, a slight reminder of her desire for a vacation at sea someday. He acknowledged her with a slight wink as the two continued to negotiate their way around the deck of the Seven Seas, inhaling the unavoidable fishy smell mixed in with the salty air.

The expedition vessel was littered with treasures from its recent recovery voyage, various corroded F-1 engine parts. Some of the pieces were still wet, a sign they were recently pulled from the ocean. Peter and Anya wore white visitor’s hardhats as they followed Ted Sanders, the financial backer behind this ambitious endeavor.

Ted expertly maneuvered around the obstacles wearing a blue company hardhat while holding a thin leather binder. The middle-aged CEO of Hextronics seemed to notice some of the looks Anya was getting from the ship’s crew. The men in grungy orange jumpsuits and hardhats looked dead tired, a few taking a break as the group passed. Ted glanced over his shoulder at Anya, speaking loud enough to be heard over the tools being operated around them. “Sorry about all the attention. These men have been at sea for over three weeks.”

Anya smiled. “No problem, I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“Please do.” Ted looked ahead as he extended his hand. “All these F-1 engine parts you see lying around were on the ocean floor only days ago, over three miles deep in the Atlantic. I made sure my team took painstaking effort to protect these historical artifacts as they were being lifted to the surface. I’m proud to say we have retrieved enough parts to assemble a complete engine.”

Peering intently at each artifact, Peter wondered if any one of the metal pieces he passed had been on his dad’s rocket. “Any idea which Saturn V rocket these parts were on?”

“That’s something we expect to know soon. Our hope is the biggest section you’re about to see, a thrust chamber with its intact fuel manifold, will be from Apollo 11. That would be our holy grail. A conservation team is arriving tomorrow to determine exactly what we have. We noticed the odd markings when we were searching for identification numbers.”

All three turned a corner, and there in front of them was the biggest section of an F-1 engine yet, looking over eight feet tall.

Beaming with pride, the CEO stepped to the side and made a sweeping gesture with his arm to reveal his masterpiece. “Here it is. Our big find.”

The engine was in good shape considering its age and where it had been for the last forty years. As expected, grime and corrosion coated it throughout, along with a handful of barnacles. Most of the metal tubing circling the engine was bent and twisted, and what was left of the thrust chamber was slightly mangled. But overall, the engine looked pretty damn good.

Ted proudly patted the artifact. “This will be in a museum someday.”

Reaching up, Peter touched the impressive piece of equipment. He thought of his dad as he rubbed the cold metal. He stepped back to gaze at the workhorse as he wiped his wet hand on his jeans. The F-1 was the most powerful engine ever built. He put his hands into his pockets before slowly strolling around the relic.

Ted asked, “By the way, are you the guy who flew to the moon a while back?”

Cocking his head slightly so he could see around the engine, Peter answered nonchalantly, “I am.”

“Wow, glad to meet you. That was some mission.”

Peter smiled. It had been sometime since someone had connected him to the flight. “Thanks.”

“So then you’re the son of Tom Novak, right?”

Completing his initial inspection, Peter ended up next to Ted. He looked at the CEO. “That would be true.”

Ted’s face became flushed. “Oh, sorry about saying Apollo 11 would be our holy grail. We would be just as pleased if this engine was from your dad’s Apollo 16 flight.”

Chuckling at the man’s sudden change in demeanor, Peter patted the CEO on the back. “No worries. Apollo 11 was the first mission to put a man on the moon. I agree, such a find would be extraordinary.”

“Just so you know, I consider any man who had the balls to be strapped into one of those beasts destined for the moon to be a hero in my book.” An excited look unexpectedly popped on the CEO’s face. He opened up his thin binder, revealing a notebook computer. “I’ve got to show you a cool picture.” Silver hair protruded out from under the hardhat as the CEO tilted his head down and moved his finger over the screen, quickly navigating through various files until he found what he was looking for. He tapped the screen before holding the computer pad in Peter’s direction, his expression similar to that of a proud father showing pictures of his newborn baby. “Look at this! Isn’t that cool? That could be your father’s.”

Peter moved his head slightly to take the sun’s glare off the screen. His eyes widened at the sight of a Saturn V first stage structure standing upright on the ocean floor. With the bright lights shining on the massive artifact, probably from a mini submarine, Peter could easily make out the black and white color scheme. Though there was some corrosion, the detail was amazingly clear. He could even spot the rocket’s rivets. “Wow! That is a cool shot.”

Turning the screen toward Anya so she could see, Ted spoke in an excited tone. “I know. I couldn’t believe it when I first saw the shot. The booster practically looks like it did when it was sitting on the launch pad. Too bad that puppy is too big to bring up.”

Anya didn’t look too impressed.

Peter nodded. It was time to get down to business. “So where are the markings you wanted me to look at?”

After closing the binder, Ted placed it on a blue steel drum next to a long metal flashlight. He grabbed the light and crouched down, shining it inside the engine. He searched for a moment before he found what he was looking for. “There it is. See?”

Kneeling on the wet wooden deck, Peter shifted his hardhat slightly upward. He squinted as he peered through twisted metal plumbing. He could barely make out what he was seeing. “Can I borrow the flashlight?”

“Sure.”

After some minor adjustments, Peter soon had the light aimed perfectly, allowing him to see the stamped markings more clearly. Unfortunately, mangled piping and components in front of the part prevented him from determining if the hardware was similar to what was in his dad’s pictures, though the markings looked comparable. Peter needed Anya’s input. As he started to stand a cell phone went off behind him. He turned to see Ted raising a hand to excuse himself before stepping away to take the call.

Peter turned to Anya. “The markings are definitely more visible. How about you take a look and see if you can decipher them.” They both knelt on the wet surface as he handed over a pen and small notepad she had requested he bring. He tried to aim the flashlight as best he could. “Can you see it?”

Anya shifted her head. “I think so. You need to drop the light down a bit.”

Peter made the small correction. “How’s that?”

“Good. Hold it there.” Anya started writing on the notepad. She darted back and forth from staring into the engine to writing. “Okay, got it.” She got up off her knees and studied what she had written. She started to make notes, as if trying to decode the markings.

“So what is it?”

Biting her lower lip, Anya stared curiously at the pad. “I’m not sure. They appear to be a bunch of random numbers and letters.” She turned to Peter. “I think it’s just an identification number.”

“Is it Russian?”

“Not necessarily, but probably.”

“Damn.” Peter turned the flashlight back toward the engine and crouched over as he slowly walked around searching for more clues. He felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked up and saw Ted towering over him.

“I need to step away for a moment.” The CEO tilted his head slightly. “Is everything okay?”

Peter straightened up. “Everything’s fine.”

“Any idea what those markings are?”

Peter shrugged. “Not sure.”

“Any chance it’s Russian?”

“Possibly.”

“So what else are you looking for?”

Peter carried on with his search. “I’m just checking to see if there are any other similar markings.”

“I doubt you’ll find any. We looked over this thing pretty well, but feel free to search.” Ted cupped his hands around his mouth and called out to a worker washing down a yellow bin. “Hey, Kevin, can you come over here for a minute?”

Ted turned back toward Peter. “Kevin will assist you with anything you need.”

When the employee wearing a Hextronics blue jumpsuit arrived, he said, in a firm tone, “Yes, sir?”

“Kevin, I’ve got to step away for a few moments. Please watch these folks and help them if they need anything.”

It sounded to Peter like Ted was asking the young man to keep an eye on them.

“Will do.”

Ted grabbed his leather binder then looked back at Peter. “Remember, this engine is a historical artifact. So please don’t disturb any of its parts.”

Peter winked. “Got it.”

After Ted took off, Peter resumed snooping around the machine. This time he inched along more slowly, shining the light through the many tiny openings and gaps looking for anything out of the ordinary. Anya seemed to read his mind as she engaged in small talk with the worker, taking his focus off Peter.

After circling the engine a few times Peter stopped on the opposite side from where Anya and Kevin stood. A chunk of the engine was missing. Hoping to get a better view of the part’s shape from behind, he shone the light into a small dark opening and squeezed his head in. After adjusting the light, he eventually located the back end of the part, which appeared similar to the hardware shown in his dad’s pictures. As he studied the piece, there appeared to be something strange on it he couldn’t quite make out.

Concealing what he was doing, Peter pulled out his pocket knife, not worried about the CEO’s request not to disturb history. Keeping the flashlight aimed just right, Peter reached in with his other hand and scraped off corrosion with the knife’s blade. With his trained eye, he thought he could be looking at fluorescent paint. He put the knife away and set the flashlight on the deck. He then pulled out his smart phone. The SID-issued equipment had some special features, including the capability of beaming a black light. He quickly clicked on the special light and aimed it at what he suspected was fluorescent paint. The stenciled lettering glowed, and he was shocked to see it was Russian writing. Anya needs to see this. He snapped a couple of quick pictures with the phone.

Not to give anything away, Peter placed his phone back in his pocket, picked up the flashlight and walked back around the engine. He purposely shook his head as he approached Anya and Kevin. “I couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary.” Peter needed to show the pictures to Anya privately, and he wanted to do it near the engine in case he needed to get more photos. Seeing his grimy hands sparked an idea. He extended his free hand. “Kevin, do you mind getting me something to wipe off my hands with?”

“Sure. I’ll be right back.”

As Kevin left, Peter set the flashlight back on the blue drum before leaning in toward Anya and whispering. “I think I found something interesting.” He pulled out his phone and swiftly brought up the best picture that showed the florescent lettering. “I believe this is Russian. Can you read this?”

Anya took the phone and studied it for a second. “It’s Russian.” She enlarged the picture so she could more easily read it. An alarmed look slowly crept over her face as she examined the writing. When she came to the last bit, a terrifying revelation seemed to hit her like a slap in the face. She gasped as she placed her hand over her mouth.

Peter leaned in expecting to see something on the small screen. “What is it?”

Anya slowly lifted her head, her eyes filled with shock. “Oh my God!”

3

SPACE RACE

1966

Lee Collins nervously wiggled his foot as the President of the United States leaned back in his reclining leather chair intently studying the report Lee had just handed over. As the Executive Secretary of the National Aeronautics and Space Council, Lee was the principle advisor to the White House regarding space issues. He was responsible for keeping the president abreast on how America was doing in its space race against the Soviet Union. Even with a Gemini space mission currently underway, Lee needed to inform the president of the latest news.

As the tense moments passed, the president’s brow began to narrow, a defined crinkle settling on his forehead. He slowly took off his reading glasses before swiveling around to focus in on the executive secretary. “So you’re telling me we can’t put a man on the moon by the end of this decade?”

Keeping his poise, Lee straightened up in the chair. Though the president had long known of the combustion instability problem associated with the Saturn V rocket, this was Lee’s final assessment of the situation. “Yes, sir. Even though we thought we had solved the instability problems with the F-1 engines back in ’61, the problem has been recurring in recent tests preparing for the first Apollo launch.”

The president slammed the chair’s armrest hard with his fist. “Damn it! We can’t lose to the Soviets. There must be something we can do.”

“Sir, only one country has the expertise to solve this problem.”

“Let me guess. The USSR?”

“Yes, sir.”

The president angrily swiveled his chair before propping his snakeskin cowboy boots up on the edge of his desk. “Can’t we just copy their design?”

“Sir, the Soviets have figured out how to handcraft this particular part that attaches to the combustion chamber, which would fix the problem. These parts are made by Russian engineering artisans in a process we haven’t been able to duplicate.”

Shaking his head in disgust, the president let out a frustrated sigh as he looked out the window, mumbling to himself. “If those Commies conquer the moon, they’ll control the world.” The president started tapping his glasses on his armrest. “How far behind are we?”

Every time Lee visited the White House, the president wanted to know if America was gaining ground on the Soviets in the race to the moon. “If the engine wasn’t a problem, I would say about four months.”

“Damn, that’s close.” The president crossed his legs. “What about…” he looked down at the floor, struggling to think of something, “…that astronaut flying a jet pack later today in space, umm, what’s-his-name.”

“Tom Novak?”

“Yeah, Tom Novak. Won’t that show up the Russians when he jets around in space over the world? That’s never been done before.”

“Yes, sir. That will be very impressive. Especially considering it’s only our second spacewalk. It will definitely put a notch on our belt and put some fear in the Soviets that one day soon our Air Force will have men patrolling space on jet packs.” Lee leaned back in his chair. “But as impressive as it will be, it doesn’t get us any closer to the moon.”

The president put his hands over his face and rubbed hard for a second before slowly sliding them off. “Would you say the Soviets are staying on schedule?”

“As long as the Iron Curtain is in place, it’s anyone’s guess. They have had some notable successes recently, which they’ve graciously shared with the world. It’s the failures they don’t publicize that are the big unknowns. Our intelligence says the N1 rocket looks to be ready for a test launch soon. If that’s the case, then a mission to the moon wouldn’t be too far off. At this point, I would have to say yes, they’re hitting their marks.”

The president’s boots dropped to the floor with a loud thud. He got up out of his chair and walked over to a large antique globe resting within a chestnut-wood floor stand. He spun the globe and stared at the spinning ball. All of a sudden the president turned to Lee and said in a direct and serious tone, “How tough would you say it is to put a man on the moon, compared to other achievements throughout history?”

Lee leaned forward, putting his arms on his legs. “Sending a man over 200,000 miles through deep space and landing him safely on the lunar surface and then bringing him back home safely would have to be one of the greatest accomplishments ever achieved by man. It’s probably humanity’s most challenging undertaking.”

“Exactly. So don’t you think the Soviet Union would be struggling too?”

“I don’t know. Probably.”

“For all we know, right now, the Kremlin could be saying that we’re in the lead.” The president put a finger on the globe, stopping its spinning. “How did you come to the conclusion we’re four months behind?”

“Earlier this year, their unmanned Luna spacecraft did a soft landing on the moon, four months before we did it with Surveyor.”

“Okay, so two years ago we were a year behind. Last year, six months. So we’ve been catching up steadily, which must be making Moscow nervous. I bet you they’re starting to feel the heat. They could be thinking they’re going to lose and might be willing to make a deal.”

“A deal?”

“For years the UN has dangled a space treaty in front of us and the Soviets stating the country that lands first could not claim ownership of the moon. Both countries have been circling the table with neither side stepping up and agreeing to the terms. Intelligence has learned Moscow is now willing to sign that treaty. Why? Possibly because they’re behind us and are scared of an American-owned moon. So what if we leaked out we’re having some instability issues with the F-1 engine, a problem we are confident we can fix without any outside help. The Soviets might think that’s their in, offering a fix in secret in exchange for us signing the treaty.”

Lee shook his head. “Sir, I only see that working if Moscow feels they’re going to lose the race.”

“Do you have any proof they aren’t thinking that?”

“No, sir. But it tips our hand.”

“True, it’s a gamble. But let’s see if they bite. You never know how they might react. If by chance they are having some serious problem of their own, they might be interested. If not, we haven’t lost anything. But I guarantee you this, the possibility of America owning the moon scares the hell out of the Russians.”

“As does a Red moon to us, sir.”

“Exactly.”

TOM NOVAK WAS gasping for air as he wrestled against Newton’s laws, struggling to reach the back end of the Gemini spacecraft that was zooming faster than 17,500 miles per hour over South Africa. The capsule was entering the cold, night side of Earth on the start of its thirty-second orbit. The exhausted young astronaut was running on pure adrenaline after spending over a half an hour wrestling with his umbilical cord while testing how to move around in space. Having already surpassed the longest spacewalk ever, Tom still had the most exciting and challenging part of his EVA coming up.

As only the third man to venture out into the harshness of space, he was about to attempt something incredible and straight out of a sci-fi novel. With the Soviets pulling off many firsts in space, including the first spacewalk, NASA needed to do something fantastic to get the world’s attention. Tom’s mission was to strap on a space-age jet pack and fly tethered around in space, just like his childhood comic book hero, Buck Rogers. Even for 1966, this was one hell of an undertaking that would surely show up their space archrivals.

The Astronaut Maneuvering Unit, also called the AMU jet pack, was waiting for Tom at the back end of the ship in the depths of the adaptor section. The ten-million-dollar contraption was designed by the Air Force to rule space. The hope was that in the near future, America would be policing the heavens with military men zipping around on these machines. They would be building space stations, performing rescues, and disabling enemy satellites. Air Force Major Tom Novak was going to be the first to test this expensive toy in space.

As he approached the outside edge of the bell-shaped adaptor section in the dimming sunlight, he was greeted by an unwelcome surprise. To his shock, hundreds of dangerously jagged tooth-like metal edges lined up all along the entire rim of the metal ring. Mission planners had failed to prepare Tom for this unexpected obstacle. The razor-sharp barrier was the aftermath of the Titan rocket ripping away. If just one of those pointed teeth punctured Tom’s spacesuit, he would be dead within minutes.

Preferring not to alarm mission control and chance his spacewalk being cut short, Tom kept quiet as he analyzed the situation. Drawing from his recent experience floating around in space, he felt he could safely maneuver around the edge without his umbilical cord or himself coming into contact with any of the sharp edges. Confident it was a safe bet, he decided to give it a go.

After placing supporting wires meticulously over the treacherous edge, Tom expertly maneuvered over the lip into the dark abyss beyond. Holding tightly onto a handhold, Tom flipped up his sun visor to get his first look at the ghostly machine as it sat patiently in the darkness. The contraption seemed to be challenging Tom, as if it had a mind of its own. He had a love-hate relationship with the metal device. He had spent more time with the apparatus over the last six months than he had with his wife. Sometimes the jet pack cooperated during training, but at other times it was as stubborn as a mule. Tom was determined to control the beast this time around.

With a limited supply of oxygen, Tom was on the clock. He had to stay on a strict timeline if he wanted any shot at flying the machine. He had to be fully strapped in and ready to go when their spacecraft entered daybreak, less than thirty minutes away. He was in a race against the sun.

Sweating profusely, he worked hand-over-hand through the darkness along a small railing into the recessed area until he was positioned next to the jet pack. Unfortunately, only one of the tiny lights in the spacecraft’s flared back end worked, giving off light no brighter than a candle. To compound matters, his visor was starting to fog up with condensation due to his heavy breathing. Unable to see, he was forced to navigate by memory through the dark shadows, working more by feel, which was a challenge in his bulky gloves. Come on, Tom, you can do this.

Tom had practiced strapping himself onto the AMU hundreds of times, even doing it weightless aboard a cargo plane flying in arcing parabolic dives. But he was not prepared for the full effects of Newton’s laws. Every time he tried to turn a knob, his body would rotate instead of the knob. He was forced to work with only one hand while he held himself steady with the other, something he had rarely practiced. The overall job was made even more taxing with his suit wanting to stay in its designed ballooned position, fighting every simple move he made. Easy tasks were becoming practically impossible.

After five minutes of struggling, he was finally on the AMU’s saddle seat, secured by a common seatbelt fastened around his lap. He was going wherever this wild bull rocketed.

The moment of truth had arrived. This baby had to power up, or he wasn’t going anywhere. He clenched his jaw before clicking the power switch. Through his fogged visor, Tom could see flickering lights glowing off the machine’s small control panel, triggering a surge of relief through his body. Yes!

Tom spent the next fifteen minutes struggling to replace the ship’s umbilical cord with the AMU’s smaller cord. This was an exercise he had often completed in a couple minutes on Earth. Staying calm, he eventually unhooked himself from the ship’s lifeline and connected up to the machine, relying on it to feed him the needed oxygen, communications and electrical power. The AMU umbilical cord connected to a two-way radio that only worked by a line of sight signal, which only his commander, Sam Cunningham, could hear. Sam was fully suited up, sitting in the left seat of the spacecraft, monitoring the controls and keeping NASA updated on Tom’s progress. The radio was designed to work perfectly when Tom was flying around on the jet pack. But behind the ship, it was practically useless.

Tom went about working through the many steps he needed to complete before the bird could fly. His commander occasionally broke his concentration, checking on his progress. Because of the terrible radio transmission, Tom often had to yell or repeat his response several times, which was always the same, “Going as planned.” The fact was, he was already wiped out, but he couldn’t let on. If Sam knew how dire things were, he would call off the test.

When Tom finished the last step, he couldn’t believe he had beaten the sun. But he was too beat to celebrate. His heartbeat was probably triple his normal rate and his visor was completely fogged over. The only good news was that after hooking up the AMU umbilical cord, NASA was no longer receiving readings from his body sensors. Mission control was completely in the dark on how bad his physical condition was. If they knew, they would scrub the test. But since they had no idea, flying the machine would be his call.

Tom finally had a moment to relax and catch his breath. He collapsed backward against the machine’s supports while waiting for daybreak. He needed a miraculous second wind to kick in if he was going to have any success flying the machine, let alone make it back safely into the spacecraft. He rubbed the tip of his nose on his visor to clear a circle the size of a dime in the condensation, allowing him a small spot to see through clearly. The predawn Earth glowed with a few scattered lights. Soon the Gemini spacecraft would be on the daylight side. By then he should be flying the jet pack. He was certain that the feat would cause celebratory toasts among all his family and friends partying at his house.

Tom closed his eyes and tried to calm down, doing his best to reduce his heavy breathing. He hoped thinking of his nine-month-old boy might do the trick. But sadly, he couldn’t come up with a clear image of Peter’s face in his mind. Because of Tom’s endless hours training for the mission, he had hardly been around since his son’s birth. Disappointed, Tom opened his eyes. He convinced himself he was doing the right thing putting work before family. There would be time down the road to be a part of Peter’s life.

Sam’s garbled transmission came in over the radio. “Mission Con…l h…s given you okay to fly A…U.”

Tom opened his eyes and clenched his gloved fist in a minor celebration. He repeated the message to confirm he heard it correctly. “Roger, I have the okay to fly the AMU.”

“Rog…”

The sun started rising behind Tom, giving him an unbelievable view of his planet waking up in front of him, its wondrous colors beginning to shine brilliantly. He stared through the small wiped area, mesmerized by the slow, turning Earth.

“Re…se in th…e min..s”

Shaking his head, Tom focused back in on his job. “Please repeat.”

“Release in …ree m…utes.”

“Roger, release in three minutes.”

Sam had to flip a switch in the cabin to release the jet pack, shearing a bolt behind Tom that held the AMU securely to the ship. As Tom patiently waited, a part of him questioned if he was doing the right thing. He couldn’t see out of his visor, and he was still so doggone tired. His hope was the sun would warm up his shield and defrost away some of the moisture, but flying the machine would still be a major challenge in his current condition. His concern was not only successfully flying the AMU back to the ship, but also having enough energy to get off the contraption and crawl back into the spacecraft, which, based on lessons learned during NASA’s only other EVA, was one of the toughest tasks of all.

If Tom could not make it back into the ship for whatever reason, Sam had orders to cut Tom loose. The commander did not have an umbilical cord of his own to attempt a rescue. NASA felt one astronaut returning home was better than none. The grim possibility of Sam closing the hatch and leaving Tom to die in space was never discussed between the two friends. It was just an accepted risk that came with the job.

A devil seemed to be standing on one of Tom’s shoulders, trying to convince him to fly the machine. On the other shoulder was an angel, trying to stop him. The devil made a valiant effort, pointing out how hard Tom had worked to get to this point and how the feat would help his career. The angel simply said, think of your wife and son.

“Sw…ch fl… in ten sec…”

“Roger, switch flipped in ten seconds.” Tom shook his head, clearing the angels from his mind. It was time to focus. He convinced himself he was doing the right thing. The love for his family was strong, but he had a job to do.

ANNE NOVAK CLOSED the curtains of her master bedroom to prevent any reporters from seeing up inside the second floor room. Though most of the media were stationed on the front lawn waiting for her to step out and make a statement, some occasionally walked around the perimeter of the home, peering over the fence. The sun still penetrated through the closed sheer curtains, lighting up the room. She turned to her dresser drawers, reaching for an ashtray, lighter, and a pack of cigarettes. She caught a quick glance of herself in the dresser mirror, clad in her best cocktail dress with her hair up in her favorite bouffant hairstyle. Being new among the astronaut wives, she felt the pressure of trying to look glamorous for the press. Without it ever being said, it was understood that the NASA bigwigs expected the astronauts’ wives to look and act a certain way when speaking to the media. Their husbands’ futures depended on this perfect image, regardless if it was a facade.

Anne walked over and sat down on the side of her bed next to her baby who was lying calmly, propped up against a pillow. She set the ashtray on the opposite side and pulled out a cigarette. Her son’s eyes widened as he reached out his arms at the sight of the red plastic-wrapped pack. She smiled as she handed it to him. She had switched brands because Peter liked the red pack. He grabbed it eagerly and began sucking on it. Anne lit up the cigarette and eagerly inhaled a lungful of the velvet smoke, holding it in for a while before releasing a cloud of tension.

Anne needed this quiet moment away from the crowd downstairs. The home was packed with family and friends who were all watching the live news reports of Tom’s spacewalk on the black and white television set. With her bedroom door closed, she had turned up the volume of the futuristic squawk box that NASA had installed so she could keep track of the mission. All the communications between mission control and Tom’s Gemini spacecraft were being piped into the Nassau Bay home. As long as the speaker crackled with voices, she knew everything was okay. If the transmission was ever cut off, then there was trouble.

Another speaker was located in the living room. Though the voices came through scratchy, she could still make out most of what was being said. She always left the volume turned up on all the boxes, even through the night, allowing her to always hear Tom’s voice. Though she didn’t understand much of the technical jargon being used, she could always tell how Tom was doing by the tone of his voice.

Hearing her husband struggling over the last forty-five minutes during his spacewalk had made her nervous. She could hear in Tom’s voice that he was exhausted, yet he still had to fly the AMU jet pack. She worried he might push himself too far and get into trouble. She knew how important the space program was to him, and no way would he quit voluntarily in the middle of a spacewalk, no matter how dire the situation. The only way Tom’s EVA would be cut short was if NASA insisted on it, and even then, she wondered.

Anne took another deep drag as she lovingly rubbed Peter’s belly. After exhaling the cloud of smoke away from her son, she turned to look into Peter’s blue eyes. “We need to make certain your daddy doesn’t do anything silly. We want him to make it back into his spacecraft safely so he can come back home to us.”

A knock on the door broke Anne’s attention. She called out, “Yes?”

A soft voice came through the closed door. “Hey Anne, it’s Virginia. I was just checking in to find out if you’re okay.”

Virginia was Tom’s little sister. Anne had gotten to know her better over the last few days. She found the thirty-one-year-old brunette to be a warm, down-to-earth Southern girl. Anne put out the cigarette in the ashtray. “Come on in, Virginia.”

Virginia slowly cracked opened the door before hesitantly sticking her head in. “Are you sure? I don’t want to bother you if you need some time alone.”

Anne leaned over the bed, setting the ashtray on her nightstand before turning down the volume on the squawk box, softening the voices coming out. “No, it’s fine, come on in.”

Virginia gradually walked over, sitting close to Anne. “I was a little worried something might be wrong since you weren’t downstairs.”

“I just needed to get away.” Anne looked over toward the squawk box. “I’m a little worried about Tom.” Feeling comfortable with Virginia, she opened up. “There seemed to be some uneasiness in his voice, which is making me a little nervous.”

Virginia patted Anne’s leg. “You don’t have to worry about my brother. He won’t do anything stupid.”

Anne smiled. “I’m afraid he might overexert himself, possibly push himself too far.”

“With the sensors NASA has all over his body, they’re very aware of how he’s doing physically. If they have any worries, he’ll be ordered back in.”

“Think he’ll listen?”

Virginia reached over and turned up the speaker sound. “Because of you and Peter, he will.”

4

ASTRONAUT MANEUVERING UNIT

A surge of excitement shot through Tom as his commander fired the pyrotechnics, shearing the bolt that held the AMU jet pack to the Gemini spacecraft. The desperately needed second wind Tom was hoping for was kicking in. He floated anxiously in the recessed area of the adapter section ready to fly the expensive military toy. He felt like a trapped bird suddenly set free. With the sunlight beginning to glint from behind the ship, he confidently flipped down his sun visor. Time to earn your paycheck, Tom. He lightly pushed off the ship’s foot rail and gradually floated away from the back end of the spacecraft. His gloved hands were securely wrapped around the control knobs stationed at the end of each extended mechanical arm. With intense concentration, he focused through the dime-sized clearing on his faceplate. Having never trained with such a restricted view, he had his work cut out for him. It was time to show what kind of a pilot he was.

To make sure he didn’t get disoriented because of his fogged visor, Tom kept a constant visual of his spacecraft through the small peephole. Even though he was attached to a tether, he could still end up flying aimlessly around in circles hunting for the ship if he ever lost track of it.

“Al…ay…om.”

Fed up with struggling to decipher what Sam was saying, Tom needed to get around from the back end of the ship. Before he could do that, however, his instructions were to first test the controls of the AMU to verify all the thrusters functioned as designed. “AMU released. Will do status checks.”

Tom sailed through all the translational characteristics of the machine. He felt like a little kid with a new toy as the jet pack rolled, yawed sideways and pitched end over end. The AMU performed perfectly. Satisfied with the checks, Tom flew along the side of the ship toward the front end. His orders were to do all his flying in full view of Sam so the commander could keep mission control abreast of exactly how the test was going.

Because of the strict timeline, Tom knew at this point in their orbit they were flying directly over Texas. He was disappointed he couldn’t clearly see the Earth. Regardless, he still raised his gloved pinky and did a small wave toward his family.

“Everything okay, Tom?”

Sam’s voice was finally coming in clear. Tom flew by the cockpit and was unable to see his friend through his distorted faceplate. “All is fine. This machine works like a charm.”

“Roger. Good to hear.”

Tom positioned himself at the nose of the spacecraft, facing Sam. He flipped up his sun visor to look for the small hook into which he was to slip one end of his 125-foot tether line. He relied more on feel, searching for the hold. Finally finding it with his gloved hand, he secured the line, insuring it wouldn’t get tangled on anything extending off the ship. He then lightly pushed off the nose of the craft, before blindly waving in the direction of his commander. “This is fun. You should try it, Sam.”

“I think Houston wants me to stay in the spacecraft. Maybe next time.”

“Copy that.”

An unexpected concern colored Sam’s voice. “Do you have a good view out there, Tom?”

Sam was obviously addressing Tom’s fogged-up visor, doing it in such a way as to not alarm Houston. Tom appreciated his commander being coy in checking on the problem. Tom needed to give the assurance everything was okay so he could continue with the test. He said with unmistakable confidence in his voice, “It’s probably the best view anyone can have.”

“Roger.”

Flying the AMU in a face forward position, toward the Gemini spacecraft, was probably Tom’s safest bet, considering his limited visibility. He pulled back on the left controller and started zipping away backward in a straight line deeper into space. “Wow, this is some ride.”

Tom’s AMU flight plan was to fly a figure-four-maneuver. He flew back about eighty feet from the ship in a direction away from Earth, then brought the contraption to a stop, placing the machine in its automatic stabilizing mode. Different than when he was out of control wrestling with his umbilical cord at the beginning of his EVA, he was now sitting comfortably on this amazing throne, high above the world. With his feet dangling below, he peered through the small window on his visor that had been gradually getting bigger. “Sam, this view is simply incredible. Getting more remarkable every second.”

The sun was starting to warm up Tom’s faceplate, and with his reduced heart rate, the condensation was slowly evaporating. As he continued to stare down at Earth, he found it tough to tell exactly where he was looking, especially with the cloud cover. The image in his mind of his planet was defined by the many maps and globes he had seen, with countries differentiated by colors. But at this moment, he saw Earth as a place without borders. Aware of the many wars and conflicts currently happening below, he wished all humans could experience this incredible sight, changing their outlook to make the world a more harmonious place. He raised his arm and gave a big wave.

Sam radioed, “Who are you waving at?”

Tom smiled. “Our home.”

Sam was all business. “We’ll be there soon. How are you feeling?”

“Amazing.” It was time to get back to work. Tom adeptly operated the controls, turning the jet pack 90 degrees, so it was at a right angle to the ship. He flew backwards another 80 feet. With his visor practically clear, he could easily see his ship down below him. He felt comfortable flying forward. He rotated the AMU 45 degrees away from the ship before flying forward another 70 feet. At the peak of the figure-four maneuver, he pulled back on the controls. He rotated so he was aimed directly at the Gemini spacecraft. He estimated he was floating well over 100 feet out. “How do I look, Sam?”

“Marvelous. I need to get some pictures. Sit tight.”

Hearing rumblings over the radio, Tom assumed his commander was probably retrieving the camera. Tom took the opportunity to take a quick look at deep space behind him. He slowly rotated the AMU so he faced the infinite void surrounding him. He was in awe. It was just him and God. He shook his head as he took in the inspirational moment. He pitched the machine slightly up to get a good look at the bright moon, proudly glimmering in the starry black sky. That was his ultimate destination. The celestial body seemed to be teasing him. Tom winked in its direction. Someday, my friend, someday.

A sudden jerk on his tether caught Tom off guard, spinning him dangerously. Knowing he didn’t move the controls, his initial thought was a faulty thruster was firing. Before he could figure out the problem, he was jerked again in a different direction.

Tom’s radio crackled with Sam’s voice, laced with a tinge of panic. “Tom, there’s a problem. The ship is pitching over.”

Unable to see the spinning ship, Tom did his best to stay composed. “I’m being pulled by my tether. What’s happening?”

“I don’t know. I was in platform mode and when I grabbed the camera, thruster six stopped operating.”

In the platform mode, all thrusters occasionally fired to keep the ship stable. If one wasn’t operating, then the craft would go into an unstable spin. Tom assumed the spacecraft was tumbling end over end, and that monster was pulling him along. His fear was the tether line wrapping around the ship and being cut by those jagged edges on the ship’s back end. “Can you stop it?”

“We’re in LOS. Trying to troubleshoot the situation without Houston’s help. Hang on.” In Loss of Signal and unable to speak to mission control, Sam needed to solve the problem on his own and he needed to do it fast. LOS happened between tracking stations and could last as long as eleven minutes.

Tom decided he needed to get control of his situation and fly the AMU. He started to fight the constant jerking motions when suddenly they stopped. Still tumbling in space and disorientated, Tom called out in relief, “Did you get the ship under control?”

Sam spoke impatiently through sharp breaths. “Still working the problem.”

If the spacecraft was still spinning and Tom wasn’t being pulled, his worst nightmare could be coming true. A sudden chill ran through his body at the thought of his tether being cut. Tom quickly scrambled to work, applying his expertise to regain control of the AMU and pull himself out of his spin. After a few intense moments working the controls, he was able to stabilize the machine. He cringed at the sight in front of him; his tether line floating loose aimlessly as the Gemini spacecraft tumbled away. He fought the impulse to panic. “Sam, my tether line is cut.”

“Roger, getting ship under control.”

The Gemini spacecraft’s rotation started to slow until it was finally stable.

Sam said directly, but in an apologetic tone, “I must have knocked that damn breaker reaching for the camera. I got it back in place. You okay?”

As the ship floated farther away, Tom’s concern was whether or not there was enough fuel to save him. Sam had used most of the ship’s fuel practicing rendezvous exercises the previous day. With less than ten percent left, attempting a rescue would probably be too risky. “I’m fine.”

“Tom, we’re still in LOS. I’m going to fly over and get you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Stay in platform mode.”

Marveling at Sam’s coolness, Tom heaved a deep sigh of relief, pleased his commander wasn’t waiting for Houston’s approval. “Roger.” Tom stayed off the AMU controls as instructed. Changing position would only complicate the task of being chased down.

Sam swung into action, moving the ship decisively, quickly covering the distance to reach Tom. The commander showed off his expert rendezvous skills, positioning the ship within feet of Tom. Sam cockily radioed, “Somebody need a ride?”

A relieved smile crossed Tom’s face as he maneuvered up to the ship. He was surprised Sam hadn’t made a call out to Houston. He was positive LOS was long over. He grabbed the hatch and pulled it fully open. Sam reeled in the ship’s umbilical cord for Tom to attach to. After unfastening the tether and switching from the AMU’s umbilical to the ship’s, Tom unbuckled the jet pack. He pushed the workhorse away, taking a second to watch the chunk of metal drift off, destined to burn up in the atmosphere. The jet pack had done a hell of a job, making up for all those challenges during training. Tom said goodbye to the old friend, then twisted around and pushed himself feet first through the hatch opening.

Eventually, with Sam’s help, Tom was able to get fully back inside the cabin. “Are we still in LOS?”

Sam spoke in a serious tone. “No, I cut communication. We need to get our story straight before I resume COMM.”

Tom froze. He was all ears.

“This never happened. We cut your EVA short because of your fogged visor.”

Considering the fact that Sam had just saved his life, Tom would have probably gone along with anything. “Got it.”

DRESSED IN HIS NASA-blue flight coveralls, Tom waited patiently in an uncomfortable wooden chair across from his boss, Dick Stanton. With his feet casually up on his desk, Dick leaned back in his leather chair, busy on the phone. Tom was curious why he had been called to the office. He hoped it was to be offered his next crew assignment. As the Director of Flight Crew Operations, Dick made the decisions on who flew what and when. Though his crew selections had to be approved by upper management, as far as Tom knew, none of the director’s recommendations had ever been rejected.

NASA and the press had done a good job putting a positive spin on Tom’s Gemini mission, not focusing on its failures. He and Sam had stuck to their agreement, keeping secret about what exactly had happened during Tom’s EVA.

Becoming an instant celebrity after splashdown, Tom’s post flight obligation was to attend the many parties and galas celebrating their flight. NASA wanted to capitalize on the astronauts’ sudden fame, promoting the program to ensure government funding continued. Tom dutifully accepted the chore, even though he felt like a circus chimp being paraded around. He often found sanctuary from this crazy celebrity life at home and among his peers, where he was treated like a regular guy.

With all his post flight requirements completed, Tom was itching to get back into the crew rotation. He was no longer a rookie begging for any type of an assignment, but a veteran hoping to get a juicy slot, possibly a commander’s seat. Though his Gemini flight had had its share of problems, he still believed he had performed well. The mission was simply cursed with bad luck, having a string of unavoidable misfortunes. Future Gemini seats were filling up fast, and if he ever wanted to land an Apollo flight to the moon, he had to get back into the rotation. He flashed a restless look toward his boss. Dick raised a finger, signaling he would be done with his phone call shortly.

Tom took the moment to look out the ninth floor office window of the NASA administration building. From his perch he could see his neighborhood across the NASA 1 roadway. Thanks to empty lots in the new development, he was pretty sure he could pick out his home’s white brick chimney. He sent his love to Anne and Peter as he lowered his eyes toward the futuristic buildings scattered about below. The Manned Spacecraft Center had become quite an impressive facility since opening for business less than three years earlier. The MSC was now the hub for all of America’s manned space activities. The Houston center was where the astronauts’ offices were and where they did most of their training. To Tom, the place was his home away from home.

Adjusting his position on the hard seat, Tom crossed his arms impatiently as he scanned the many photos hanging on the wood paneled wall next to him. Most were of Dick hanging out with various celebrities and politicians. The picture with President Kennedy impressed Tom the most. He never got to meet the president, but wished he had. Tom’s belief was that if he fulfilled his dream of walking on the moon someday, he would owe a great debt of gratitude to the young president.

Dick hung up the phone with an apologetic expression. “Sorry about that, Tom. So how are you?”

Tom straightened up in his chair. “I’m good. So what’s up?”

“Well I’m sorry to say, it’s not good news.”

Tom slumped back. Dick was never one to beat around the bush.

“The doctors were concerned about your excessive heart rate during your EVA. Right now, they want you grounded until further tests are completed.”

Tom clinched his fist hearing the heartbreaking news. He couldn’t let his future rest in some quack’s hands and chance missing out on an Apollo assignment. He decided to be up front with his boss. “Dick, I was practically dying up there. All the training in the world wouldn’t have prepared me for what it was like moving around in space. The simplest task, like turning a knob, took a ton of energy along with creative ingenuity just to figure out how to do it.”

Leaning forward, Dick put his arms on his desk and raised an eyebrow. “You mentioned the technical difficulties in your debriefing along with your fogged visor, but you never let on about struggling physically. Throughout your EVA, you radioed everything was fine.”

“My situation was worse than I let on in the crew debriefing. I was flat out exhausted. Wrestling with the umbilical for thirty minutes alone practically wiped me out. After that, it took all of my being to get myself strapped onto the AMU and have it ready to go. I promise you, my heart rate was skyrocketing because the workload was way tougher than we had anticipated. I guarantee it would have happened to any of our guys.”

Dick stood up. Towering over Tom, his boss said in a stern voice, “But every one of those men would have informed us how dire things were. That is what I expect from all of our astronauts, including you.”

Tom realized now he might have made the wrong call. “I know, and I should have informed mission control of the difficulties. But we had come too far not to try to fly the thing.”

“Not if it puts the whole program at risk.” Dick sat back down in disgust. He turned toward the window for a second. He gradually brought his eyes back around and narrowed them on Tom. “Look, I always felt flying the AMU was way too aggressive for where we are at this point, but we were practically force fed the thing from the Air Force. I recommended we wait, but I was shot down. One of the reasons I picked you for this mission was I could count on you sticking to protocol.”

It was obvious Tom was making things worse. He had to go into damage control. “Dick, you know you can count on me. Though my heart was racing, I was still under control. I would have never done anything to risk my life or the future of the program.”

Dick pounded his fist hard on his desk. “That’s what you did risk: the program. If you had become a dead corpse floating above us, do you think we would have a chance in hell of achieving Kennedy’s goal? No. The American people wouldn’t let us. We would be shut down.” Dick leaned back and shot Tom an angry glare. “Damn it, Tom! I expected better from you.”

It was a good thing Dick didn’t know about the cut tether, saving Sam’s career for causing the mishap. “I’m sorry. I should have been more open about my situation. I thought I was doing what was in the best interest of the program, especially since the whole world was watching. I see now I was wrong. It won’t happen again.”

Dick didn’t look satisfied. “Right now you’re grounded. I’ll put you in some management role until I decide what to do.”

Tom felt like an eagle that just had its wings clipped. He lowered his head in disappointment knowing he probably just lost his ticket to the moon.

DEPRESSED AFTER HIS meeting with Dick, Tom had to get out of the office. As soon as he had the chance, he snuck away. When he entered his home, the aroma of fresh bread baking in the kitchen tantalized his senses, instantly perking him up. He crossed through the clean family room and stopped at the kitchen threshold. He stood behind Anne, who was across the room wearing her favorite everyday sundress, cleaning dishes with her back to him. In the center of the room sat Peter in his highchair, eating Cheerios. Tom’s spirits were already starting to lift seeing his family. It was as if he was being set free and stepping into another world.

His son heard Tom enter and looked up. A big smile appeared on Peter’s face. Even though the boy probably wouldn’t understand it, Tom instinctively put a finger over his lips to signal for his son to stay quiet. Being home early, Tom wanted to surprise Anne. He tiptoed softly across the linoleum floor and planted a gentle kiss on his wife’s neck, startling her. Anne jerked around with a surprised look. “What are you doing home so early?”

Tom let out a soft chuckle, pleased his little sneak attack had worked. “I needed to get away from the office.”

Anne wiped her hands on her yellow apron and moved in close to give him a proper kiss. “Well this is a pleasant surprise.”

Tom kissed her supple lips and then walked over to Peter. “Yeah, I had a bad day.” He rubbed the top of his son’s head. The boy kept eating his cereal. Tom stole a few Cheerios, popping them into his mouth before taking a seat on a barstool at the counter.

Anne shut off the water, turned around, and leaned back against the sink. “What happened?”

Tom plastered a happy mask on his face. “Let’s first talk about your day.”

Anne straightened her apron as she walked over to the counter. “My day was nice. Uneventful.” She grabbed an ashtray, sliding it across the counter opposite Tom. Anne clutched a pack of cigarettes lying by the phone and pulled out a lone smoke. “So why the bad day?”

Reflecting upon the meeting with his boss, frustration began to boil within Tom. “I think I lost my ride to the moon.”

Anne stopped in mid-motion, letting the unlit cigarette dangle between her fingers. “What makes you say that?”

“I had a meeting today with Dick, and he grounded me.”

“What in the heavens for?”

“Because of an excessive heart rate I experienced during my spacewalk. I guess it made the doctors nervous.”

She reached for the lighter. “Maybe they’re just playing it safe. I’m sure after some tests and further training you’ll convince them you’re fine.”

His wife was trying to be encouraging, but Tom knew deep down she wouldn’t mind if he never flew again. She only supported his quest for the moon because that was what he wanted. If he ended his career today, she would be the first to support him on the decision. His job carried a certain amount of risk, which weighed heavily on her mind, even more so since Peter had joined their family. Tom leaned back on the barstool. “I wish it was that easy. However, I think I made things worse.”

She lit her cigarette and took a deep drag. “How?”

Tom had to decide how open he should be. When he returned home from space, he originally planned on telling his wife everything about the mission, including all the problems. When he discussed the incident where his tether line had been cut, Anne became very distraught, hearing that she had almost lost him. After consoling her and giving her the assurance he was never in serious danger, Tom decided it was best not to elaborate on how bad his condition actually was before flying the AMU. If she knew the truth, there was probably a good chance she would question him ever taking another mission.

It was time for Tom to come clean on how bad his situation really was. “Because I kept mission control in the dark on how bad my physical condition was. I think Dick now questions if he can trust me.”

Curiosity brewed within Anne’s eyes over her cigarette’s softly glowing tip. “You told me you struggled out there, but you never said you were in trouble prior to the accident. Were you?”

He looked over to Peter. “Maybe.” He shook his head before bringing his eyes back to hers and confessing, “I seriously considered calling off the test when I was strapped to the AMU. My visor was completely fogged over, and I was physically spent. But testing the jet pack was too important to the program, and I couldn’t just give up. I was there to do a job.”

Anne appeared to be trying to contain her cool as she flicked the cigarette’s ashes into the ashtray. “Give up? Are you serious? They aren’t paying you to kill yourself.” She looked away for a beat before turning back. “How could you chance risking your life? Once you felt the odds were against you, you should have abandoned flying that damn machine.”

“You’re right. I just got carried away by the overall experience. After all the failures with our mission, I thought flying the AMU would erase them. I guess I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Anne placed the cigarette in the ashtray before crossing her arms and staring at him. “You did the longest EVA ever in space. That alone made your mission a success.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about it happening again. That was probably my last flight.”

Anne spoke with conviction in her voice. “That’s not what I want and you know it. I want you to be happy, and being an astronaut makes you happy. Did you tell Dick you almost died out there when you were cut loose?”

“No, Sam and I made a pact not to disclose that incident, and I’m sticking to it. That wouldn’t change anything anyway, except maybe getting us both grounded.”

Anne reached over the counter and grabbed his arm. “All I ask is that you never take any unnecessary risks.”

Tom put his hand on hers.

Anne gazed directly at her husband. “I’m confident you will fly again, and I want you to promise me you will never put yourself in a situation where you might not come home.”

“If I’m lucky to fly a second time, I guarantee not to cross that line.”

“Promise?”

Tom squeezed her hand and flashed a confident wink. “Promise.”

She smiled. “Well then, you need to set Dick straight. What does he have you doing?”

Tom released her hand and settled back down on the cushioned barstool. “He put me in management.”

“Well then you just kiss his butt and do whatever you have to do to get back into rotation. I’m behind you one hundred percent.”

Tom grinned at his wife’s choice of words, which were uncharacteristic for her. “Roger that, Captain.”

5

THE ENEMY

Moscow, USSR, was having one of its typical cold mornings as Viktor Alexandrov, dressed in his Soviet air force uniform, anxiously marched down the chilly corridor behind a tall Army commander. This was Viktor’s first visit to the Kremlin, and deep inside he felt like a little boy wishing he could venture through the antique rooms he passed. But instead, he kept a stoic face, his eyes cast forward, as his steps stayed in cadence with those of the robotic man in front.

Viktor had no idea why he had been summoned to the historical palace. The young engineer cosmonaut suspected high ranking Party leaders would be present at the meeting, which probably had something to do with the N1 rocket. Having been selected for the elite group of cosmonauts training for the first Soviet lunar landing, part of Viktor’s preparation was learning the intricacies of the massive moon rocket. His particular assignment was the rocket’s NK-15 engines. Thirty-two of these powerful engines were positioned at the base of the Block A first stage. He had spent long hours over the last couple of months working closely with the engine’s engineers. He did everything he could to become an expert on the complicated setup.

Two armed military guards were stationed in front of a large, antique wooden door that Viktor and the commander approached.

“Viktor Alexandrov reporting.”

The men saluted before opening the door.

Returning the salute, Viktor was surprised to hear a loud dictatorial voice booming out of the room, indicating that the meeting was already in progress. He entered alone, and was shocked to see the Chief Marshal of Aviation standing at the foot of the conference table shouting instructions to the men seated around the table. Viktor immediately snapped to attention, but no one seemed to notice. Wondering if he was late, he did a quick assessment of who was present. He knew of the chief marshal, who reported directly to the General Secretary on all space matters, and the Deputy Chief Rocket Engineer, Slava Kazbek. He assumed the other men, many in uniform, were Communist Party leaders or possibly KGB.

Noticed by Slava, Viktor walked over and took the available seat next to the deputy. Slava flashed a concerned look before turning his attention back to the marshal.

The sound of a fist pounding the table grabbed Viktor’s attention. The chief marshal angrily called out to no one in particular, “This is unacceptable to suggest we could be losing to the Americans. I do not care about technical issues. These are only excuses on why we cannot be first to the moon. I only care about results.” The marshal slowly looked over the room, anger in his eyes.

This was the first time Viktor had heard that the Soviet Union could be losing its race with the Americans, surprising him. The space agency was basically a military operation, and failing to beat the Americans would be a step closer to losing the Cold War. He nudged Slava to see if he agreed with the statement. The deputy didn’t budge. Though Viktor had heard the United States had gotten a few minor victories lately with a space rendezvous and flying a jet pack, the Soviet Union was still the first on every other major feat. All his comrades he trained with were sure one of them would be the first man on the moon.

The chief marshal pointed to Slava. “Losing one man should not change the course of our success. Sergei Korolev’s death should never be used as an excuse for our failures. I don’t ever want to hear that again.”

Sergei’s death was a serious blow to the Soviet space program. The rocket engineer had been the mastermind behind most of the country’s successes. But even with the loss, most of the cosmonauts were still confident the space agency would overcome and win the race to the moon.

Slava gave a slight nod toward the chief marshal.

The room went quiet as everyone froze. Viktor made up his mind right then that he wasn’t going to open his mouth unless he was called upon, and even then, he wondered if he had the guts. These men had the power to destroy him. He nervously wiped his sweaty palms on his pant legs, still wondering why he was in the high-level meeting.

A stocky man in a coat and tie broke the silence. “Sir, we have learned the United States is having stability problems with their F-1 engines.”

The marshal narrowed his eyes at the little man, whom Viktor assumed was a KGB agent. “Excellent.”

The agent took in a deep breath, looking to get the courage to carry on. “Sir, we can easily solve this problem. Possibly we offer a fix in exchange for the Americans signing the UN treaty stating the moon cannot be claimed by any country that lands on it.”

The marshal laughed. “Why do we care if they sign that treaty since everyone in this room feels we will win? They should be pressuring us to sign.”

Viktor surreptitiously looked around and could tell by some of the men’s faces they did not all agree with that assessment. But none spoke up.

The KGB agent tilted his head down slightly. “Sir, I am only suggesting we cover our bets.”

“Cover our bets? You talk like they are going to win.” The chief marshal put his hands on the table and leaned toward the agent. “Has the KGB gone behind my back and given any indication to the Americans we are interested in signing such a treaty?”

That statement vouched for the idea that the man was involved with the KGB. Without looking up, the agent slowly shook his head, giving Viktor the impression the man wasn’t telling the truth.

The marshal leaned farther over the table and said, “Well we are already covering our bets, by having two different rockets built. If the N1 rocket fails, the Proton will fly the mission to the moon.”

“Yes, sir, but that approach has also split our resources, putting both rockets behind schedule,” said the KGB agent as he slowly raised his head. “Though I agree with your strategy and am confident we will win, I am suggesting we take advantage of America’s setback. We have the expertise to easily solve their engine problem. Maybe we secretly offer a fix in exchange for lunar samples from their first landing. Regardless of which country lands first, this ensures we get a wide sample of lunar material, allowing our scientists to study fusion using Helium 3 from the moon. Sir, you have wanted a new science spectacular, and developing a cheap power source would do just that. The fusion of the world could be controlled by the Soviet Union.”

The marshal sat down in his chair. “So you are saying we give them our technology. Basically help them get to the moon, and possibly beat us?”

Viktor was starting to understand why he was called to the meeting. He was aware of a similar fix that was implemented on the N1 rocket engines.

The agent straightened up and spoke in a surprisingly stronger tone. “Sir, I am not suggesting we give them our technology. I recommend we only give them the parts. We keep the science on how they are designed and manufactured a secret. This deal will allow us to get lunar material from their landing sites along with ours, providing for a wider range of samples to better understand the moon’s makeup and determine the best location where to mine Helium 3.”

“So the Saturn V engine parts are similar to ours?”

“Yes, sir. Sir, the Americans will solve their engine problem with or without us. But this problem may be preventing them from meeting their deadline of putting a man on the moon by the end of the decade. Because of this, they may be interested in making a deal now. I say let’s take advantage of this situation so it benefits us. This could guarantee we get a sufficient amount of lunar material, regardless if we reach the moon or not.”

“If I agree to this, I say we request samples from at least two missions.”

The agent nodded. “Yes, sir. That would be smart.”

The chief marshal started tapping the table with his fingers as he raised an eyebrow at the man. “Would you suggest we sign that treaty?”

The man dropped his head again and timidly answered, “Yes, sir.”

The marshal’s face started to get red with anger. He obviously felt signing such a treaty would be accepting defeat. He looked out over the table. “Who else agrees we should sign that treaty?”

Viktor was surprised to see a few hands rise. Slava wasn’t one of them, and of all the men around the table, the deputy would know best what their chances were to beat the Americans. Viktor wondered if Slava was only keeping his hand down for fear he could be replaced if he raised his.

The marshal shook his head in disgust. He turned back to the agent. “Who would oversee this operation?”

“I would, sir.”

“I would want this kept secret. Who would be your technical contact?”

The man turned and pointed to Viktor. “Viktor Alexandrov will be our inside man.”

Viktor sat stunned, not moving.

ANNE AND TOM were next door at the Grants’ for a fun night of cards. Tom took a big swig of his beer as the ladies sauntered into the kitchen to prepare dinner.

David Grant leaned over. “Just a little warning, my friend. I guarantee you Joan is telling Anne right now about the movie we saw last night.”

“What did you see?”

“Born Free.”

“Isn’t that about lions?”

“Yeah, I think it’s mainly about a lion cub. I’m not positive because I fell asleep. But as soon as the movie was over, Joan woke me from my comfortable slumber and started bugging me to get the kids a pet. She gave me a choice between a dog and a cat. I didn’t want either and suggested a fish. She laughed in my face. I think she would have gotten a lion cub if she could have it. I finally settled on the cat.”

Tom laughed. “Who wears the pants in this family?”

David’s tone turned defensive. “You saw Joan wearing a dress, so there’s your answer. I simply choose to be a supportive husband. You should try it sometime.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “Sure, David, whatever you say.”

A smirk appeared on David’s face before he took a swig of his beer. “Again, just be warned. Anne will probably ask you to go see that movie and afterwards, bam, she wants a pet. And we’ll see who wears the pants in your family.”

Tom shook his head as he grinned. He took a big gulp of his beer. “Buddy, there’s no question who wears the pants in my family.”

“Peter?”

Tom smiled at his pal. “Funny.”

Tom found David was just as ultra-competitive as any of their fellow astronauts. Ever since Tom flew in space, he had bragging rights over his friend. The two joined NASA at the same time as part of the third group of astronauts. Tom was the first in their group to be assigned a space mission. Though Tom meant his jabs in good fun, David constantly reminded Tom the real prize was a trip to the moon. David still maintained he would beat Tom to the promised land. Tom was now thinking his friend just might do it after his meeting with Dick. Though David was disappointed to hear Tom had been grounded, it still didn’t stop his friend from gloating. David was back in front to reach the grand prize.

The two had become close friends soon after joining NASA. The former Air Force pilots instantly hit it off during their training. David was the one astronaut Tom felt he could trust in the cutthroat business of always trying to one up the other. Once their wives were introduced, the couples found they had a lot in common and enjoyed spending time together. When it was time to look for a house, it was decided to get lots next to each other. They found the perfect location in the newer development of Nassau Bay. Once both homes were built and the families had moved in, Anne and Joan quickly became the best of friends. Because of their husbands’ busy schedules, the two ladies came up with the idea of playing cards the first Saturday night of every month. Tom liked partying with the couple, and having a set date ensured the four would do their best to make the night work.

Tom looked out the window into the backyard. He had seen a backhoe in the yard behind David’s house earlier in the week. “So is your backyard neighbor building a pool?”

“I wish. Nope, he’s putting in a bomb shelter. When I saw the hole being dug, I thought the same thing. But when I asked, he said he was building a concrete bunker because of those damn Commies. He said I should do the same.” David took the last sip of his beer and then slammed the bottle down. “I’m thinking, Why do I have to build one? I’ll just bring my family over to yours.”

Tom chuckled. “I know another family doing the same thing. The father plans on burying an old school bus in his backyard.”

David tipped his head forward. “It’s all scary stuff; living in this nuclear age. If our president or the Soviets’ gets an itchy finger, we’re all dead.”

“Yeah, and I doubt sitting in a bus underground will do much good in an atomic war.”

David started to get up. “We just have to beat those Commies to the moon. We do that, and we’ll rule the world. Can I get you another beer?”

Tom wasn’t convinced winning the space race would solve all their problems. “Yes, please.”

TOM WAS IN bed with a nice buzz, ready to fall asleep. He leaned over to give his wife a kiss goodnight. Before their lips touched, his wife asked, “Honey, is it okay if we go see Born Free tomorrow?”

Tom simply smiled. “Sure.”

6

NOT RIGHT

1967

The bubble top canopy of the NASA T-38 supersonic jet offered little resistance to the blinding morning sun shining directly into Tom’s eyes as he sat in the slightly elevated backseat. Even with his sun visor down, the rookie’s helmet in front of him was a colorless silhouette. The two were zooming at well over Mach 1 at the 42,000-foot level on their way to the Michoud Assembly Facility in New Orleans. For the last year after being grounded by Dick, Tom had been restricted from piloting any jet on his own. Just when he felt he might be reinstated, the terrible Apollo 1 fire occurred, killing three brave astronauts. After the horrible tragedy, much of the program’s focus was directed to determining the cause of the accident and coming up with the right fix. Everything else was basically put on hold, including the status of astronauts. Tom swallowed his pride and accepted the continued punishment, often flying with rookie astronauts with far fewer flight hours than he. The space veteran felt like a child being escorted to school by his mother.

Tom adjusted his oxygen mask as he craned his neck to peer out over the side of the canopy. As expected, storm clouds were brewing below. Before takeoff, the tower had informed them bad weather would be welcoming them to New Orleans. With low visibility expected when they approached the airport, the rookie flying them would be forced to rely only on his instruments. For any NASA astronaut with military flight training, the landing should be a piece of cake, but Tom worried if it would be for this escort.

Chris Riddick was a former Navy man who joined NASA as part of the fifth group of astronauts. This was the first time for Tom to fly with Chris, whom he barely knew. Tom relinquished the front pilot seat after Chris stressed he needed the flying time to meet his quota for the month. Tom was fine with giving up the controls since he had flown the route practically every day over the last three weeks reporting to his new assignment, overseeing the Saturn V first stage booster. But ever since take off, Chris’s flying had made Tom nervous. The Navy man was too conservative at the controls. The twin-engine supersonic trainer, nicknamed the white rocket, was designed to be flown fast and aggressive, not timid. The plane’s jaw-dropping lines, with its small wings, made it one of the prettiest planes flying. However, her beauty came at a price. Those tiny wings offered little forgiveness if the plane was flown too slowly. If her air speed dipped below 270 miles per hour, the plane would literally fall out of the sky.

Prior to takeoff, Chris had arrogantly bragged about his flying background, trying to impress Tom. He politely listened, even asking questions, but only the man’s piloting would convince Tom. After thirty minutes in the air, Tom wasn’t buying what the man was selling. Chris simply wasn’t as good a pilot as he thought he was. Tom elected to keep this to himself. His eyes would definitely be glued to the instruments during landing, ready to take control if necessary.

Chris’s voice came in loud over Tom’s headset. “Of all the planes I’ve flown, and as I told you I’ve flown many, I’ve never experienced one with such a loose stick. She’s dangerous.”

Tom rolled his eyes, thinking Riddick was dangerous. Any good pilot knew that no plane was perfect, just like a woman. One simply learned the aircraft’s minor idiosyncrasies and adapted his flying skills accordingly. Each one of the T-38s in the NASA family had her own little quirk.

Tom had sat idle long enough while the rudder pedals moved underneath his feet, and the control stick rotated around between his legs. It was time for him to take control. “I’ve got the stick.”

Chris retorted in a surprised tone, “Roger that.”

Tom jiggled the control slightly, and, as expected, there was no movement of the plane. Then he jammed the stick far right and the supersonic trainer shot into a fast roll. Keeping his eyes on the false horizon he did two full rotations before stopping the spin perfectly back at level flight. He then jammed the stick left, doing a single snap roll. “She seems fine to me. You’ve got the stick.”

“Roger.”

Tom felt the stick moving, indicating that Chris had the plane. “You’ll find all of our jets have their own personality. I’m sure it was the same when you flew in the Navy. We’ve even nicknamed some of them. My favorite is Ms. Monroe because she keeps me on my toes. After awhile, you’ll learn each one and know how to get the most out of her.”

Chris eventually moved on to the subject of Tom’s flight in space, quizzing him on all the particulars. Fortunately, the flight to New Orleans was short and they were soon entering the dirty clouds for their landing, quieting Chris as he focused on his instruments.

It wasn’t long before the slim T-38 jet was being bounced around in the nasty weather.

Chris checked in with the tower to inform them of their position. “Centennial Tower, NASA nine one four, ten miles northwest at 4,200, request clearance.”

“Roger, nine one four, proceed IFR to runway two five left.”

“Roger, Centennial, runway two five left.”

Riddick put the plane into a careful turn, bleeding off their air speed as he set up for their approach. With zero visibility outside their canopy, Tom’s eyes were glued to the instruments. He had only stalled a T-38 once and fortunately he was high enough to apply power and regain speed. That incident taught him that the plane experienced a slight flutter just before it was about to stall. In the bad weather, he doubted he would feel that burble. He just had to stay ahead of the plane and be prepared for the unexpected.

They were set to break through the clouds around 250 feet. Tom was convinced they were out of position for a safe landing. Confident they were still in a manageable situation, he kept this to himself. He wanted to see how the rookie would handle their predicament when they emerged from the soup. If Chris was as good a pilot as he claimed, he would realize his mistake and inform the tower of a missed approach, pulling up on the stick to try the maneuver again.

At 200 feet they finally punched out of the clouds into the hard driving rain. As Tom suspected, they were way past the outer beacon. It was obvious they were going to overshoot the runway. Tom was waiting for Chris to give up the attempt and radio the tower of a missed approach. The pelting rain made it tough for Tom to see the runway in front of them. Feeling the rookie was taking too long to make up his mind, Tom decided to suggest a fly-by over the radio so Chris could fly around the airport and retry the landing. As he prepared to talk, he was thrown hard against his belt straps as the plane darted into a sudden strong left bank turn.

What the hell? Tom’s heart skipped a beat knowing Chris had just turned the plane right toward a seventy-foot water tower.

He grabbed the stick, breaking protocol. “I have the stick!”

Tom felt resistance at first, indicating Riddick wasn’t giving up control. Tom manhandled both the stick and pedals, overpowering the younger pilot. The weather was preventing him from seeing the water tower, but he knew it was coming. Their air speed of 230 miles per hour was dangerously low, causing their plane to lose altitude. Because of those tiny wings, he couldn’t yet pull up on the stick and light the afterburner. The high-performance jet needed to be flying at least 270 miles per hour to get lift. He had to make a snap decision-fly over or around the dangerous obstacle. His best chance was to go over. He retracted the landing gear before pointing the nose slightly down to gain the required speed, putting them in even more danger. He took his eye off the air speed indicator for a quick peek out the canopy in front of him. A large, ghostly gray figure appeared, fast approaching through the muck. He did a swift glance down at his altimeter and saw they had dropped to 40 feet. Their air speed had increased to 265 miles per hour. Close enough. He pulled back on the stick as hard as he could before kicking in the afterburner, hoping for the best.

After a few tense moments with those powerful engines howling, it became obvious they had cleared the massive structure. Tom quickly unhooked his oxygen mask as he continued to gasp for air. After a few more calming puffs, he radioed in. “Centennial, nine one four missed approach.”

“Roger, nine one four. Proceed to 1,000.”

Looking out the side of the canopy, Tom peered back in the direction of the water tower. He could only make out the flashing beacon on top of the giant. He exhaled a mouthful of air, thanking God as he turned back toward the control panel.

Chris broke the tension with anger in his voice. “Why did you take the stick? I had everything under control. I was going to do a visual circling approach.”

Tom was shocked the rookie had no idea what had just happened. “And you would have gotten us killed. Did you know you were flying right toward a seventy-foot water tower?”

Silence reigned as the helmet in front of Tom turned. Chris was looking out the window down toward the tower. A tentative voice answered, “Oh. No.”

Tom did his best to keep his cool. “You need to do your homework and know the airfield before you try pulling some crazy stunt like that.”

“Sorry, my mistake.”

“Yeah, almost a deadly one.”

A long pause stretched. In a concerned voice, Chris asked, “Tom, you’re not going to report this, are you?”

Tom knew he should, but it would affect the young astronaut’s career. He decided to keep the incident to himself, but he would inform Dick the rookie needed work. “No, this will stay between us.”

WITH HIS HANDS deep in the pockets of the NASA-issued lab coat, Tom casually strolled across the meticulously clean shop floor of the Michoud Assembly Facility. The massive manufacturing area was eerily quiet, practically empty of workers. It was 8:30 p.m., and most of the Marshall Space Flight Center employees stationed from Huntsville, Alabama, had clocked out for the day. He was happy to finally be able to stretch out his legs after being trapped in a six-hour meeting. He had time to kill while waiting for his ride to the local hotel. The Marshall manager, stuck with the chore of driving him, needed to wrap up some pressing work at his desk first.

Tom had been chosen to be the lone NASA representative to attend an early Friday morning meeting the next day. As much as he tried to get out of it and get home, the NASA engineers rallied together and elected him. Tom suspected it was because he had a T-38 at his disposal, while the engineers had to fly commercial. Of course after the long week, the engineers were ready to get back to Houston and their families.

As usual, Tom had packed a day’s worth of clothing just in case such a situation arose. Anne was aware there was always a possibility he might have to stay the night when away on business, and she would have to handle his one nightly chore, walking their one-year-old beagle, Dino.

Tom figured he would take advantage of the waiting time and inspect a piping issue vigorously discussed in one of the day’s meetings. The NASA engineers questioned whether the propellant lines that ran down from the first stage tanks into the F-1 engines were to spec. Since NASA was footing the bill for these babies, they had every right to query the Marshall engineers on the assembly, and as one of NASA’s senior representatives, Tom had free rein to venture wherever he pleased on the shop floor.

Tom walked toward the west end of the building, headed to the three colossal first stage boosters resting sideways on the shop floor. The Saturn V rocket was made up of three different stages, each one with its own engines and fuel. The first stage was the mightiest and biggest of them all: 140 feet tall and 33 feet wide. Its job was to lift the 3,250-ton rocket off the ground and propel it to over 6,000 mph some 40 miles high before the workhorse was discarded.

Each one of those mammoth bottom sections that Tom approached were in different phases of development. The first two were close to completion, each slated for an unmanned test launch. As he passed behind the giants, he looked up at the five huge F-1 engines showing, organized like the five dots on a single die. Two were on the bottom, one in the center, and two high above. Each engine had a red protective shroud covering its outlet. If the protective cover was removed, Tom could step inside the flared out nozzle with outstretched arms and still not touch any part of it with his hands. The machines were that big. They were the most powerful liquid-fueled engines ever built. These engineering marvels were designed to operate for only two and a half minutes following launch. After that short firing time, the engines would shut down just before the massive first stage structure would be released from the rocket, falling to the Atlantic Ocean to be swallowed up and never seen again.

His eyes feasted on the third one of these monsters. It had scaffolding surrounding it. This first stage was labeled S-1C-3, designated for the first manned flight. A pang of jealously ran through him wondering who would be launched by the booster, knowing the lucky sons of guns would probably be destined for the moon. He was convinced it wouldn’t be him.

Much of the debate on the piping issue had to do with fluid dynamics and heat transfer, causing Tom to dig up his old college engineering knowledge just to hang with the discussion. The engineers were concerned the lines were not long enough and too close to the other components. Tom hiked up the metal scaffolding stairs to get a firsthand look, the cold silence broken only by his brisk footsteps. As he turned to head up the second flight of stairs, he noticed the plumbing was already lying on tarps next to each engine on the metal, grated landing. Once he reached the level platform between the two engines, he turned toward the engine to his right. The missing pipes created a small opening within a cluster of plumbing, allowing him to get an even better view of all the components inside. When he reached the engine, he carefully slipped his head in, before wriggling his upper body like a snake around obstacles. The inside was dimly lit by the building’s ceiling lights, sending streaks of light penetrating through the engine’s small gaps. After his eyes adjusted, he was able to see fairly well inside. The internals sparkled with shiny new parts and piping, like the engine of a new car on a showroom floor.

As he studied the connections, he could tell some of the needed changes had already been made. He casually moved his head around, studying the rest of the engine, curious about its makeup. He flinched at an odd sight. A metal part showed streaks of grinding marks, which stood out among the perfection within the engine. He repositioned himself to get a better look, eventually pressing his forehead up against a cold metal pipe. As he studied the marks, it appeared a partial stamped letter had not been completely ground out, indicating that someone had been trying to erase a part number or something. He exited cautiously and straightened up, eyeing the engine. He rubbed the back of his neck. Something didn’t seem right. If it was a part number, why was it removed? Certainly the engine manufacturer in California would expect NASA to question why such an anomaly existed within the pristine engine. He was curious if the issue had already been addressed.

Tom turned toward the other engine across the scaffold landing, curious if the same grinding marks were inside it. As he navigated his way over he saw a closed red tool box lying on the tarp next to the removed piping. Opening it, he found what he was looking for; a flashlight. With determination he snatched it, turned it on and worked his head into the other engine, trying to maneuver his body into the same position as before. When he brought the flashlight over and shone it on the part, he was shocked to see cryptic lettering of a kind he had never seen before. This was definitely not a part number he was familiar with. He steadied the light as he focused in, trying to come up with a clue about what he was looking at. He shook his head. He was stumped. The markings must be a secret code of some sort, which was completely out of character for NASA. He wondered if this stamped marking should have been ground out too, and either it was missed or it hadn’t been done yet. Questioning if the same marks were on the engines above, he climbed up the stairs to check them out. Unfortunately, none of the three had the piping removed, preventing him from inspecting inside. With the building practically empty, he would have to wait until the next day to get answers. Right after his morning meeting he would track down the floor manager and see what he could find out about the mystery.

SITTING IN A small conference room within the confines of the cosmonaut training center, Viktor Alexandrov was puzzled as to why he had just been pulled from an exercise. Dressed in his jumpsuit, Viktor sat across from the man he suspected was a KGB agent. He had not seen the man since the Kremlin meeting over a year ago.

Viktor presumed this visit had something to do with the production of the secret engine combustion chamber attachments he was ordered to oversee. Two intense months struggling to match the part with the specifications of NASA’s F-1 engine using the NK-15 design was a major challenge for all involved. But the parts were finished on time, and as far as Viktor knew, had been secretly smuggled out of the country, destined to solve America’s engine problem. Unfortunately, the time-consuming assignment caused Viktor to miss out on critical cosmonaut training, essentially stripping him of any chance at an early moon flight.

The man took off his glasses. “You probably wonder why you are here.”

Viktor didn’t know how to address the man since they were never introduced. If he was KGB, Viktor would leave it up to the agent to offer his name. Straightening up in his chair, Viktor answered, “Yes, sir.”

The agent leaned over. “I am here to confirm that you hid incriminating evidence somewhere on the parts sent to the United States.”

“Yes, sir. The descriptive information was placed in a hidden but secure area using invisible paint as requested. We also included a cryptic serial number stamped on the part in an obvious location that probably would be found.”

“Good. I’m sure they will erase that one.”

Viktor was curious why he was being quizzed, speculating it was somehow related to the recent failure of the Soyuz 1 that had killed a friend. The accident struck all the cosmonauts hard, and with the recent problems being experienced with the N1 rocket, some were questioning if the moon missions would ever happen. He assumed Party leaders were probably feeling the same way and wanted to verify evidence existed so they could insinuate the parts were stolen if the Americans did not live up to their end of the bargain, passing over lunar material. “Why do you ask?”

The agent lifted an eyebrow and said in a stern voice, “That is classified information.” The man stood up unexpectedly, signaling that the meeting was over. He extended his hand. “I want you to know I will be giving a recommendation to your superiors. You did an invaluable service for your country.”

Viktor stood and shook the man’s hand, surprised that was all he was questioned on. “Thank you, sir.”

7

BACK OFF

Bending at the waist, Tom was trying to stretch out his back after sleeping on a rock-hard bed the night before. The Michoud folks always put the NASA visitors up in the same dumpy old motel, the only place to stay within thirty miles of the facility. When Tom informed Anne he wasn’t coming home, she jokingly asked if he planned on enjoying the night life. What night life? She knew how boring the place was. He simply answered that he might have a couple of beers with some squirrels before hitting the sack.

The Director of Assembly turned to Tom. “Back problems?”

Tom straightened up. “I’m fine.”

Both Tom and the director stood behind a Marshall engineer who had half his body extended inside the F-1 engine, looking for the stamped lettering. Tom had alerted the shop floor manager about his findings after the morning meeting. The busy manager had no idea what Tom was talking about and had directed him to the Director of Assembly, who seemed interested.

The engineer called out, “I don’t see it.”

Tom positioned himself so he could help guide the young man. “Do you see the main fuel valve?”

The engineer’s legs shifted slightly. “Yeah, I see that.”

“Look to the right, underneath the HP oxidizer duct. In fact, just place your forehead up against that duct and you should see it right in front of you.”

After some further movements, the engineer’s voice shot up. “Oh, I see it. Wow, that’s odd.”

After both men had inspected both engines, Tom asked, “So what do you think it is?”

The director’s voice was direct. “It’s something I’ve never seen before, and I doubt anyone with Marshall or any of the contractors have ever seen it.” The man took off his glasses and locked eyes on Tom. “You need to take this up with the Canoga Park folks. This happened on their end.”

The engineer, standing behind the director, nodded in agreement as he adjusted his tie.

Tom wasn’t surprised he was being pointed toward the engine’s manufacturer, but he hoped someone here could have shed some light on the mystery. He figured since the piping covered the part, no one at the plant had ever seen the markings. Since neither man seemed too concerned with the findings, Tom doubted either one of them would do anything with the information. Marshall was on a tight schedule to get the stages completed. The last thing they needed was odd etchings holding up production.

Earlier Tom had snagged one of the NASA-issued Polaroid cameras in hopes of getting some photos. He had a meeting scheduled later that day with Dick and wanted to show the pictures to get his take. “Do either of you mind if I take pictures of the markings?”

The director spoke frankly as he headed down the stairs, “Knock yourself out.”

“HAVE A SEAT, Tom.”

Dick had a peculiar look on his face as Tom entered the office, possibly a sign good news was coming. He confidently took a seat across from his boss.

Leaning forward, Dick put both arms on his desk. “So I have some good news.”

Tom straightened up. “Oh?”

“You are no longer grounded, so no more escorts when flying.”

Happy to hear the news, Tom anticipated Dick was going to follow that up with information on his next crew assignment. Tom waited a beat before answering, “That’s great, because some of those guys made me nervous.”

His boss raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

Tom didn’t want to get into it. He cared more about his next assignment. “Actually just one, Chris Riddick.”

“Did anything happen?”

Though Tom should have spoken up, he elected to keep his promise. “No. Just be aware he might need more flight training.”

“Okay, duly noted.”

Tom couldn’t contain himself. “So, will I be assigned a mission now that I’m cleared?”

Dick stared at Tom, as if contemplating the idea. “Right now, I’m going to hold off on that. Besides, most of the assignments have been given out. I’ll consider it when new ones become available.”

Tom slumped back in the chair at the news. At least he was back in the game.

“So how is everything going in New Orleans?”

Slightly dejected, Tom reached into his shirt pocket for the snapshots. He had already sorted through them, picking out the best ones for Dick. He left the remaining ones in his briefcase. “I thought you might be interested in seeing these photos.” Tom leaned over, plopping them on the desk.

Dick tilted an eyebrow as he took the pictures. “What are these?”

“I was investigating plumbing issues inside the F-1 engines, and while looking, I came across these odd markings. I checked with the Marshall folks, but no one had any idea what the markings were. In fact, they had never seen them before.”

Dick went through them slowly, pausing at one, a bewildered look on his face. “One of these shows only grinding marks.”

“Yeah, one engine had that in the same location as the mysterious lettering I found in the other engine. It’s as if the markings were supposed to have been ground out.”

Dick raised his eyes over the picture. “Was Marshall going to have this investigated?”

“I don’t think so. They’re on a tight schedule and I doubt they’ll do anything with the information. They directed me to the engine manufacturer.”

Dick shot him a puzzled look before shuffling through the photos again. “These markings do look strange and out of place. I’ll pass this on and see what I can find out.”

“Great, please let me know what you hear.”

Dick set the pictures down. “Will do. There’s one more thing. Tomorrow night is the Governor’s Ball in Austin and I would like you there. I’ve requested other astronauts to attend as well.”

Tom was hoping to have a relaxing weekend with the family. “Can I bring Anne?”

“Absolutely. In fact, I’ll have a room booked for you for the night. It’s a first-class hotel, so it should be a nice little getaway.”

“That would be great, especially after dealing with the shoddy accommodations in New Orleans.”

Dick leaned back in his chair, his voice staying steady. “They don’t take good care of you in Louisiana? Haven’t you been getting out and enjoying the nightlife?”

Tom leaned forward, placing both hands on the desk. “Are you serious? There’s never time for any nightlife fun, just dinner and bed. They usually put me in some rundown motel about a mile from the plant. The closest nice hotel is over thirty minutes away.”

“I’m sure the accommodations aren’t that bad.”

“Yeah, if you consider knobs falling off the television as being nice.”

Dick chuckled as he stood up. “Sounds like you don’t have time to watch TV anyway.”

Assuming Dick had somewhere to go, Tom got up. “Did you see the news last night?”

“Nope, I didn’t get out of here until after ten. Why?”

Both men walked toward the doorway before Tom stopped shy of the exit. “The North Vietnamese were showcasing a POW, some type of propaganda ploy. What was amazing was the POW used his eyes to blink out torture in Morse code while answering questions.”

“Really? Good for him. That’s some hero.”

“I agree. Men like that are the real heroes of this country, more so than us astronauts.”

Dick put his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Tom, you have to remember we are in a Cold War with the Soviets, and those bastards are backing the North Vietnamese. So in a way, we’re all fighting the same fight. If we’re successful in beating the Soviets to the moon, we’ll have a great chance to win the Cold War and wipe out Communism. Men like you, risking your lives to help achieve that goal, are heroes too.”

Tom wasn’t so sure. With a slight smile, he turned to walk out.

Dick gave Tom’s back a solid pat. “I just need to know orders will be followed.”

Tom trudged down the hallway as he called out, “Duly noted, boss.”

DRESSED IN HIS spiffy black tuxedo, Tom held Anne’s hand as they maneuvered through the maze of elegantly decorated tables in the large hall. The room was primed for the star-studded event, adorned with hanging chandeliers and large, impressive, replica Roman columns. The VIP guests were given the opportunity to enter early to get desirable seats. Tom had attended a few Governors’ Balls in the past and always enjoyed the special attention he received for being an astronaut. But this time around, he wanted to sit somewhere in the back and out of the limelight. He already had his fill of the celebrity life. His hope was to enjoy a nice evening with Anne. As he scanned the large auditorium, he noticed the round tables were numbered. Curious if that meant he was supposed to sit at a particular one, he checked out a table they passed. Other than the meticulously placed dinnerware and wine glasses, there was no indication a specific VIP should be seated there. Since no one had informed him he was assigned a table, he continued his search for a secluded spot way in the back.

Arriving at a nice, isolated table, Tom picked out two of the best seats facing the front of the hall. Being a gentleman, he pulled out one of the chairs for his wife. Anne adjusted her long, formal black dress before taking a seat. Inhaling her sensually scented perfume, Tom bent down and proudly gave her a romantic kiss on the neck. He let his lips travel up to her ear before whispering, “You look beautiful.”

She looked up with love in her eyes. She straightened his bow tie. “Aw, thanks. You look mighty handsome yourself.”

He lifted his hands and flashed a brash grin. “That’s all that matters.” His mouth suddenly felt dry. He was ready for a drink. He looked around for the nearest bar and found one behind them. “I’m going to get us a couple of drinks. What would you like?”

Anne curled in her lower lip. “Mmm, how about a glass of champagne?”

Tom stood up. “Got it. I’ll be right back.”

After getting the drinks, Tom turned to see that the hall was filling up with guests. As he returned to the table he saw that another couple had already positioned themselves next to Anne. Approaching from behind, Tom was unable to determine who they were. The man next to Anne was leaning dangerously close to her, apparently chatting away. The lady on his other side was looking off in another direction, smoking a cigarette, not a part of the conversation. Once Tom was close he heard the man’s voice and instantly recognized the cocky tone; Chris Riddick, who appeared to be flirting with Anne. Though Tom trusted his wife one hundred percent, he still hated seeing any man, particularly Riddick, hitting on her. Damn, I don’t want this guy next to her.

Feeling it was his prerogative to be rude, Tom aggressively extended the hand holding Anne’s drink right in front of Chris’s face, cutting him off midsentence. “Here’s your drink, honey.” Tom purposely pushed Chris’s arm aside.

Looking up, the brash grin on Chris’s face grew wider. “Oh, hey, Tom. Is this your beautiful wife?”

Setting his free hand on Anne’s shoulder, Tom steadied himself, his voice growing stronger. “She is.” Looking down at the rookie, Tom’s eyes flashed a silent threat. So back off!

The vaguely pretty lady next to Chris looked over with a shy smile. Chris gave no indication he was going to introduce her. After Anne took her drink, Tom politely extended his hand in the direction of the woman. “Hello, I’m Tom Novak.”

Setting her cigarette down in an ashtray, she timidly took his hand. She said in a soft voice, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tom. I’m Sandy Riddick.”

Chris looked back at his wife as he pointed toward Tom. “This is the veteran astronaut I told you about, the one I flew to New Orleans.”

The arrogance flowing from the man made Tom cringe. Yeah, the one you almost killed. He took a deep breath as he simply smiled.

The friendly gesture would be to sit next to Sandy so the couples could get to know each other, but Tom wasn’t interested. Besides, he wasn’t comfortable leaving Anne alone with Chris. The rookie came across as a shark circling in for the kill. Instead, Tom sat down in his original chair. He was pleased when Anne turned and put a reassuring hand on his leg. With her head blocking Chris, Tom rolled his eyes. Before he could get her reaction, he felt a sudden tap on his shoulder. A waiter was standing next to him.

“Excuse me, Mr. Novak, but you’re supposed to be seated at the governor’s table up front.”

Tom turned to his wife, lifting both hands in a gesture of helplessness. He looked back at the waiter. “Thank you, we’ll be there in a minute.”

“Yes, sir.”

Though Tom wasn’t too excited about being seated at the head table, it was the perfect excuse to get away from Chris. He gave the signal to Anne it was time to go. As they got up, Tom turned to Chris and gave the rookie a parting dig. “I guess I have to go sit with the governor.”

Chris stood up and smiled. “The advantages of being a space hero.”

Before Tom could hustle his wife along, Chris leaned over and gave Anne a hug. The embrace seemed more than platonic. When Chris pulled back, his eyes were trained directly on Anne’s. “It was wonderful meeting you.”

Tom reached for Anne’s hand, breaking the trance. As he pulled Anne away, he noticed a glow about her face. After a few strides away from the table, Anne said in a chipper voice, “Chris is kind of cute.”

8

MOON MEN

Late on the Monday afternoon, Tom hustled down the narrow corridor toward the small conference room in Building 4 at the Manned Spacecraft Center. This was a meeting he didn’t want to be late for. As part of the management team, he knew that a big announcement was going to be made. He just didn’t know what it was or why his presence was requested. With only a select few astronauts invited, he wondered if he would be there as a manager or as an astronaut.

Approaching the conference door that was left cracked open, Tom heard a soft hum of chatter leaking out. He was able to tell through the small opening that the room was fairly packed. He first paused at the entrance to gather himself, then barged through the door wearing a confident smirk. A few astronauts looked over immediately and gave him a slight wave. Tom acknowledged the men as he strutted in. He made a quick assessment of who was present. All the astronauts were dressed in casual sport shirts and slacks as they intermingled in small groups around the conference table. There appeared to be about twenty of them, and all the top veterans were in attendance, including his former commander, Sam Cunningham. David Grant stood alone on the side of the room, leaning against a wall. Tom walked over to his friend.

“Hey, David.”

David unfolded his arms. “What’s up, buddy? Any idea what this is all about?”

Tom whispered as he angled in close to his friend, “All I know is there’ll be some big announcement.”

David looked over the crowd. “It looks like all the top pilots are here.”

With a cocky grin Tom said, “Meaning you and me?”

David smiled. “Yeah.”

The top pilots were there, and Tom considered himself one of them. It baffled him why Chris Riddick was also present. The rookie definitely wasn’t in the same class as the other men in the room.

Dick approached the end of the conference table and said forcefully, “Gentleman, there is no reason to take a seat. This’ll be brief.”

The crowd hushed as all turned toward their boss, giving him their full attention. Tom stood behind David, looking over his shoulder.

Dick got right to the point. “Gentlemen, the men who will be flying to the moon are in this room.”

Tom straightened up, eyes wide. Maybe he was getting an Apollo assignment. The new guys started rocking back on the balls of their feet, surprised by the news. Tom looked over in the direction of Sam and some of the other veteran Gemini commanders. They showed little reaction, probably because they always expected to get one of the Apollo seats. Tom would have had the same confidence if he hadn’t disappointed his boss.

After placing both hands on the conference table, Dick leaned forward. “Because many tough objectives must be met with earlier Apollo flights, there’s no way for me to predict which mission will attempt that first landing. But one thing is for certain.” Dick surveyed the crowd as he moved away from the table, putting both hands into his pants pockets. A suspenseful silence hung over the astronauts as they all angled toward their boss to catch his next words. “The man who will make that first footstep on the moon is here among us. He will go down in history as one of the greatest men of this century, written about in all the history books.”

That’s some heavy stuff. Tom had never considered the full impact of such a feat—that the man making that first step on the lunar surface would be remembered for all time. Everyone started looking around at each other. Tom could tell by the smug looks that several of the men felt it would be them. After the mistakes on his Gemini mission, Tom had no such illusions. He looked over at Sam, who flashed him a confident wink.

Dick allowed his words to sink in, then picked up a piece of paper. He explained he was going to read off the assignments for the first Apollo missions, calling out the prime crew followed by its backup team. Being on a backup crew meant you were officially in the rotation, and per Dick’s system, you would probably fly three missions later. Tom rubbed his hands together as he listened intently to the first set of names.

Though any assignment would be great, the first few missions would be in Earth’s orbit to test out the new equipment. Having already experienced an orbital space flight above his planet, Tom wanted to be a part of a moon mission. He was rooting for his name to be called out on one of the backup crews, hopefully in the commander slot. In that position, he would certainly rotate onto a moon flight. He let out a sigh of relief when he wasn’t named to the first prime crew.

As Dick prepared to announce the names of the backup crew for the first flight, Tom focused on his boss’s mouth, trying to get an early indication if the letter “T” was being formed. Tom was disappointed when his name wasn’t called, nor was it for any of the slots on the second mission. However, his friend lucked out, snagging the backup Lunar Module Pilot position. Tom gave a congratulatory pat on David’s back when his name was called. Landing that slot meant his friend had an excellent chance of rotating onto a mission destined for the moon, and as the LMP, David would walk on its surface.

Tom was getting frustrated when he wasn’t mentioned for the third mission. The fact that astronauts with fewer qualifications were getting those slots convinced him he wasn’t getting a seat. Only two flights remained.

With his hand out of sight, Tom crossed his fingers.

Dick read off, “Sam Cunningham is the commander for the first F mission.”

Tom perked up. He was convinced he and Sam worked well together, and Dick usually didn’t split up proven crews. Plus, F missions were going to the moon. Even though the flight wasn’t scheduled to land, Tom was convinced if all of the Apollo missions preceding the flight went as planned, the mission could be moved up to be the first attempted landing. His only concern was Dick wanted an experienced astronaut in the Command Module Pilot seat. Tom wanted to walk on the moon, not circle it alone while his crewmates had all the fun. So far, the last few prime crews had rookies in the LMP slots.

“Earl Brown is the CMP.”

Tom instantly had mixed feelings hearing that name. Tom was a better pilot than Earl. It would almost be a slap in the face if he was named the LMP. For a few fleeting seconds before Dick disclosed who it would be, Tom found his pride preventing him from rooting for his name, even though he would fulfill his dream of stepping on the lunar surface.

Dick’s voice was clear and precise as the sound of the first letter gave Tom the feeling he was going to be called out. At least I’ll beat David to the moon. He leaned forward, preparing to jab his friend in the back, signaling his minor victory for being put on a prime crew.

“Todd Hawkins is the LMP.”

Tom dropped his head, letting out a frustrated sigh. Damn. If he didn’t get paired up with Sam, he probably wasn’t getting a seat. He kept his eyes trained to the floor as the final crews were announced. His name was never called. He looked up with a stoic expression, making sure not to show any disappointment. At least Chris didn’t get put on a crew. Tom would hate to hear the arrogant guy bragging about his future mission.

Dick said the meeting was over and excused them all. A sudden buzz began in the room—men congratulating each other.

It was obvious David was trying to hide his excitement when he turned around. “Sorry, Tom.”

Tom put on a happy face as he stuck out his hand. “Hey, don’t worry about me. Congratulations to you. Looks like you’re on your way to walking on the moon.”

After shaking hands, Tom turned dejectedly toward the exit. David followed, putting a consoling hand on his shoulder. His friend said in an encouraging tone, “I guarantee you’ll get one of the next assignments, and I’ll bet you’ll be the commander.”

Tom could only hope his friend was right. Before Tom could answer, Dick called out, “Hey, Tom, can you please stay back? I need to talk to you.”

Stopping in his tracks, Tom turned toward his boss. “Of course.” Tom gave a quick nod to David as he left.

Once the room had cleared, the two men sat down at the conference table. Dick had a set of files in front of him. “First of all, I know you’re disappointed I didn’t call your name. I don’t want you to get discouraged. The assignments I read off today had already been approved by the time I cleared you. There’ll be more missions, and I’ll seriously consider you for one of those.”

Tom was feeling better, especially since Dick appeared to have gotten over his anger at Tom’s mistakes on the Gemini mission. Being on the management team and curious how his boss selected the crews, he felt comfortable asking, “So do you have some master plan on who will fly what mission?”

Dick seemed to contemplate whether he should divulge his system. He tapped his fingers a few times on the table. “It’s a lot harder than you think. No, I don’t have a master plan. I know that’s what most of the guys think. Bottom line, I consider every one of you eligible to fly. The trick is, some missions are more challenging than others. For the harder missions, I need the top guys. But as I start putting together crews, personalities come into play. Then I have to take into account what mission the backup crew will rotate into, and will it be a good fit. It all becomes a very complicated puzzle that is constantly being updated and modified, especially as the personnel change.”

Tom appreciated getting insight on the process. “Well, hopefully I get back to being a full-time astronaut soon so you can plug me in.”

Dick straightened up. “Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’m taking you out of management.”

Tom wanted to jump for joy at that. “So no more flying around the country?”

“Well, not as a manager.”

“Great.”

Dick’s voice became intense. “One more thing. I was instructed we should stop asking questions on what you found earlier in the year back at Michoud.”

Tom cocked an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yes. Though I didn’t get any answers on what the strange markings were, it was conveyed to me that it was not a big deal. So just drop it.”

Perplexed by the request, Tom rubbed his hands along the side of his pants. Was this why he was being taken out of management? He answered cautiously, “Okay.”

With a piercing gaze, Dick leaned in. “Also, do you have any other pictures of that part? I need to have them all.”

Tom slowly fell back in his seat. That seemed like an odd question to ask, especially if the parts were no big deal. No one knew he had the extra photos, and he was positive he could keep them a secret. Though he was taking another risk of losing his shot to the moon, his gut told him to keep quiet about their existence. “Nope, those were all the pictures I took.”

“Good.”

THE WHITE HOUSE was quiet on a late Thursday afternoon as Lee Collins got the go-ahead to enter the Oval Office. The executive secretary assumed most of the White House personnel had left early to beat the November snowstorm predicted to hit shortly after sunset. Even though it meant Lee might get caught in the nasty weather, he waited, glad for the opportunity to pass on good news regarding the space race. The president had been dealing with congress over the devastating Apollo 1 fire for months and needed something positive regarding America’s space program. The successful launch of the first fully outfitted Saturn V unmanned moon rocket was exactly what the president would want to hear about.

After knocking lightly, Lee slowly poked his head into the office. “Good afternoon, sir.”

The president looked up from his paperwork. “Hey, Lee. What can I do for you?”

Lee took one small step. “Sir, I just stopped by to pass on some good news.”

As he leaned back in his chair, the president’s eyes relaxed. “I could use good news. What is it?”

“Apollo 4 was a success today. It just passed the all-up test with flying colors.”

After a brief hand clap, the president, now upbeat, said, “That is great to hear. Good job.” He leaned forward, putting his arms on his desk. “Sounds like the F-1 engines did their job. I guess our little treaty deal worked.”

The president had never been told the full details of the final arrangement made with the Soviets. Lee felt it best not to divulge that the deal also included NASA secretly passing over sacred lunar material from two future Apollo missions. If the transaction ever leaked out to the press, Lee would be the fall guy, not the president, preserving the good man’s legacy. The president was only told Moscow agreed to pass over the parts if the U.S. signed the moon treaty. “Yes, sir, it did.”

With a flash of joy, the president put both hands flat on his desk. “Now do you think we can beat the Soviets to the moon?”

“I think we have an excellent chance, sir. We are close to implementing all the command module design changes that where put in place because of the fire. Once final testing is done on the CM, we should be back on schedule. I think we just might make Kennedy’s deadline.”

“Good. Keep me abreast of any further news.” The president looked back down at his paperwork, this time with a big smile on his face.

“Yes, sir.” Lee proudly exited, glad he had chanced getting caught in the snowstorm in order to deliver the upbeat news.

9

TEMPTATION

1969

The Holiday Inn lounge was packed with locals and celebrating tourists visiting Cocoa Beach for the Apollo 10 launch, scheduled to happen later that weekend. After Tom had dinner with David and a few other astronauts, the group decided to check out the hotel bar, have a few nightcaps and listen to live music. Tom suspected they would probably get plastered and end up stumbling back to their rooms. It had been a tough week, and he was ready to completely unwind. Their only responsibility for the weekend was to hobnob with some VIPs and observe the launch, which they all could do with a hangover. Tom debated if he should call Anne before having too much to drink. Since it was already late on Friday night, he decided to hold off until the morning.

Earlier that day Tom and the other astronauts had flown to Cape Canaveral in T-38s. After landing, he was medically cleared to visit with his former commander, who would command Apollo 10, to wish him good luck. Sam was under quarantine in the crew quarters, and as expected, was as calm as ever. Tom saw that his friend bestowed no sign he would soon be strapped into the biggest and mightiest rocket ever built, destined for only the second trip ever to the moon. Sam even joked that his mission was just one big tease, since their objective was to get within eight miles of the lunar surface before turning around and coming back home. The mission Sam really wanted was the one he was certain Tom would get, one of the future Apollo moon landing flights. Tom appreciated his friend’s endorsement, though Tom still questioned his own chances.

It had been almost two years since Tom’s private meeting with Dick after the first Apollo crews were announced. Back then, his boss had promised he would be put on a future mission. That never happened and Tom had no idea why. Whenever he probed his boss, Dick always answered the same way, saying Tom would probably get on the next one. After missing out on the last assignment, Tom had finally had enough. The constant letdowns were too much to handle and he was going to quit. Before submitting his resignation, he discussed his decision with Anne, who immediately set him straight. She pointed out that the man she married would never give up. She still believed he was one of NASA’s finest.

Though it was tough seeing less-deserving astronauts get seats before him, Tom set his bruised ego aside and stuck it out, continuing to give his best effort for the space program. But he would quit on the spot if Chris Riddick got a seat before him, especially after the man’s divorce took him out of favor with Dick.

David nudged Tom’s arm, and said over the loud music, “Check out that blonde over there in the white go-go boots.”

Tom peered over the rim of his glass as he took a sip of his scotch. The sight blew him away. The twenty-something girl looked amazing as she sexily swayed her body to the mellow music, her head cocked backward with her eyes closed, lost in the song. She danced alone behind a group of women sitting at the bar who were oblivious to their dancing friend. This blonde beauty was dressed in a rainbow-colored, psychedelic mini-dress that clung tightly to her shapely body, her sleeves flaring out under her extended arms. A bright-colored headband scarf flowed perfectly through her blonde curls. Those shiny white boots traveled high up her bare legs to just below her knees. All the astronauts, including Tom, agreed with David’s assessment—this lady was hot.

David followed up his comment with enthusiasm. “That’s a girl I could have fun with.”

Though he’d said it in a joking way, Tom knew David was serious. Ever since he started getting press for being on a crew that would rotate onto a moon mission, David had changed. The whole stardom thing was going to his head, and he began messing around on Joan, which put Tom in a tough spot, trying to keep the secret from Anne.

David wasn’t the only astronaut having an affair. Many were. Astronauts were like rock stars whenever they visited a town, especially Cocoa Beach. The space town had become a big playground for the men. Many lobbied for an assignment in the area just so they could be free from home and enjoy the swinging nightlife. Some even had apartments with mistresses living in them. Dick allowed the indiscretions as long as the press never got wind of it. The veterans dubbed these ladies “Cape Cookies.” The temptation was tough to resist, even for Tom. He lusted after attractive women just as much as the next guy. But he never acted on the desire. He had too much to lose with Anne. The last thing he wanted was to mess up things with her.

Another astronaut chimed in, “How about that brunette in those hot pants sitting in front of the blonde?”

David adjusted his barstool to get a better look. “Nice. I think I could have fun with that one too.”

Tom thought it best to change the subject before the conversation got out of hand. Since he was the only one at the table who had visited with the Apollo 10 crew, he decided to relay the men’s mood. He piped up so all could hear. “Sam seemed pretty relaxed today. You would never know he’ll be firing off for the moon on Sunday.”

David took a big swig of beer before turning to his friend. “That’s Sam. I’ve never seen him nervous. He’s always so cool under pressure. Sometimes I wonder if he’s human. Did he have anything to say about the mission?”

Tom looked at his glass as he swirled its contents. “Yeah, he’s disappointed he has to paint a white line all the way to the moon so Apollo 11 can follow it and get all the glory. He said he just might surprise us all and land.”

All the men chuckled. “That would be hilarious, and it would shock the hell out of the top brass.”

Tom took a sip of his drink and set the glass on the wooden table. “It would shock the hell out of all of us. And what could management do?”

They all knew the lunar module lacked the needed fuel to permit a landing, but still a few chimed in. “Nothing.”

“Exactly.”

A man barged in between two of the men with his arms extended like a bird in flight, wrapping them around the men like he was greeting fraternity brothers. “What’s up, guys?” It was Chris Riddick.

One of Chris’s best buddies called out, “Hey, Chris, how ya doing, pal? Pull up a barstool and join us.”

Tom stayed planted on his seat while the other guys moved to make extra room.

“Thanks. I think I will.” Chris snagged an extra barstool from the adjoining table and made himself comfortable.

One of the men asked Chris, “Did you just fly in?”

“Yeah, I finally finished up my week in the barrel. Did I miss anything?”

Since Chris had not yet flown or been assigned a mission, he had to take his turn in the “barrel,” like all the other rookies, traveling the country to help promote NASA. The promotional trip usually included stops at local Rotary clubs and various luncheons where the astronaut would present a slide show followed by a discussion. Most of the men detested the week, but Chris seemed to enjoy showing off being an astronaut.

“Nope, we’re just checking out the ladies across the room.”

Chris’s neck shot up like a stork’s. “Which ones?”

David pointed out the women. “Over there at the bar.”

“Nice. So how come they’re not over here?”

Chris’s buddy chimed in. “We’re waiting for you to rope them in for us.”

Flashing a cocky grin, Chris jumped off his barstool. “I got you guys covered. Hold on.” He sauntered toward the ladies with a brash swagger.

All the guys turned to watch. One of the men shook his head and said, “That guy has no fear. He’ll do anything.”

Most of the astronauts bought into Chris’s shtick, but not Tom.

Ever since Chris officially divorced from Sandy last year, he became this swinging bachelor who most of the men envied. He had the freedom to attend astronaut functions with a different woman on his arm. Chris was especially admired by those astronauts who were cheating. They all wished they could get a divorce, but none of them dared, since no one knew what impact it would have on their career. Chris was their guinea pig, and they were all waiting to see what would happen. As long as Chris did not get a flight, it was doubtful any astronaut would come forward about any issues happening at home.

Soon Chris had escorted the ladies over to the table, where they easily settled in and mingled among the men. Tom stayed quiet as he nonchalantly checked each one out while sipping his drink. They were all pretty, but his eyes always ended up back on the blonde. She flashed him a coy grin when she caught him staring, causing him to quickly turn away, like a shy schoolboy.

Dominating the conversation, Chris was overplaying the astronaut card. He tried to wow the girls by implying most of the men at the table would probably walk on the moon someday.

Eyes widened at the comment, but not the blonde’s. She didn’t look impressed. Eventually she moved in closer to the table and spoke in an amused tone, “So have any of you boys been in outer space yet?”

A few of the men pointed toward Tom. “He has.”

With a playful look in her eyes, the blonde sensually circled the group toward him. Tom knew he was in trouble when he got a close up of her alluring cleavage. He had to force his eyes upward when she extended her hand.

“Hello, I’m Connie.”

No one seemed to be paying attention. So Tom reached for her small delicate hand and brought it to his lips. Her scent was intoxicating as he lightly kissed her soft skin. “Nice to meet you, Connie. I’m Tom.” He saw a twinkle in her eye. But there was something behind her smile. He couldn’t tell if it was mischief or that she was laughing on the inside at what he thought had been a suave move. Regardless, he enjoyed the attention. To have the prettiest girl in the bar focused on him was good for his ego, and all astronauts needed their ego stroked occasionally. Tom just had to stay in control. He didn’t want to do anything that could get him into trouble.

Connie set her small yellow purse down by his drink. “You’re pretty groovy, rocket man. So what was it like in outer space?”

He looked into her dark blue eyes and spoke in a playful whisper. “I guess you could say it was outta sight.”

She smiled, her cute dimples becoming more pronounced.

Tom was interrupted by a firm hand on his back. He turned to see Chris.

“Hey, Tom, how about you help me get a round of drinks from the bar?”

Not being a fan of Riddick, Tom preferred not to. He looked around to see if anyone was going to step up, but no one did. He had no choice. “Sure.”

As Chris checked with the table on what everyone wanted, Tom moved closer to Connie and asked, “Would you like a drink?”

She put her hand on his. “That would be groovy. I’ll have a champagne cocktail, please.”

He winked. “Got it. I’ll be right back.”

As he and Chris walked over to the bar, Chris’s voice had a righteous tone to it. “So, looks like you have a hot one.”

Tom spoke matter of factly. “Yes she is hot. But as you know, I’m happily married. Nothing’s going to happen.”

Chris mashed his lips together. “Of course.”

“No, really, I’m just enjoying her company.”

Chris looked back at Connie. “I guess it doesn’t hurt she looks like a Playboy bunny.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Tom said with a smirk.

Chris carelessly bumped into a barrel-chested man, causing him to spill his beer.

The brute, standing well over six feet tall with Herculean arms bulging out of his tight tee-shirt, turned with an enraged look. “Watch where you’re going, asshole.”

This was the wrong guy to knock, and his buddy was an even more intimidating character. Tom couldn’t believe it as Chris practically ignored the man, simply throwing up his hand as he kept walking. “Hey, it was an accident. Get over it.”

Tom leaned over to Chris and whispered, “Maybe you should apologize to the guy.”

Chris shook his head as he continued toward the bar. “I barely touched him. He’s fine.”

After they reached the bar, Tom turned around and saw the brutes approaching, and they didn’t look happy. This isn’t going to be good. Keeping his eyes on the men, he nudged Chris with his elbow. “I think we’re going to have company.”

Chris turned, irritation in his voice. “What do these guys want?”

“An apology,” Tom spat out.

“Screw them.” Chris assumed an air of invincibility as he casually turned back around and called for the bartender.

A deep burly voice cut through the crowd noise. “Hey you! Scrawny little man!”

Chris turned with a surprising smirk. “That’s the best you can come up with? What’s your problem?”

“You astronauts are my problem. You come in here and think you own the place, stealing our girls.”

Chris arrogantly held a hand out in the direction of the crowd. “I can’t help it if the local ladies know a real man when they see one.”

Tom couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Either Chris had a death wish, or he was just acting like an idiot. Though Tom wouldn’t mind seeing Chris taught a lesson, NASA couldn’t afford any bad press before a launch. Tom had no choice but to step in. He cut the men off. “Hey, we’re sorry. We didn’t mean to cause any trouble. Tell you what, how about we buy you guys a drink?”

The husky man placed his hand hard on Tom’s chest, easily pushing him aside. “Back off, spaceman. I want a piece of your friend.”

Now Tom was ticked, especially since Chris wasn’t his friend. He gathered himself and stepped right back in front of the man. “Let’s be adults about this.”

A sly grin appeared on the brute’s face. Tom felt a hand on his shoulder, causing him to briefly look over his shoulder back at Chris, which was a mistake. When Tom turned back around a massive fist was fast approaching his face. With only a split second to react, he quickly turned his head, insuring his nose wasn’t hit. The punch landed squarely on Tom’s jaw, snapping his head back hard, making him wobble on his feet for a moment. A flash of dull pain shot through his face and he briefly saw stars. Disoriented, he did his best to hold his ground. After a second he straightened up slowly. The thug’s face was red with anger, his eyes bulging out. All movement around them had stopped. Tom suspected all eyes were probably on him, everyone wondering what his next move was going to be. He couldn’t lose his cool and risk his career. Not for Chris, and certainly not for this bastard in front of him.

Tom rubbed his chin and was about to crack a joke when a loud voice broke the stillness.

“Knock it off, Donald!”

All turned to see a tiny, balding man push right through the crowd and jump between the two. With his back to Tom, the small man shoved both hands up against the burly man’s chest. “What the hell are you doing? I’ve told you no more fighting in here.” He pointed to the exit. “Get out!”

The giant wilted from the words. He threw up his hands in frustration. “Those guys started it.”

“I don’t care who started it. I told you no more fighting, and if it happened again you’ll be banned. Now get out of here!”

As the beast retreated, he pointed at Chris. “You’re one lucky cat.”

Chris flashed a cocky grin as he gave a condescending wave.

The small man kept pointing toward the exit until the brutes were gone. He then removed his glasses and said, “I’m so sorry about that, gentlemen.” He put his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Tom’s head was still reeling. “I should be okay. I might be a little sore tomorrow.”

The bar began to come back to life.

“Believe it or not, those men mean well. I’ve known them since they were little boys.” The little man turned to confirm the men were gone, then turned back around. “I’m the manager here, and the rest of your drinks are on the house. I’ll send a waitress over to your table.”

Tom rubbed his chin again. “Thanks. We appreciate that.”

As the two walked back to their friends, Chris said, in an apologetic tone, “Sorry about that, Tom. Especially for that blindside punch. When I put my hand on your shoulder, I was trying to move you over. That should have been my fight.”

Irritated, Tom stopped in his tracks and angrily turned. “Chris that should have been no one’s fight. I’m not sure if you care about your career, but I care about mine, and the last thing I need is to be arrested. You need to be smarter on how to act in public.”

Chris lost his smug grin. “You’re right. Sometimes I lose focus if I’m challenged. Thanks for stepping in.”

Chris’s problem was his obnoxious, cocky attitude, which Tom knew would never change. Tom simply shook his head in frustration as he headed back to his seat.

Everyone at the table was staring at Tom as the two men approached.

David was the first to speak. “What the hell was all that about?”

Without hesitating, Chris said, “Couple of brutes tried to pick a fight, but Tom stepped in and saved the day.”

Sitting in Tom’s seat, smoking a cigarette, Connie looked concerned as she offered up the barstool with a knowing smile.

He signaled for her to stay as he rubbed his jaw. “Yeah, and I paid the price.”

Chris excitedly announced the prize for Tom getting punched. “The drinks are on the house. A waitress will be over in a second.”

Putting a hand on Tom’s arm, Connie said softly with care in her voice. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. One of your local boys decided to test out his fist with my chin.”

“I’m so sorry. They can be absolute asses.”

“They say we’re stealing their girls.”

Her coy grin returned. “Are you?”

Tom smiled.

After a few more rounds of drinks, all were feeling loose. Some of the group had paired off and were kissing, including David, who was all over the brunette.

Tom was enjoying Connie’s company but still being a complete gentleman. He suspected the blonde was getting frustrated. She had been dropping hints over the last hour, trying to get Tom to make a pass, but he wasn’t biting. He was about to call it a night when, surprisingly, she snatched her purse and jumped off the barstool.

“I need to step out and get some fresh air.” Without waiting for a response, Connie turned and headed for the patio.

Enticed by the aggressive maneuver, Tom couldn’t fold in his tent quite yet, not as he watched the beauty walk away. He turned to David, who was in a tight embrace. “I’m stepping out to the patio with Connie.”

Continuing his assault on the brunette, David raised his hand, signaling he understood.

Tom chugged the last bit of his scotch, slammed down the glass and hustled to catch up.

The nighttime temperature was perfect as the two sat side-by-side on a comfortable padded bench. Whenever Connie leaned back to stare into the clear night sky, Tom couldn’t help himself from stealing discreet glances at the curvature of her perky breasts.

The night stars seemed to inspire Connie. She started quizzing Tom on his space mission. He was happy to share the experience, leaving out the mishap when he flew the jet pack.

After fifteen minutes outside, David stumbled over with his arm draped around the brunette. Obviously intoxicated, David informed Tom that everyone at the table was calling it a night, which he suspected meant most were taking their companions to their rooms. Tom reminded his friend they were scheduled to meet the VIPs for breakfast at 8:30. David acknowledged the appointment before escorting the young beauty from the patio.

All of a sudden pain returned to Tom’s jaw. To relieve the pressure, he opened and closed his mouth. Connie noticed. “Does your jaw still hurt?”

“Yeah, I think my buzz is wearing off.”

“I have some nursing background. If you like, we can go up to your room and I can work my magic.”

Tom knew what that “magic” would be, and he knew he should say goodnight. But something prevented him. Convinced he could stay in control, he decided to have a little fun and tease himself. “I have a bottle of scotch in my room.”

She licked her lips provocatively. “Far out.”

Tom escorted the head-turner through the hotel, but once they reached the doorway of his room he started to question his decision. Connie had pressed her body up against him during their elevator ride, and he did nothing to stop her. As he fiddled with the key in the door lock, Connie again pressed up against him. After opening the door, she playfully ran her soft hand along his arm as she entered, keeping her eyes locked on his for the whole time. Tom cautiously followed close behind before turning to close the door. He was surprised to see Chris across the hallway poking his head and arm out of his room hanging a Do Not Disturb sign. Chris flashed a mischievous wink before closing his door.

Shoot! Not him.

The frustration of Chris seeing Tom with Connie was instantly washed away when he saw the blonde comfortably propped up against the pillows on the king-sized bed. Her dress had conveniently slipped high up her tan legs, the boots crossed at the ankles. Her arms were up with her fingers interlocked behind her head, causing her breasts to protrude. She purred, “So where’s that drink, honey?”

Tom held onto the doorknob, like a struggling swimmer clutching a life preserver. He had to make a decision. If he took another step into the room, there was no turning back. He either had to end the evening right then, or make a couple of drinks and enjoy an intimate encounter with this lovely creature. He took a long hard look at the enticing sight lying in front of him while debating the pros and cons in his head. This time no angels appeared to guide him. Finally, he shook his head. Damn it. I can’t.

Not moving, he said discouragingly, “Sweetheart, I hate to do this, but I have to call it a night. I’m so sorry to have dragged you up here, but to be honest, I was confused. Other than my wife, I have never been in the company of such a beautiful lady. Bottom line, I’m happily married with a wonderful family.”

Connie acted as if it was no big deal, swinging her legs over the side of the bed before letting them drop to the floor. She stood up, straightening her dress. “That’s groovy, honey. No hard feelings. And thanks for the far out compliment.” She crossed over to him and gave him a soft peck on the cheek. “You’re a gentleman. Your wife is lucky.”

As she left, sashaying down the hallway, Tom took one final look at his one-night-stand that could have been. And I’m one lucky-frustrated-husband.

10

WHAT TO DO?

Intensity was evident in the chiseled lines and creases of Dick’s face. Tom slowly took a seat across from his boss. He had no idea why he was called to the office, especially while the Apollo 10 mission was still going on. Before he could say hi, Dick rose abruptly and walked past him without saying a word.

Curious, Tom turned and saw Dick locking the door, something he rarely did. As his boss circled back to his desk Tom broke the silence. “So what’s up?”

Falling heavily down into his chair, Dick placed both elbows on his desk, clasping his hands tightly together. Small beads of sweat materialized on the director’s forehead.

Tom tapped his fingers nervously on the armrest.

Dick leaned forward, piercing Tom with a cold, calculating stare. Dick spoke in a soft, yet intense, tone, “What I’m about to tell you can never leave this room. This is serious top-secret shit.”

Tom pushed back in his seat, preparing himself for whatever might come. “Got it.”

“Apparently we made a secret deal with the Soviets. They supplied us with a part for the F-1 engine and in return we promised them lunar core samples from two missions to be passed on in secret.”

The words hit Tom like a blast of cold air, pushing him even deeper into his chair. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. We’re working with the Communists? With his mouth slightly agape, he shook his head. “Are you serious?”

Intently, never blinking, Dick answered, “Yes, I couldn’t believe it myself.”

Tom immediately thought of the markings he saw on the F-1 engine, convinced they were somehow relevant. He looked out the window, wondering why his boss was telling him this.

Dick’s voice stayed intense. “The Soviets insisted on getting material from the first mission. Apparently they’re having problems returning a Luna craft with samples from the moon. If we’re successful with Apollo 11, the material we pass on will be used by the Soviets to pull off a hoax involving a future Luna mission. They will allege that it landed safely on the lunar surface, successfully drilled out a core sample and returned it to earth.”

The Soviets had been trying to upstage the Americans with unmanned spacecraft over the last few years, even trying to be the first to return lunar samples to Earth. Now Americans were going to pass on some of their precious cargo so the Soviets could fool the world and claim a minor victory? “Why in the world would we promise them any of the lunar material we bring back?”

“Good question, and I wish I had an answer. All I know is we were having stability issues with the Saturn V during development and apparently the Soviets have the technology to solve the problem. Somehow a deal was made.”

Tom nodded his head, giving the impression he knew something.

Dick jumped in before Tom could speak. “I know what you’re thinking, and yes, I agree. What you saw at Michoud is probably somehow related. If I were you, I would forget about that. This is so top-secret, it can be dangerous to know too much. I’m not even sure who is aware of the agreement. I’m told it goes high up, but not to the top. If this information ever leaked out, it could ruin America’s credibility and probably end funding for the space program. With so much at stake, I feel the powers that be would go to great lengths to ensure the truth never got out.”

“So why are you telling me this?”

“You’ve always been my ace-in-the-hole. After I passed along the pictures you took at Michoud, I started to get wind of a covert operation linked to the Soviets and the need for one of our astronauts to be involved. With your experience and the fact that you already knew about the markings in the F-1 engine, I immediately considered you. That’s why I never assigned you to a mission. I wanted you available.” With an amused glint, Dick’s eyes widened. “How would you like to command Apollo 16?”

Tom was now baffled. Why was his boss offering him the commander’s seat on 16? “What are you talking about?”

“I only want one astronaut involved in this operation. He will steal an Apollo 11 lunar sample from the LRL vault and pass it on to the Russians. Since the deal includes material from Apollo 11 and a future mission, I need a veteran astronaut I can place in command of a future moon flight so he can embezzle a soil sample during one of his moonwalks.”

Tom sat up. “You’re kidding me. You want me to steal a lunar sample from the LRL vault and the moon?” The Lunar Receiving Laboratory was a top security-building that would house the lunar material in storage vaults as well as research laboratories and quarantine quarters. The world was concerned about a deadly organism possibly being brought back from the moon, and the LRL building was designed to safeguard against such a possibility. Stealing anything from that building would be like taking gold from Fort Knox.

Dick shook his head. “I know. It all sounds crazy. I don’t have the details yet on how it will all go down. I’ve heard there is someone in the know who works in the LRL building who will make it possible for you to snag a premeasured sample from the vault.”

“Won’t the material be noticed missing?”

“The government plans on distributing hundreds of samples from the soil and rocks Apollo 11 brings back to various dignitaries throughout the world. A plan is in place to grab the confiscated material from that lot. I believe some of the samples sent out won’t actually be lunar material and will subsequently be lost. But since Apollo 11 is the only mission where samples will be given away, any material taken out of the vault on any later mission would be impossible to cover up. The only way to secretly snatch that material is by an astronaut stealing it directly from the moon’s surface. That’s why I need you on 16.”

Tom’s head was spinning. He lifted his hand towards his boss. “Wait, slow down. So why are we giving the Soviets lunar samples from two missions and not just one?”

“The Soviets insisted on a sample from Apollo 11 and I guess part of the deal included a sample from a second mission, which needed to be in close proximity to 11’s landing. Right now, of the remaining missions, Apollo 16 is slated to land closest to 11’s landing site.”

Tom still couldn’t believe he was being asked to steal a sample of lunar soil from the LRL building, which was a new, classified building. He knew nothing of its layout or security. “You know I’m unfamiliar with that building. What if I’m caught? Will I get support from NASA?”

Dick slowly leaned back in his chair. “I’ll make sure you get the needed information to carry out the operation. But I won’t beat around the bush. Only a few within the organization will know why you will be stealing that sample. Because this is such a top-secret operation that could harm the program, no one, not even me, will back your story. If you’re caught, your career will be over. You could possibly be put on trial for stealing government property.”

Clenching the armrests, Tom’s eyes widened at the thought of being arrested.

Dick leaned over his desk. “But I plan on you not failing. I wouldn’t offer this to one of my men if I didn’t think it would work. I’ll do everything I can to ensure the operation goes as planned, and most importantly, you’ll be doing a patriotic service for your country.”

Tom looked out the window. This was serious shit. The last thing he ever expected when coming on board with NASA was to be involved in a cloak and dagger conspiracy.

Dick continued in an encouraging tone, “I know this is asking a lot, but you’re the best man for the job.”

Tom exhaled, pleased his boss was finally backing him for a mission, but in his wildest dreams, he could have never imagined such a crazy scenario. “What about the backup crew slated to rotate onto 16?”

“I will assign them to 18. I’ll come up with a reason why.”

Not only was Tom being offered a chance to walk on the moon, he was being given command, his dream. But was it worth taking a chance on being hung out to dry by the organization if he was caught stealing lunar material?

“Tom, I hate to have to tell you this, but if you don’t take this offer, I won’t be assigning you to a future mission. This is per instructions from above. It’s either take on this operation and fly 16, or your astronaut career is over.”

That put Tom in a tough spot. How could he turn down flying to the moon? “How soon do you need an answer?”

“Tomorrow.”

“All right. I’ll mull it over tonight and make a decision.”

“Fair enough. Keep in mind this is considered a high-level, classified operation that can’t be discussed with anyone, not even Anne.”

“Roger that.”

FEELING SLIGHTLY DIZZY from standing up too fast, Anne steadied herself by holding onto her chair. Apparently the few glasses of wine she’d had during lunch with Joan had made her a little tipsy. Though it was rare for the friends to have midday cocktails, the drinks were needed to help them through their emotional discussion. The ladies were at their favorite restaurant per Anne’s request. It had been obvious the last few weeks that something had been bothering Joan. Anne wanted to give her friend an opportunity to open up. Getting away from the kids and having a little alcohol had done the trick. Finally, through tears, Joan shocked Anne by saying she suspected David was having an affair.

Anne did her best to console her friend after hearing the devastating news. Though the evidence was compelling, both ladies hoped Joan’s suspicions were false. Pushing in their chairs as they got ready to leave, Anne’s heart dropped seeing the depressed look on her best friend’s face. Anne reached over and gave Joan a big hug. “I’m confident everything will work out. David is a good man.”

A sad smile appeared on Joan’s face. “I love him so much. I pray to God I’m wrong about all of this.”

Anne clutched her friend’s arms. “Wrong or right, don’t give up on him. David is a good man. You two have a long, wonderful history together, and amazing kids. You don’t want to just throw all that away. You’re a strong woman and I know you can make it through anything. But no matter what, always know I’m here for you.”

Joan reached up and squeezed Anne’s arms. “Thank you, that means a lot. And thanks for this lunch. I needed this.”

“That’s what friends are for.”

The two walked in silence to the exit. Having arrived in separate cars, Anne found Joan had parked on the other side of the parking lot. Anne gave her friend a final hug. “It’ll all work out, just have faith.”

“I hope you’re right.”

The restaurant’s door swung open and the ladies moved to clear a path. When Anne looked over she saw Chris Riddick saunter out with a big grin. “Well hello.”

Both women put on a happy face and Anne answered, “Hi, Chris.”

Chris brazenly put his arm around Anne. “Any chance I can bum a ride from you two lovely ladies?”

Anne looked toward Joan hoping she could offer.

Not getting an immediate response, Chris tried to justify his request as he removed his arm. “Sorry to ask, but I was stuck in a boring lunch meeting. I had to get out of there, but my damn ride didn’t follow. My car is at home, so I only need a lift there.”

Joan said apologetically, “We came in separate cars and I need to run some errands.”

Chris looked toward Anne with a pleading expression. Chris now lived in the Nassau Bay apartments after separating from Sandy, which were not too far from Anne’s home, so she happily obliged. “No problem, I can take you.”

Anne said her final goodbyes to Joan, then led Chris to her car. He politely opened her door before walking around toward the passenger’s side. Even in his coat and tie, she could tell he was in great shape as he passed in front of her. While driving down NASA 1 roadway she sensed Chris was stealing glances at her. Anne felt a bit guilty, enjoying the attention. Though she didn’t know exactly why he and Sandy had divorced, Anne figured it was probably because they were polar opposites; he the flamboyant flight jockey, she the shy, quiet housewife. She wondered how they ended up together in the first place.

Chris broke the silence. “Thanks for the ride. That meeting was so boring. I figured I’d be better off walking home.”

“My pleasure. Besides, you don’t want to do that. Not in this hot weather.”

“True. I guess I’m still adjusting to the Houston weather. I’m not used to the month of May being so damn hot. So thanks for saving me.”

Anne looked over and caught him staring. His piercing green eyes caught her off guard, so she turned away quickly without showing any expression.

With apparent sincerity, Chris said, “The least I could do for driving me home is to give you a thank-you gift.”

Anne was curious what that could be.

He continued. “I have one of the new, stuffed-astronaut Snoopy dolls, which I bet Peter would love.”

Anne was touched he was thinking of her son. “That’s sweet, but you should pass that on to one of your own children.”

“Don’t worry, I already have. I just happen to have an extra one.”

Having seen a magazine article about the toy, Anne knew Peter would love it. “Well, that would be wonderful.”

“Great. I might need a few minutes to look for it in my apartment, if you don’t mind coming up.”

Being a colleague of Tom’s, Anne fully trusted the handsome man. “That would be fine.”

When they reached the entrance to his home, Chris unlocked and opened the door before graciously stepping aside, allowing her to enter first. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

With most of the curtains drawn, Anne found it difficult to make out exactly what she was seeing. To be safe, she took a few cautious steps in and stopped. Cologne-scented, air-conditioned air welcomed her. She heard Chris flip switches behind her. A few hanging lights above her lit up, followed by lights throughout the apartment. The décor was what one would expect for a swinging bachelor, decorated in hip colors and all new furniture. Just to her left was a black baby grand piano next to a modern bar with a couple of silver bar stools. Across from the bar was a white leather sofa with a few black throw-pillows. Toward the back of the room, a gleaming, silver-metal circular staircase rose through the ceiling. Anne assumed those steps led up to his bedroom.

“Make yourself comfortable.”

That wasn’t going to happen. Not here. Impatiently, Anne said, “How about we look for the doll?”

Chris took off his coat and slung it over his shoulder. “No problem. You search down here and I’ll check upstairs.” As he aimed for the stairs, he called out, “It’s in a blue box.”

“Okay.” While Chris hustled up the stairway, Anne began scanning the room in search of the toy. Being nosey, she swiped a finger over the top of one of the cabinets and was astounded to see not a speck of dust on her fingertip. He must have a maid. Remarkably, no mementos hung on the walls highlighting Chris’s military career or his time at NASA. Instead, various works of modern art were displayed, giving no indication an astronaut lived there.

Chris’s voice came echoing down the stairs. “Found it.”

Anne called out, “Great.”

“I’ll be down in a second.”

Anne began looking over the fashionable apartment, convinced the suave astronaut could sweep any single lady off her feet amid these luxurious surroundings. She turned when she heard Chris coming down the stairs. His tie was off and he was holding a blue box. Instead of coming toward her when he reached the bottom, he unexpectedly darted into the kitchen. He called out, “Peter is going to get a kick out of this stuffed toy. My youngest boy sleeps with it every night.”

Anne was wondering what Chris was up to. “I’m certain he’ll love it.”

Chris came back into the living room with his hands full, carrying both the blue box and a silver ice bucket. Anne was flustered to see that Chris had unbuttoned his shirt over halfway down, exposing his hairy chest. Is he trying to impress me?

“You know these toys aren’t for sale yet.”

“I do. I really appreciate you giving this to Peter.”

Anne was surprised to see Chris take a detour behind the bar. He set the box on the bar’s glass top and said, “I’m going to fix a drink. Would you like one?”

Still feeling the effects of the drinks from lunch, Anne knew she should get the toy and be on her way. “No thank you. I need to get going.”

“I hate to drink alone. How about just one?”

Anne shook her head “no” as she approached the bar to retrieve the blue box.

Chris lifted both hands, as if surrendering. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite.”

Maybe the earlier drinks were causing her to drop her guard, but she relented. “Okay, one drink. But then I have to go.”

“Great, what would you like?”

“A scotch and soda.”

“Got it.” He turned and grabbed a couple of highball glasses off the glass shelf behind him, then swung around and set them on the bar. He picked up the ice tongs and snagged a few ice cubes from the bucket. The clanking sound of the ice falling into the glass seemed to loosen Anne up. She took a seat on one of the barstools and pointed to the piano. “So do you play that thing, or is it there just to impress the ladies?”

Chris poured a shot of scotch in each glass before adding soda to hers. “Absolutely I play.” He slid her glass over to her, then walked to the piano, carrying his drink.

Anne dipped her finger in the cool liquid to mix up the drink before turning around on the barstool and crossing her legs.

After delicately placing his drink on the piano, Chris pretended to flip out the tails of an imaginary tuxedo before taking a seat on the small black bench. He lifted his hands high in the air dramatically, with his fingers pointing straight down to the keys. He held the pose for a second, looking over to her, giving her a self-assured wink. He then brought his hands down slowly. After the first few notes, Anne instantly knew the piece. It was Beethoven’s Für Elise, one of her favorites. Chris wore an intense look as he played masterfully. Anne sipped her drink, closing her eyes to enjoy the beautiful, melodic pace of the song. The sound grew louder and more intense toward the middle section. She opened her eyes and saw Chris’s eyes were closed. As the composition came to its conclusion, he softened the tone perfectly.

Anne was impressed and gave a soft clap. “Wow, very nice.”

Chris got up. “Thanks.”

Anne wanted to hear more. “That’s it?”

Without answering, Chris casually walked over to the barstool next to hers. He placed his drink on the bar and sat down, his knees inches from hers. “I thought I’d give you a chance to play.”

With a nervous giggle, Anne said, “All I know is Chopsticks.”

Chris waved his arm toward the piano. “I’d love to hear it.”

“Maybe next time.” Anne felt it best to get off the subject before she embarrassed herself. “You have quite a remarkable place.”

“Oh, thanks. Obviously I didn’t decorate it. I had it professionally done. Life magazine plans on doing a spread on it later next month. Apparently the American public is interested in how an astronaut bachelor lives.” Chris took a sip of his drink. “Of course the single life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

Anne flashed him a skeptical look. “How’s that? I’m sure there are a few astronauts jealous of the life you live.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m having a blast. However, I do miss family life.” Chris took another sip, then set his drink on the bar. “But you’re right. Some of the astronauts are envious. In fact, a few of them have asked to use my apartment so they can mess around.”

Hearing that disgusted Anne, especially on top of Joan’s suspicions. She looked down at her drink, swirling the contents. “That’s sad to hear. All the wives work hard at home so their husbands can follow their dreams.” She looked up into his green eyes and proclaimed proudly, “I’m glad Tom isn’t that way.”

Unexpectedly, Chris looked away. “Oh, sure.”

Wondering if Chris meant something by that, Anne tilted her head slightly and said, “He isn’t. I know he’s faithful.”

Chris spoke without looking at her. “If that’s what you want to think…”

Her body chilled to the core. She set her drink down hard, splashing some of the contents onto the counter before grabbing his arm. “What are you saying?”

With a distraught look, Chris turned. “You know all of the astronauts are constantly being put into tempting situations. Sometimes even the most loving husband slips.”

Anne couldn’t believe what he was implying. She tried to keep her emotions in check. “Are you saying Tom has had an affair?”

Gently taking her hand, Chris said with a sad sigh. “I shouldn’t be telling you this because it’s breaking an unwritten code among the astronauts, but I care about you. Yes, Tom is cheating.”

Anne pushed him away, the blood rushing in her ears. “No way! Not my Tom.”

With conviction, Chris said, “I saw it with my own eyes.”

“What did you see?”

“I saw Tom all over an attractive young blonde that he escorted into his hotel room.”

“You saw him take a girl into his room?”

“I did, this weekend. My room was right across the hall. He even flashed me a thumbs up sign before walking in.”

Anne felt like she just had her heart ripped out. Stunned by the shocking news, she covered her face with her hands. This can’t be right.

The soothing touch of Chris’s arms wrapping around her was comforting. He said in caring tone, “I’m so sorry.”

Mixed emotions flowed through Anne as she did her best to stay strong. This is crazy. Tom has never shown any sign of not being happy with me or our marriage.

Chris caressed Anne’s arms as her eyes welled up. She lightly dabbed under her eyes before removing her hands. She was surprised to see Chris just inches from her face. He tenderly touched her cheek, wiping away a tear. “You are such a beautiful woman.”

Trying to stay composed, Anne opened herself up for a comforting hug, but instead the unthinkable happened. Chris slowly leaned in and gently placed his lips to hers. The lingering kiss confused her momentarily as her body responded to the pleasant sensation. She hesitated for a second before realizing what she was doing. She planted both hands hard against his chest and pushed him away before quickly gathering herself. “I’m so sorry, Chris, but I have to go.” She hastily seized the blue box before jumping off the barstool.

Chris caught her arm before she could get away. “Let me escort you to your car.”

She turned. “Thank you, but I’m fine.”

His grip tightened. “Anne, don’t tell Tom what I told you. He can ruin me. I’m the only one who saw him enter that room, but many saw him in the bar with that girl.”

She peeled his fingers off her arm. “I promise I won’t divulge where I got the information, but thank you for telling me.”

She hurried toward the door as she called out in a trembling voice, “Again, thanks for the toy.” Without turning she ran out the door and to her car. She tossed the box onto the passenger seat and collapsed on the steering wheel, heart pounding. Did Chris invite me to his apartment for the sole purpose of making a pass? If so, how true could his story be? Even if Tom took a woman into his hotel room, that doesn’t mean anything happened. Not wanting to believe the worst, Anne said a short prayer, holding out hope.

11

THE DECISION

With his mind elsewhere, Tom walked through his empty house, still mulling over if he should take on the dangerous operation Dick just offered him. When he entered the kitchen, he was surprised to see no evidence of dinner being prepared. That’s odd. He called out, “Anyone home?”

A squeaky voice penetrated in through the kitchen entry-way. “Daddy, Daddy.”

Tom turned to see his exuberant four-year-old son racing toward him across the linoleum floor. Tom knelt, opening his arms wide to catch his beaming boy. When Peter was inches away he launched himself. Tom snagged his son in midair, before twirling around, lifting the boy high above his head. “How’s my little astronaut?”

“Good, Daddy.”

Tom expected to see Anne behind Peter, instead he saw only their dog, Dino, running in. The beagle started barking at his treat jar on the kitchen counter. Tom set Peter down. “Where’s Mommy?”

Peter pointed out the door toward the backyard. “She’s outside.”

Tom assumed Anne must be working in the yard. “Well let’s go see her.”

“Okay!”

Tom smiled when his son grabbed his hand and led him through the kitchen. Tom shouted toward his dog. “Come on, Dino! No food right now.”

The dog eagerly followed as Peter led Tom toward the sliding glass door. The curtain was open and Tom could see Anne sitting outside in one of the lounge chairs facing the back fence, smoking a cigarette. The early evening sun was setting, casting a long shadow over the backyard. After Tom slid the door open, both Peter and Dino jetted out. Tom expected the ruckus to cause Anne to turn around, but she didn’t move. As he approached he noticed the ashtray on the small glass table was filled with cigarette butts. Curious what was up, he bent down to give her a soft kiss on the cheek. “Hello, honey.”

Uncharacteristically, Anne turned away before his lips could touch her skin. Confused and seeing red blotches on her face, Tom placed a reassuring hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

Anne didn’t budge or say a word. Peter was playing with his truck in the middle of the yard, unaware of what was going on while Dino chewed on a bone by his side. Tom gently turned his wife’s face toward his. He was surprised to see her eyes were red, bloodshot and puffy, an obvious sign she’d been crying. “Anne, what’s the matter?”

Surprisingly, Anne’s voice was filled with anger as she fiercely jammed her half-finished cigarette into the ashtray. “You know why I’m upset.”

Tom raised an eyebrow. He had no idea what could be bothering his wife. He sat on the other lounge chair across from her, dumbfounded. “No, I don’t. Why are you?”

Anne turned away, folding her arms. “Yes you do.”

Tom didn’t want to play twenty questions. “Honey, I’m sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about. I have a lot on my mind and I’m in no mood to play games. What’s bothering you?”

Anne turned back with fire in her eyes. “You’re right, let’s don’t play games. Why don’t you tell me why I’m so damn mad? What did you do lately that would hurt me?”

Tom was starting to worry she might be talking about the blonde in Cocoa Beach. “I need some help.”

Anne started waggling her finger at him. “Really? Think hard, and keep in mind wives talk. So you sit there and think a moment. I expect you to be up front with me on something that happened over the weekend that would break my heart.”

Flipping through a rolodex of events in his mind, the only thing Tom could come up with that could possibly upset Anne was having drinks with Connie. Assuming one of the astronauts must have slipped and told his wife, Tom had no choice but to come clean about that evening. The question was, how much should he admit, especially since nothing really happened. Only Chris knew that Connie was in his hotel room, and the odds were slim the bachelor told his ex-wife. So Anne only knew he had drinks with the girl. Tom had to make a gut decision whether he should be fully open or not. This time he listened to the angel on his shoulder.

“While at the Cape, I did have some drinks with a girl. A bunch of us guys were hanging out at the hotel bar and a few ladies joined us. One thing led to another, and I ended up sitting with this one particular girl.”

Anne looked him straight in the eyes. “I’m all ears. Go on.”

“Well, nothing happened.” Set on telling her the truth, Tom took in a deep breath before continuing. “Although I did eventually take her to my room.”

Surprisingly, the news didn’t shock Anne. Instead she just rolled her eyes. “You took this girl to your room, and nothing happened? Come on, Tom, that’s pretty hard to believe.”

Tom lifted both hands, palms up. “Seriously, nothing happened. I didn’t even touch her. It was stupid to take her there in the first place, and I’m not sure why I did. I guess I wanted to test myself and see if I could stay in control.”

Anne glared at him. “Did you?”

Tom nodded vigorously. “Absolutely. As soon as I closed the door, I realized it was a mistake. I was an idiot for even taking a chance on jeopardizing our marriage. In fact, after I closed the door, I was too scared to even take a step into the room. I held onto the doorknob as I apologized and said she had to go.”

“What did she look like?”

“Does that matter?”

Anne’s patience was clearly being tested. “What did she look like?”

Tom swallowed hard. “She was a blonde.”

“Attractive?”

After a long beat Tom shrugged and reluctantly answered, choosing his words carefully. “I guess so. I’m sorry. But please believe me, nothing happened.” Tom reached for her hand and squeezed. “You are everything I want in a woman. I love you so much.”

Looking toward their son, Anne chewed on her lower lip. “How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”

“Sweetheart, have I ever lied to you?” Tom let go of her hand and reached for her chin, once again turning her face toward his. “Look into my eyes. You know me. Am I lying?”

Anne’s dark eyes studied his intently.

With conviction, Tom said, “Nothing happened. I promise.”

“Promise?”

Leaning in close, Tom placed a soft kiss on his wife’s lips. “With all my heart.”

Anne looked back at Peter and pursed her lips, apparently contemplating what to do. “You should know that I heard differently, but I’ve got no proof. So I have to believe you, because I want to, and I don’t want to lose you. But if I ever find out you’ve cheated on me, I’ll never, ever be able to forgive you. You will forever ruin the trust I have in you. You will lose me. And Peter.”

Tom wondered what she’d heard. “I know. That’s what scared me in that room.”

Anne turned and grabbed his hand. “So no more bringing women to your room.”

Tom squeezed her hand. “Only if it’s you.”

Anne smiled, but it was still a Cheshire-cat sort of smile. Tom knew he wasn’t out of the woods yet on this. Only in time would he regain her full trust. Honesty had always worked with her so far.

Tom moved over to her chair and snuggled in close. They exchanged a passionate kiss. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too. Very much.” She drew a sharp breath. “Joan…told me this afternoon that she is concerned that David has been unfaithful to her, so when I heard…well, never mind. It’s just gossip.” Anne started wiping her face with the back of her hand. “I must look like a mess. I’m going to go freshen up before getting dinner ready.”

Quickly standing, Tom offered his hand to help her up. As she straightened, Tom extended both arms, offering her a big hug. Anne smiled and wrapped her arms around him. They both hugged tightly in silence for a moment before she whispered in his ear. “So, do I need to get a blonde wig?”

What a loaded question that was. Tom had no idea how to respond. As they pulled apart he simply shrugged and flashed a sly grin.

“Maybe I will if that’s what it takes to keep my man.” She winked before turning toward the door.

Once at the sliding glass door, Anne called out, “Oh, by the way, how’s Sam’s flight going?”

“All’s well. They’ll reach the moon later tonight.”

Anne smiled. “Great.”

After his wife entered the house Tom placed both hands over his face in relief, falling back into the lounge. I am never going to do that again. What an idiot you are, Tom, almost losing everything. When he removed his hands he saw his son by the chair.

“Are you okay, Daddy?”

Tom moved one of his legs to the ground and patted the lounge, welcoming Peter to hop on. “Your daddy is one lucky man to be married to Mommy and to have a wonderful boy like you.”

Peter climbed onto the chair and settled between his father’s legs. The boy looked up at Tom with loving eyes. “I am lucky to have you as a daddy.”

Tom grinned proudly. “We’re both blessed, Son.” Tom moved his other leg over slightly to give Peter more room. “Just remember, always treat girls nice. They’re like pretty, delicate flowers that you must take care of and cherish.”

Tilting his head, Peter obviously didn’t understand the metaphor. “Okay, Daddy.” His son changed gears unexpectedly. “Daddy, when are you going to the moon?”

Tom wondered what prompted the query. Though he had talked about it with his boy, the moon mission had not been discussed for weeks. With the decision if he should take on the operation and fly on Apollo 16 looming over him, Tom pondered if his son’s question was driven by a higher power. “I’m not sure, Son. Do you want Daddy to fly to the moon?”

A worried look appeared on Peter’s face. “Will you come back?”

Tom held his son’s hand and spoke in a reassuring tone. “Son, I would never take a trip if I couldn’t come back to you and Mommy. I love you both too much.”

Peter’s face relaxed. “Okay, I want you to go to the moon and get me a rock.”

Tom chuckled at the innocent request, especially considering he might be stealing some rocks. “I doubt I can do that, Son.” He stroked Peter’s chin. “But I know I will be thinking of you when I’m there. How about I blow you a kiss from the moon? Your own moon-kiss.”

That seemed to satisfy the boy. “Okay!” All of a sudden the boy jumped off the chair and ran toward the sliding glass door. Dino dropped his bone and quickly followed.

“Where’re you going, Son?”

“I want to show you something.”

Tom watched Peter struggling to slide open the stubborn door. Once it opened, the boy charged in with Dino close behind. Tom called out, “Peter, close the door.” Not hearing any response, Tom started to get up to prevent the air-conditioned air from streaming out when Peter reappeared at the doorway carrying something. The boy came outside without the dog. He used all of his might to close the door. As he hustled toward his dad, Tom still couldn’t make out what he had.

Peter hopped back on the chair and placed a stuffed Snoopy toy on Tom’s lap. “You can take my Snoopy to the moon. He’ll protect you.”

Tom lifted the stuffed animal and studied it. The cartoon character was wearing a white spacesuit, similar to the Apollo suit. It even had a big clear plastic bubble helmet around the dog’s head like an astronaut’s. Seeing the toy was the sign Tom needed. Right then, he decided to take on the operation. “That’s a good idea, Son. Maybe I’ll do that.”

Peter got off the chair. He walked back to his toy truck in the yard and resumed playing.

Curious, Tom called out while still holding the toy, “When did you get this, Peter?”

Without turning, Peter answered, “Mommy gave it to me today.”

The only astronaut Tom knew who had early access to the toys was Chris Riddick. Doubting that the man’s ex-wife passed the information on to Anne, Tom was convinced Chris must have been the one who told Anne about Connie. Though Tom’s blood started to boil at the thought of Chris divulging the secret, he sighed with relief that he had listened to the angel. If he’d left out the fact he had escorted the girl to his room, a fact Anne already knew, then she definitely would not have believed that he did stay true to her. Tom turned his head and looked at the imaginary angel on his shoulder. “Good call, buddy.”

TOM STARED AT the picture of President Kennedy hanging in Dick’s office while his boss locked the door behind him. Tom was amazed America was on the doorstep of making a reality of the young president’s crazy vision of landing a man on the moon and getting him back safely. Tom shook his head thinking the success of Apollo 11 could lead to him walking on the moon.

Dick fell back in his chair. “So what have you decided, Tom?”

Turning toward his boss, Tom said with confidence, “I’m your man.”

Dick let out a big sigh of relief. “Good to hear, because I had no plan B.”

“So how’s all this going to work?”

Dick’s voice became intense. “Well, fortunately the LRL building was finally certified, so we don’t have to worry about that damn building holding things up. Our focus now is on Apollo 11 returning home successfully with lunar samples. Once that happens, the Soviets will officially schedule Luna 15 to launch a few months later. Regarding stealing the sample from the vault, I’ve learned a VIP from Washington will be visiting to inspect the LRL building after Apollo 11. His focus will be on its security as well as to attest that the overall setup is sufficient to contain any possible contamination. This individual will be unaware of your operation. You will be the one escorting him around the grounds and eventually through the building, where you will snag the sample. Further details will be passed on once the material is safely in the laboratory.”

Tom took that to mean whoever was running the operation questioned whether Apollo 11 would be successful. Tom had no doubt the veteran crew would pull off the mission.

Dick picked up a piece of paper and extended it toward Tom. “Here’s a list of possible crew members you can select from for your flight.”

Excited he was now a commander and would have a say on who flew with him, Tom leaned over enthusiastically and grabbed the paper. He studied the list for a moment, which had four names on it for the Lunar Module Pilot and five for the Command Module Pilot slot.

Tom continued to scan over the list as Dick stated the obvious, “Unfortunately, we cannot break up any of the crews already training together. This is the list of the men available who I think can handle the job. I want you to pick your crew from this group.”

Tom was surprised to see Chris Riddick’s name as one of the possible CMP’s. No way in hell I’m picking that guy.

Dick leaned back in his chair. “Because you’ll be secretly snagging lunar samples during your mission, I suggest picking men who are not your buddies. This should make it easier to keep the theft from them. Having said that, I think Chris would be a good choice for your CMP. I know you have issues with the man, but having that built-in animosity will guarantee the two of you will never get close. I’m confident he can do the job.”

Shaking his head “no” adamantly, Tom couldn’t spit out the words fast enough to display his displeasure at the suggestion. “There is no way I’m flying to the moon with that guy. If he’s on that ship, count me out.”

Dick grinned and said with an edge of sarcasm, “Well, I thought since you took a punch for the man, you would be open to the idea.”

Tom’s head jerked up. “Who told you that?”

“I have my sources. Sounds like you have a soft spot for the guy.”

“That was a mistake. I should have let Chris get the crap beat out of him. I would rather fly with my son than that ass.”

Dick let out a hardy chuckle. “Is Peter ready to fly the command module around the moon?”

Tom’s serious expression didn’t waver. “Not yet, but maybe someday. I hear his Snoopy is.” He looked down at the list again, and saw Kirk Cooley listed as one of the CMPs. Kirk joined NASA with Tom and was considered one of the group’s top pilots. After performing well on a backup crew, Kirk was slated to rotate onto an Apollo mission right before he broke his leg water skiing. So he lost his slot. “Kirk looks like a good possibility.”

“He’s a good choice. Tell you what, you think about it for a few days and let me know your thoughts. But again, I don’t want you getting too close with your crew. Of course I want a strong team that functions as a unit, but you need to keep your distance. They can’t get wind that you’ll be embezzling a lunar sample during your mission.”

With all the training the men would go through, it would be a trick to not develop a bond with his crewmates. He just had to make sure he kept the heist a secret. “Understood.”

12

ONE GIANT LEAP

The savory smell of hamburgers cooking over the open flame was making Tom’s stomach growl. He waved his hand through the gathering smoke as he started his second round flipping the burgers. The sizzling sound of the juices falling into the flame enticed his senses. He was given the job of overseeing the grilling while David vanished into his house to get a couple of desperately needed beers. After Tom’s demanding and emotional week, he needed quality time with his family and friends. Not only had he made a life-changing decision in accepting the dangerous operation offered by Dick, but the week also included addressing Anne’s suspicions that he had been unfaithful. A relaxing barbeque at the Grants’ home on a perfect Sunday afternoon was just what he needed.

A soft female voice came from behind. “Please put cheese slices on half of the burgers.”

Tom turned and gave an understanding wave to David’s wife. “Got it.”

Joan and Anne were both dressed in colorful sundresses, sitting across from each other at the picnic table, chirping away. Occasionally they would bring their voices down to a whisper, obviously discussing something in private, involving Tom or David, no doubt.

“Here’s a cold brew, my friend.”

Tom turned back to see David holding a pair of opened beers. Tom eagerly grabbed one of the bottles. “Thanks, buddy.”

A snicker came from David.

After taking a big gulp, Tom tilted his head. “What’s so funny?”

David took a moment before saying, in an amused tone, “When I walked into the kitchen, I heard a noise under the sink. Thinking it was a mouse, I reached for the broom so I could whack the hell out of the critter. I tip-toed over to the cabinet and bent down, cocking the broom handle way back. But when I flung open the door ready to smack the broom at the slightest movement, I saw something that made me hold back.” With a smirk on his face, David purposely held off finishing the story, building up suspense while he casually took a sip of his beer.

Tom sensed a punchline coming. “So what did you find?”

David wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, “Your four-year-old boy.”

Tom chuckled. “What was Peter doing under your sink?”

“Apparently he and Ashley were playing hide-and-go-seek. I think I scared the crap out of him. You should have seen his big eyes, but he quickly regained his composure and calmly brought his finger to his mouth, signaling me to keep quiet and close the door.”

“So you let him stay there?”

“Absolutely. I didn’t want to take away his great hiding place. Besides, I figured he’ll scare away the mice.”

Tom smiled.

David positioned himself so he could oversee the grilling. “By the way, I invited Dusty and his family to join us.”

Being one of the potential Lunar Module Pilots on Dick’s list, the timing was perfect for Tom to get to know the young astronaut better and determine if he might be a good fit for his crew. Even though Dusty Robinson lived only a few houses down the street, Tom never ran into the guy. What little Tom knew about Dusty was that he was a former Navy man who joined NASA as part of the fifth group of astronauts. He was currently working on the Apollo Applications Program, which Tom felt was a dead-end job. “Great. He seems like a nice guy.”

“He’s a hoot. Always good for a laugh.” David pointed at the burgers. “You may want to move some of those off the flame.”

Tom handed the spatula over to his friend. “Hey, you’re the master chef. Why don’t you take over?”

David happily obliged.

“Your wife suggested that half the burgers should have cheese.”

David accepted the order. “She’s the boss.”

Tom swiped the cold bottle of beer across his forehead to cool off before taking another big swig. Joan and Anne entered the house, giving the men some privacy. Tom said softly, “I have to tell you something that happened a few days ago.”

David looked up. “What?”

Glancing toward the door, Tom confirmed the ladies weren’t coming back. “Someone told Anne about Connie.”

David cocked an eyebrow. “Who’s Connie?”

Tom was surprised his friend didn’t know who he was talking about. Frustration colored his voice. “The blonde I hung out with at the bar over the weekend.”

“Oh. Who told?”

“I’m not certain, but I think it was Chris.”

“What an asshole.” David turned his attention back to the grill. “Well, all you did was have a few drinks with her, right?”

“Actually I took her to my room.”

David looked up, eyes wide. “You did?”

“But nothing happened.”

Focusing back on the grill, David flipped a couple of patties. “Really? She was pretty hot.”

“She was amazing. When we walked into the room she laid on the bed, looking unbelievably sexy and inviting. I knew right then I was in trouble if she stayed.”

David shook his head. “So you just kicked her out?”

“I guess, but in a nice way. It was hard.”

David laughed. “I know what was hard.”

Tom grinned at his friend’s joke.

After flipping a few more burgers, David patted Tom on the back. “Well good for you, buddy. So what did you tell Anne?”

“I told her the truth.”

David tilted his head slightly and said with a raised eyebrow. “And she believed you?”

“It took some convincing, but I think so.”

“Did Anne seem to know what else went on that night?”

Tom knew his friend was probing to find out if Anne knew about the brunette David had been with. “She only talked about the blonde. I bet if she knew anything else, especially anything involving you, she would have mentioned it.”

“Good.”

Tom looked toward the door to make sure the ladies weren’t returning. “But you should know, Joan did reveal to Anne that she is worried you might be fooling around.”

David stopped grilling and looked up with a concerned look. “Really? What made her say that?”

“No idea. Apparently the two had lunch together earlier in the week and Joan brought it up. I think she just suspects it at this point.”

“Damn.”

While downing some of the cold brew, Tom saw David staring at the house in silence. With sincerity, Tom said, “You have a wonderful family, David. Wouldn’t you hate to lose all of this?”

Dropping his head, David said in a grim voice, “No doubt, but like you said, it’s not easy. Especially with my training ramping up after the successful flight of Apollo 10. I’m hardly ever home, and when I am, there are a million things that need to be done. Bottom line, the excitement just isn’t there with Joan.”

Tom was pleased his wife still excited him. He was about to respond when the sliding glass door opened and out popped Dusty. He was tall and skinny, with auburn hair and freckles. He waved his arms, calling out, “Let the party begin.”

Tom smiled as Dusty crossed the patio with a beer already in hand.

David welcomed the neighbor. “Glad you could make it, Dusty. Did you bring the family?”

“I did. They’re inside. We appreciate the invite.”

“My pleasure.” David tipped his beer toward Tom. “Of course you know Tom?”

Dusty extended his hand. “We’ve sat in a few meetings together.”

Tom exchanged a firm handshake. “It’s good to see you, Dusty.”

Dusty took a drink of his beer. “So I saw you two were having an intense conversation. Did I interrupt anything?”

David resumed barbequing. “We were talking about wives and dealing with all the temptations we astronauts run into.”

“Well, I’m a newbie compared to you two, but I can still relate. Being married and being with only one woman can be tough. I like to compare it to a little boy who gets to pick from a variety pack of cereals every breakfast. Then one morning his mom tells him to pick his favorite brand and eat that the rest of his life. After a few years of eating that same damn cereal, no matter how good it was in the beginning, any other brand starts looking more interesting.”

Lifting his bottle and doing an imaginary toast, David responded, “Amen to that.”

Dusty continued. “But the trick is, to make that cereal more appealing, doctoring it up in some way, such as with toppings or eating it in a different manner.”

Tom chuckled, and though his wife wouldn’t like being compared to some Post Toasties, seeing Anne in a blonde wig would definitely be interesting. “I like that.”

Soon David had finished cooking the burgers and placed them all in a tin foil pan. “I’m going to take these in to the wife. Either one of you need another beer?”

Both men nodded before working their way over to the picnic table as David entered the home.

Tom took a seat and asked, “So how do you like being a part of APP?” The Apollo Applications Program was to develop future projects for the Saturn V rocket after the moon missions were completed. NASA wanted to take advantage of the available hardware by finding new programs the equipment could be used for, allowing the agency to stay flexible and keep the American people interested in the space program. This was paramount if the government funds were to keep coming. A couple of the ideas floating around for manned projects, such as a space station in Earth orbit or a lunar base on the moon, were exciting stuff, but years away.

Dusty had a lace of sarcasm in his voice as he answered. “Well, it’s the future of the program, which gives me a good shot at possibly living on the moon someday.”

Tom smiled. Dusty seemed to understand that a big question mark hung over the program. However, the rookie could be walking on the moon in a couple of years if Tom selected him for his crew. “Would you prefer to be a part of Apollo?”

“Of course, I’d love to fly to the moon. I’m sure every astronaut at NASA wishes he could get that opportunity. But as you know, there are only so many seats available, and I still haven’t figured out what I have to do to get one. I’m hoping David can give me some insight on how he got into the rotation. Until I know the trick, I’ll continue to happily take whatever Dick throws my way and try to do the best I can, hoping to stand out in some way.” Dusty took the last sip of his beer and put the empty bottle down. “But what worries me the most is seeing a top veteran like you not getting a seat. If someone with your experience can’t snag one, how in the world am I ever going to get on a flight?”

Tom was starting to think Dusty might be a good fit. “It’s frustrating for all of us who are not in the rotation. Dick is tough to figure out. It sounds like you’re doing all the right things, just keep doing the best you can and hang in there. That’s what I’m doing.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

Tom heard crying and saw David’s five-year-old daughter, Ashley, coming around from the side of the house with tears streaking down her cheeks.

Tom hopped up and hustled over to the barefoot little girl, to see if she was hurt.

Ashley looked up with her big green eyes floating in tears. “Do you know where my daddy is?”

Tom knelt down on one knee and put a consoling arm around the adorable girl. “He’s inside, sweetie. What’s the matter?”

“Peter is hiding and won’t come out. I keep calling for him.”

Tom chuckled at the little girl’s problem. He wondered if her eight-year-old brother was also playing. “Is David looking for him too?”

“No, he won’t play with us, and he won’t help me find Peter.”

Tom had to decide whether he should give up his son’s hiding place. Instead, he decided to give Ashley a little help. “Your daddy is in the kitchen. Tell you what, go in there and tell your daddy you saw big black spiders under the sink today.”

“I hate spiders.”

“Me too. So tell your dad and I bet you Peter will show up.”

The girl straightened her cute, yellow sunflower dress. “Okay.”

Tom walked back to the table as the girl left.

“Is Peter your boy?”

Tom smiled as he turned to Dusty. “He is.”

“Sounds like he’s already making the girls cry.”

“Yeah, but Ashley is going to set him straight.”

THAT’S ONE SMALL step for man, one giant leap for mankind.

Those historic words kept repeating in Tom’s head as he lay on the partially reclined lounge chair in his empty backyard, mesmerized by the gleaming crescent moon floating high in the black night sky. The yard was dead quiet except for the occasional cricket chirp. Tom kept shaking his head in amazement. He still couldn’t believe men he knew were on the moon, probably sitting in the LM at that moment excitedly discussing their recent walk on the lunar surface. Those lucky sons of guns. Their feat was making it more plausible Tom would be doing the same soon, once he successfully plundered a small sample of their precious cargo from the LRL building after their return.

The sliding glass door opened, breaking Tom’s concentration.

“What are you doing out here, honey? It’s after 2:00 a.m.”

Tom watched his wife cross the patio barefoot in a long blue nightgown, her arms crossed tightly against her body. He was surprised she was up after she’d kissed him goodnight over an hour ago and headed off to bed. She had had a busy day supporting one of the Apollo 11 astronauts’ wives at her packed home a few streets over. Anne even took the lead in dealing with the press, making sure they kept their distance. Tom had been at mission control observing the flight before eventually joining Anne at the gathering. By the time Tom got there the place had a party atmosphere, celebrating the successful landing and EVA. The two stayed late to help clean up. By the time they got back home, Anne was exhausted.

Tom answered in a lively voice. “It’s tough to go to sleep knowing two men we know are on the surface of the moon. I just can’t believe we beat Kennedy’s deadline, and the world got to see it live on television.”

“Yes, it’s definitely an amazing feat. But like them, you need to get some sleep.”

Tom opened his legs so his wife could sit between them. “I will.” He patted the seat in front of him. “But first come join me.”

Tilting her head slightly, Anne seemed to be considering the offer. Tom patted the area again before she finally consented and walked over. She positioned herself on the lounge and slid back tightly against his chest. She put her head back on his shoulder as she looked skyward.

Wrapping his arms snugly around her, Tom looked back up at the moon. His voice was still full of excitement. “I betcha they’re having a hell of a time trying to get to sleep. Could you imagine looking out your widow and seeing a vast, untouched, alien wasteland surrounding you, beckoning you to come back out? It must be like some dream. How can anyone sleep with that outside?”

Anne answered casually, “That’s why they have sleeping pills. They’ve hardly slept over the last few days, and they have another busy day tomorrow.”

“They’ll be lucky if they get an hour’s worth tonight. I know when I’m up there, I’ll probably be too wired and excited to sleep.”

When Anne turned around, Tom was surprised to see that her eyes were filled with joy. “That’s the first time over the last year you’ve talked about being on the moon.” She gave him a hard slap on the chest. “Good for you. I’m glad you’re talking like that. I’ve always said you’ll be up there someday. Besides, there are no blondes there to tempt you.”

Tom laughed at the joke, a sign his wife had accepted his side of the story. “Hey, there’s only been one moonwalk. So you never know. There could still be a lady or two somewhere on the moon.”

Anne smiled, settling her head back on his shoulder.

Tom hugged his wife a little tighter. He wished he could open up on what his chances were to fly to the moon, but he couldn’t.

WHEN VIKTOR ENTERED the hazy conference room, he saw the same man from previous meetings that he suspected was a KGB agent. The man sat patiently alone smoking a cigarette at the middle of the long wooden table. He signaled for Viktor to close the door, which he did before taking a seat across from the man. The agent appeared agitated, which Viktor assumed was due to the Americans officially winning the space race. Ever since the moonwalkers returned safely back to Earth two weeks ago, the morale around Star City had been at an all-time low. The demoralizing defeat was tough for any Soviet to swallow.

With the N1 rocket blowing up on the pad earlier that month, Viktor wondered if flying to the moon was a lost dream. “You wanted to see me?”

The man took one last deep drag off his cigarette before smashing the butt hard into the ashtray. He opened a file in front of him before slowly blowing out the smoke in Viktor’s direction, eyeing him the whole time. “Can you believe there is an American flag, right now, on the moon?”

Ignoring the smoke, Viktor tried to stay positive. He shook his head. “It’s a shock, but the Americans did sign the moon treaty. At least that flag doesn’t symbolize the moon is now their territory.”

An edge of frustration tinged the agent’s voice. “What that flag symbolizes is the United States will probably be the lone superpower of the world someday soon.”

Surprised by the statement, Viktor still felt his country would continue to be a superpower and a leader in space. “We accomplished many amazing feats in space, beating the Americans many times. Being the first to the moon shouldn’t erase all of those achievements. Besides, we could still be the first to Mars.”

Not listening, the agent looked right past Viktor with a blank stare. “Too bad we didn’t blow up their spacecraft.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow at that comment, wondering what the man meant. “Excuse me?”

The agent stayed in his trance. He seemed to drop his guard as he spoke in sadness. “The general secretary instructed us to do whatever we could to prevent the Americans from succeeding. We fired off a Luna spacecraft that had a laser weapon on board to chase down the Apollo 11 spacecraft. The plan was to destroy the Command Module while the astronauts were on the moon, basically leaving them to die. Such devastation would definitely have snatched victory from the Americans’ hands, essentially shutting down their space program. We would have soon been victors of the Cold War. But instead, the Luna spacecraft failed, crashing into the moon.”

Viktor sat stunned hearing about the secret plan. All the cosmonauts knew of the Luna 15 mission, figuring it was sent to retrieve lunar samples robotically. This was the first he had heard a weapon was onboard. He assumed the agent felt comfortable opening up since Viktor worked on the laser project when he first joined the program. At the time, he had no idea what its intended purpose was. Hearing the purpose was to try to assassinate American astronauts greatly disturbed him. As much as he wanted his country to win the space race, killing innocent spacemen purely for political reasons strayed way beyond what he thought was right. Those men were explorers just like him, trying to expand the reach of all mankind into the cosmos. A part of Viktor was glad the Luna mission had failed, even if it meant losing out on his own moon flight. He tried to keep a steady face as he responded firmly, “I believe they landed for all mankind, just as the astronaut stated.”

“That was a propaganda statement. We can’t trust the Americans. That’s why I called you in here.” The agent opened his briefcase and pulled out a pair of dark-rimmed reading glasses, sliding them over to Viktor. “You will be the man to receive the lunar material from the Americans. A neutral site for the transaction will be determined later. These KGB-issued glasses have a micro camera in them. I want you to learn how to use these without looking obvious. You will be taking pictures of the American astronaut as he passes the material over.”

Viktor took the glasses. He figured any cosmonaut wearing them would look suspicious, but he kept this to himself. “Why am I taking pictures?”

“We want proof the Americans handed over the material in case they claim we stole it.”

“When will this take place?”

“We haven’t been given a firm date yet, probably within the next couple of months. Part of the holdup was due to the Americans being upset we sent the Luna spacecraft while the Apollo 11 mission was going on. The agreement was for the robotic mission to fly after we secretly received the lunar material. Of course they had no idea a weapon was on board the spacecraft. They assumed we were just trying to retrieve a sample. We informed them a mix-up took place between the agencies. They finally accepted it as an honest mistake and agreed to secretly pass over the lunar material. Luna 16 will be the mission we will use to pull off the hoax.”

Viktor was disappointed the agency even had to go through with the plan. He was sure the engineers would eventually figure out how to return lunar soil samples. “What will my official reason be for meeting with an astronaut?”

“We will say the two countries are working on a future joint space mission. The meeting is to promote the idea.”

Considering the Soviets weren’t going to the moon anytime soon, this could be Viktor’s chance to get into space. “Will there be such a mission?”

“Good question. Possibly. If so, I would recommend you for the prime crew if you are successful with the transfer.”

Viktor stoically nodded, suppressing his joy at the possibility.

WITH THE THREE-WEEK mandatory quarantine completed by the Apollo 11 crew and the lunar material passing the initial testing for any contamination, Tom assumed his private meeting with Dick was to discuss the top-secret details on how he was going to steal lunar material. After entering the well-lit office, Tom took the initiative to close and lock the door.

“Have a seat, Tom.”

Tom walked over to the chair across from his boss. He understood, once the specifics of the operation were laid out, he would be considered an accessory to a crime, regardless whether he carried it out or not. He did his best to keep his cool as he took a seat. “So what did you want to see me about?”

Even with his door shut, Dick lowered his voice to barely an audible level. “I want to discuss the operation, which is now being called Red Drop. It was officially approved, and I’ve been given the final details on how you’re going to get the lunar sample.”

Tom was all ears.

Dick never wavered from his serious expression. “You should know Red Drop was almost canceled after the Soviets launched Luna 15 shortly after we launched Apollo 11. The Russians were supposed to hold off until our men returned. Apparently they tried to land the craft on the moon, but instead it crashed. Because only a few here at NASA are in the know about Red Drop, there was confusion whether we should still proceed with the operation. But we were finally given the Go.”

Tom figured the Soviets were trying a last-ditch effort to use their unmanned spacecraft to bring back samples of their own, maybe even beating Apollo 11 back to Earth. He was relieved the Luna mission failed, keeping his chances alive of walking on the moon. “Good.”

Dick opened up a file on his desk, studying the contents in silence for a moment. He cleared his throat, then brought his eyes up slowly. In a soft, yet direct tone, he said, “Senator Olson will be arriving next Tuesday for the day. You will be the one to show him around the facility in the late afternoon, with your last stop at the LRL building. The two of you are scheduled to be in the building’s lobby at four o’clock. For security reasons, there will be two men giving you the tour. One of those men will be in on the plan.”

Curious who that was, Tom started to ask.

Dick raised his hand as if to stop Tom. “Don’t ask me who it is. I don’t even know. He wants his identity kept secret.”

That could make things tricky.

Dick looked back down at the file and continued, “After touring most of the building, you and the senator will put on clean room attire over your clothes before being taken into the Sample Area, where most of the lunar material is stored. While in this vault, Senator Olson will be told he has an important phone call from Washington and will be escorted out. The man left with you should be our guy and will look the other way. Since the Senator will be told the call was lost, we figure you’ll have probably thirty seconds to a minute to nab the sample before they return. The sample will be in the black safe. The combination will already be dialed in, so all you have to do is turn the handle and open it. There will be a small Bolt-Top Container labeled RD that has the lunar soil. That is the one you snag. Then close the safe. It will self-lock. Because the container will be noticeable in the pocket of a pair of pants, you’ll need to wear your flight suit and slip it in one of the larger pockets.”

Tom shrugged in accord as he repositioned himself on the wooden seat. The BTC steel containers were the primary transport device for lunar material when leaving the building for examination or testing, always under tight security. The container held an atmosphere of pure nitrogen gas that protected the material from contamination. “Got it, but you know the senator will be in a coat and tie. How am I going to explain being in a flight suit?”

“Hey, you’re a NASA astronaut.” Dick looked out the window for a second. “But you’re probably right. It might draw suspicion. I’ll schedule you for some T-38 flight time that Tuesday.”

Tom nodded. “That should explain it. What about the technicians in the area?”

“That’s why this is happening in the late afternoon. It’s my understanding the laboratory will be cleared out for the senator.” Dick leaned back in his chair. “You will need to get the sample off the grounds and keep it in your possession. Do you have a secure place to store it at home?”

“I have a private safe I can put it in.”

“Perfect. Once you have successfully pulled this off, we will be given the specifics on how the sample will be passed on to the Soviets.” An anxious look of uncertainty filled his boss’s eyes, making Tom nervous. “Again, this is serious shit, especially with a senator there. So if anything seems out of place or is not going as planned, I want you calling it off. We can’t afford you getting caught. If you do, you will be on your own, and your career will certainly be over.”

Tom realized the risks involved. He also knew this was his only shot at the moon. “Understood.”

13

THE CAPER

Even though no music played over the car radio, Tom tapped his fingers nervously on the steering wheel during his early morning drive to the Manned Spacecraft Center. Later that afternoon he would be attempting to pull off one of the greatest heists in America’s history, stealing some of the most sought-after treasures in the world. He barely slept through the night, tossing and turning as he replayed the plan in his head, trying to prepare for the unexpected. If he should be caught, this could be his last time driving to work as a NASA astronaut. He did his best to push that thought from his mind.

Spotting the sign of the local strip mall was like a slap in the face, reminding Tom he was supposed to pick up David at the tire shop and give him a ride to work. Darn it, I almost forgot! He looked down at the clock on the dash and was relieved to see it was only 7:20. Whew, it’s still early. David had requested 7:30 a.m. Tom quickly shoved the clutch peddle hard to the floor as he downshifted the ’69 Corvette. Tires screeched as he slowed the mighty car down before turning into the parking lot.

As Tom drove up to the tire shop he was puzzled to see Dusty sitting in his white ‘67 Plymouth as it idled out front. David was on the other side of the sedan putting something in the backseat. As Tom pulled up, David looked over in his direction with a surprised look. I know David asked me to pick him up. Tom wondered if his friend still needed a ride. If he did, he expected David to haul out whatever he had just put in the car. But instead, his neighbor closed the door and hit the roof, signaling Dusty to move on.

As Dusty drove away Tom pulled up next to David. His buddy eagerly opened the door and jumped in. “Hey, Tom.”

“So what was all that about?”

David raised both eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

“Why was Dusty here?”

David seemed flustered. “Oh, he saw me waiting and asked if I needed a ride. I told him you were picking me up.” He quickly changed the subject. Looking at Tom’s flight suit, he asked, “Are you flying today?”

“Yeah, Dick scheduled me for some training.”

“What for?”

“Don’t know, but it’s fine with me. It gets me out of the office for awhile.”

David asked anxiously, “Can you still get me back here after work?”

“Sure. I’ll be returning to the office later in the afternoon to escort a senator around.”

“Good, because you’re my excuse for leaving early. I promised Joan I’d finally attend one of Ashley’s piano recitals. Besides, the tire shop closes at 5:30.”

Though the timing was perfect for Tom to get out of the office soon after snagging the lunar sample, he still wondered why his friend was so adamant about the ride. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

Both men rode out the remainder of the drive in silence. As Tom pulled into the MSC parking lot, David spoke up. “I decided to cool it on messing around on Joan. You were right. I would hate to lose what I have.”

Tom was happy to hear his friend was going to change his ways, but it wouldn’t be easy. He knew of other astronauts who tried to stop cheating only to eventually fall back into their old ways. It seemed once that line had been crossed, it was that much tougher to resist the ever-present temptation of overly-friendly women. Tom thought back to Connie, glad he had resisted that temptation. He vowed he would never put himself in any future compromising situation, and he hoped his friend could sustain his resolve. “I think that’s a good call.”

THE MUGGY AUGUST weather was sucking the air out of Tom as he and Senator Olson approached the MSC-issued sedan. The late-afternoon sun that reflected off the car’s bright white exterior slashed at Tom’s eyes, making it difficult to make out the NASA emblems plastered on the front doors. Tom decided it was best to drive to the LRL building instead of walking the half mile trek in the draining sun. Entering the car was like stepping into an open blast furnace. As gobs of sweat developed in his flight suit, Tom looked desperately for relief and immediately rolled down his window. Unfortunately, the weak air conditioner wasn’t going to provide any immediate respite over the short jaunt. Instead of dealing with the blistering hot air that would initially be spitting out of the vents, Tom elected not to even bother turning on the AC.

After he started the car, Tom observed perspiration dripping down the senator’s forehead from his swept-back, greasy black hair down past his thick, black-rimmed eyeglasses. Tom felt he needed to apologize for the Texas attack. “Sorry that this car feels like a wet sauna. I figured walking would be even worse.”

The man removed his glasses and casually took a handkerchief from the pocket of his tailored suit. He wiped his face thoroughly. Without looking towards Tom, the senator said dismissively as if he was talking to some lower class functionary, “This is the weather I expected. I’ll be fine.”

Tom had done his best to give an entertaining tour of the grounds, but his heart hadn’t been in it. His mind had been racing over what he was about to do in Building 37, their next stop. An edge of anxiety crept into his voice as he informed the senator, “Our final stop is the Lunar Receiving Laboratory where the Apollo 11 astronauts were quarantined and all the lunar rocks are stored. You are about to be one of only a handful of people to actually see moon rocks up close.” And I can’t believe I’m about to steal some.

The senator was direct and harsh as his condescending voice cut through the musty air. “I’m very familiar with the building, and I don’t care about seeing rocks. What I do care about is seeing how your agency is protecting the world from the possible threat of a deadly organism being brought back from the moon. I expect to get a firsthand look at how those rocks are being handled, as well as ensuring their safeguard.”

Tom was done trying to be nice to the annoying and pompous senator. Besides, he had more pressing issues on his mind. Knowing the senator was going to be scrutinizing every aspect of the lunar material’s security meant the person not in on the plan would be keeping a close eye on the overall operation of the building, including the group being escorted. Since the senator wasn’t star-struck by the veteran spacewalker, Tom wouldn’t be cut any slack if caught. In fact, the senator would probably consider the foiled crime as another notch on his belt of protecting America’s interests.

After the short, quiet drive to the unassuming, university-like concrete building, Tom threw the car into park and sat staring at the front door. He cringed at the thought of possibly walking out of the structure in handcuffs, his career over. Everything he had worked so hard for over the last five years was riding on what would happen during the next thirty minutes, and it scared the hell out of him. What are you doing, Tom? You’re not some secret agent man. He drew in a calming breath and bowed his head. He then forcibly hit the steering wheel with his balled-up fist. You can do this, Tom.

“Is this the building?”

Breaking out of his trance, Tom wondered how long they had been sitting in the idling car. He turned off the motor. He noticed it was four o’clock. “It is. Let’s get on inside where there’s air conditioning.”

Neither man bothered rolling up his window. The unbearable heat appeared to be taking its toll on the senator, who got out of the car lethargically, gradually working his way to the main entrance. A gush of welcoming, cool air greeted them when Tom opened the glass door. He stepped aside, allowing the senator to enter the freshly painted lobby first. Tom followed and directed them toward the receptionist. Their steps echoing off the linoleum floor got the attention of three men huddled together in white lab coats. The men looked over. Right away Tom recognized the weathered face of Gerald White, who oversaw the operation and security of the building.

Gerald’s eyes widened. He instantly parted from the other men and marched directly toward Tom and the senator.

Tom halted in his tracks, surprised the head of the building’s security was there. Is Gerald one of our escorts?

“Hey, Tom.” Gerald looked toward the senator as he extended his hand and said in his gruff voice, “You must be Senator Olson. Welcome to the LRL building. I’m the Chief Operations Manager, Gerald White.”

As the senator shook Gerald’s hand and introduced himself, Tom eyed with trepidation the other two men walking over. There was only supposed to be two men showing them around, not three. I sure hope one of these guys is just visiting with the others.

The white haired man with wiry glasses extended his hand toward Tom. “Hello, Tom, I am Dr. Lloyd Brooks, the Director of Medical Research and Operations.”

Tom grasped the hand. Lloyd was the MSC administrator in charge of the containment program. As Lloyd moved aside to introduce himself to the senator, the third man with a full face stepped up. Tom shook his hand.

“Hi, Tom, I’m Walter Coleman. I’m on the Biological Advisory Committee. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The BAC was responsible for making sure the containment program was adequately designed. “Nice to meet you, too.” Tom shifted his weight uneasily from one foot to the other. “Are all three of you escorting us through the building?”

Dr. Brooks answered as Walter turned to shake the senator’s hand. “We are. We wanted to ensure the senator’s questions were answered by the right people and that he was given a top-notch tour.”

Tom’s stomach muscles tightened as he cracked a half smile. “Oh, great.” What was he going to do now, especially considering all three men were upper management?

From the introductions, Tom was unable to tell who was in on the plan, and whoever it was must have known Tom was confused by the number of them. He had to determine who his co-conspirator was and verify if he should still proceed with the theft.

After signing in and being provided lab coats and badges, Tom and the senator were given a detailed walkthrough of the crew quarters and operations area. Tom was too focused on trying to pick out his collaborator to hear anything being said. With his hands deep in his lab coat pockets, he fidgeted with the loose threads inside as he walked behind the group, studying the body language of each NASA man. After twenty minutes, Tom still had no idea who his accomplice was. His gut told him it was Gerald, but that was purely a guess. Since the manager had been leading the tour, Tom had been unable to get any kind of a signal from the man. With their final stop coming up, Tom was starting to get cold feet.

Once they had put on clean room gloves and caps, they climbed the last stairwell to the vault. Tom felt a sudden chill as they entered the short, empty hallway that dead-ended at the entrance to the sample area. Tom froze for a second as he stared down the well-lit corridor at the gleaming door that led into the inner sanctum of the building, the home of the moon rocks. It was coming down to the moment of truth. He took in a tense, sharp breath before catching up with the men, whose voices bounced off the walls, mixing with the sounds of their footsteps.

When they reached the door, Gerald turned around, rubbing his hands together. “Gentlemen, you are about to see something amazing and special—moon rocks brought back by Apollo 11. Please check that your caps and gloves are on properly.”

Tensely, Tom adjusted his cap as he tried to figure out what he should do. The senator suddenly piped up with a question about the containment procedures. Both Lloyd and Walter moved toward the senator to address the query. This was Tom’s chance to get a private moment with Gerald. Tom shuffled over and looked both ways before leaning in close. Without saying a word, he wiggled his eyebrows up and down before flashing a thumbs-up sign.

Gerald tilted his head slightly before nodding with a grin. He put a firm hand on Tom’s shoulder and whispered, “You’re right, all is going to plan.” The manager pulled away with a quick wink.

Tom let out a sigh of relief, having found his accomplice. He took the comment as a statement that everything was still a go. He was about to quietly confirm his assumption and ask if he should go through with the heist when, surprisingly, Gerald followed up his comment with, “The senator does look happy.”

Tom jerked his head back. What? Did Gerald think my signal was about the tour and what the senator thought? Tom was back to square one. Damn! He forced a smile as he disappointedly stepped back and double-checked that his gloves were secure. Once everyone was ready, Gerald typed in the code on the door keypad. Hearing the loud opening sound of the latch echoing down the empty hallway caused Tom to shudder. He still had no idea what he was going to do. He stepped aside to let the others enter, looking each in the eye in his last-ditch effort to establish who was in on the plan. After they all passed, he shook his head in disappointment. He had no clue. As he followed dejectedly, he figured if any workers were in the lab, the caper was off. If not, then he would make his decision when the senator was escorted out for the phone call.

Tom passed through a small work area before entering the lab, getting his first look at the gleaming, round-the-clock, sterile room. His heart skipped a beat when he saw no scientists inside. He maintained his composure as he scanned the area filled with white surfaces, cold metal, glass panels and the unearthly presence of nitrogen tanks. As nonchalantly as he could, he searched for the black safe.

Dr. Brooks, in front of Tom, pointed proudly to one of the clear glove boxes filled with protective nitrogen that had a moon rock sitting inside. “This laboratory conducted the preliminary testing of the Apollo 11 rocks, verifying they were free of any contamination. We of course will be doing more detailed testing and research later in the operations room. I should point out that this facility had to go through a rugged three-month trial period before it was certified by the ICBC. I’m pleased to say we passed that rigorous inspection with flying colors.”

The doctor was embellishing a bit. Casually, Tom looked along the perimeter of the room trying to spot the safe.

The senator stared at the glove box and said, with a sense of authority, “What if a deadly organism is brought back from one of the other missions?”

Dr. Brooks answered calmly, “We’re positive that won’t happen, especially after the astronauts and lunar material from the Apollo 11 mission were tested and cleared. However, we will still take the same precautionary measures on all future missions until otherwise advised.”

The senator persisted, wanting an answer to his question. “What if something deadly is found on a later mission?”

The doctor folded his arms as he shot the senator a frustrated look. Bluntly, he said, “In the worst case scenario, this building would be buried under dirt, sacrificing all the lives inside.”

Hearing that harsh reality from the director caused Tom to stop for a moment. Wow, kill the returning astronauts. Though Tom was convinced no such deadly organism existed, being exterminated to avoid spreading contagion from outer space was still a scary thought. He shook his head as he resumed his search. He peered around the side of the last glove box. He swallowed hard when he saw the black safe sitting on the floor in a well-lit corner of the room. It was about the size of a small refrigerator. It seemed to be summoning him. There you are, you little rascal. While the men continued talking, Tom studied the surrounding area, trying to figure out the best way to carry out the heist. He discreetly undid a few buttons on his lab coat, allowing easy access to one of the large pockets of his flight suit.

Tom snapped to attention hearing a crackling voice blare out of the intercom speakers above. “Dr. Brooks, there is an urgent call for Senator Olson. He can take it in room 33.”

The cue gave Tom goose bumps. He looked over to see who was going to escort the senator out, eliminating him as his accomplice.

Surprisingly, Gerald spoke up. “Senator, follow me. I’ll take you over to where the phone is.”

The senator looked peeved. As he turned to follow Gerald, he said, “Damn it. Sorry about this, gentlemen.”

As the men left, Tom looked over to the doctor and Walter, both standing in awkward silence, staring right back at Tom. He did his best to flash a relaxed smile even though his heart was practically pounding out of his chest. With the clock started, his ride to the moon hung in the balance. He needed to make a move, but he couldn’t with two men in the room.

Finally, Dr. Brooks broke the stillness as he rubbed his gloved finger along one of the white counter tops. “Walter, are there any sterile gloves in here?”

Walter pointed toward the entrance. “I think there are some in the other room.”

Tom darted his gaze nervously back and forth between the two men, trying to figure out who was working with him.

Without saying another word, Dr. Brooks turned and exited.

Was Walter his man? He was the last one Tom would have suspected. With the senator returning soon, Tom had to know. He wiggled his eyebrows in Walter’s direction hoping for some kind of a signal. The man looked amused as he simply smiled before wheeling around on the heels of his shoes, positioning his back toward Tom.

Wow, he turned around. Maybe he is in on the plan. Tom shifted nervously on the balls of his feet. It was now or never if he wanted to walk on the moon. I’m doing this. As he turned toward the safe, Dr. Brooks called out from the other room.

“Walter, can you come in here a second?”

Tom abruptly halted. Is it Dr. Brooks? He was now totally confused.

Walter answered, “Sure.” He left the room, never looking back.

It didn’t matter who was in on the plan, the room was empty and this was Tom’s only shot. He leaped to the floor in front of the safe and clutched the handle, yanking down hard. The damn thing didn’t budge.

Shit! Not this. If the safe didn’t open, his moon mission was lost.

Tom held his breath as he rotated the lever in the other direction. A deep sigh of relief escaped him when the handle easily turned, unlocking the safe. He hurriedly opened the metal door, frantically searching through the various shelves for the small, silver metal cylinder. Within seconds he located the one labeled RD and snatched it. The senator’s voice in the other room indicated the men would soon be returning. He hastily pushed the heavy door closed and sprang back to his feet. He took a few steps away, turning his back toward the entrance. He bent over, and ripped open the Velcro flap of a large pocket on his left leg and quickly slipped in the canister before sealing the pouch. As he straightened up, he heard footsteps entering. Not having enough time to button his coat, he instead coolly slipped his hands into the pockets and moved his hands together, covering up the unbuttoned portion of the coat. He turned casually as Dr. Brooks led the group back into the room.

The doctor said excitedly, “Senator, let me show you where we store the rocks.”

Tom smiled in their direction, realizing they were coming over to inspect the safe. When he looked over to the black box, he went into a sudden state of shock seeing the small door was slightly ajar.

Damn it! I didn’t close it all the way!

The open safe was a security breech. The standard procedure for such an incident was to put the whole building into lockdown mode, requiring everyone, no matter who they were, to be physically searched. Somehow he had to close that door before it was noticed, or he was doomed—but how?

He looked back over to see the men less than eight feet away trucking right at him. He fought the impulse to panic as his mind began spinning, trying to figure out what to do. Suddenly it hit him. As Dr. Brooks approached, Tom shuffled his feet backward to get out of their way then purposely tripped over his own feet, appearing to fall awkwardly backward toward the safe. He intentionally extended his arm behind him to make it look like he was trying to soften the blow. But instead, as his body hit the ground hard, his arm slammed onto the vault door, closing it shut tight. He brushed the handle with his arm as he fell past, re-latching it.

Dr. Brooks and Gerald rushed around the corner to help Tom up. “Are you okay?”

Though Tom felt a little dazed, he couldn’t have been happier. “I’m fine, just a little embarrassed, I guess.”

As Gerald helped Tom up, he overheard the senator saying in a patronizing voice. “That’s one of our astronauts?”

Tom just smiled.

TOM LET OUT a deep sigh as he reached his desk, relieved to have the lunar sample safely in his pocket and to be free of the senator. He looked at his watch. It was 5:10. Taking David to the tire shop was the perfect excuse to leave the office and put the stolen container securely in his home safe. He figured he would return later to meet with Dick and inform his boss of the successful heist.

Tom’s best shot at sneaking the metal canister off the grounds was putting it in his briefcase, but he first had to get it in there without being seen. He scanned the other desks to check if anyone was looking in his direction. Satisfied the coast was clear, he set his briefcase on his desk and lifted the lid. He then opened his desk drawer and grabbed some paperwork to help cover up the container when he removed it from his pocket. He took a final look around before bending down and pulling open his pants pocket flap. He slowly pulled out the canister, ensuring it stayed hidden behind the paper. As he slowly rose, he was startled by David’s voice from behind.

“What’s ya doing, Tom?”

Without thinking, Tom set the container in his desk drawer with the paperwork on top and quickly closed the drawer. He spun around with a determined look. “Getting ready to go. Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten I’ve got to get you to the tire shop.”

David appeared irritated. “Where have you been?”

Tom didn’t blink as he looked David squarely in the eyes. “I told you this morning, I had to show a senator around. But I’ll be ready to leave in a second.”

“Stu has a quick question for you about his spacewalk. Do you have a moment?”

Stu Bailey was the CMP on the same backup crew as David. Since their crew was probably rotating into an “I” mission, Stu would be required to do a deep space EVA to retrieve the scientific cameras on the outside of their spacecraft. Since Tom was one of the few astronauts to have done a spacewalk, Stu probably felt Tom could answer his question. Frustrated, Tom had to close his briefcase without the canister in it. He took a quick glance down at his desk drawer ensuring it was shut tight. “Sure.” He would try transferring the canister again when he finished with Stu. Tom followed David down the hallway.

When Tom returned to his desk ten minutes later, he was anxious to get the container into his briefcase and get the stolen property off NASA grounds. David had walked over to his own desk to retrieve his belongings so the two could leave together. Tom whisked through the exercise again. He opened his briefcase and took a quick glimpse around to verify it was safe to transfer the container. Certain no one was looking, he opened his drawer.

Tom’s heart stopped as he froze in shock. No lump lay under the paperwork.

Frantically he lifted the paper, which only substantiated his fears. The canister was gone. What! Where the hell is it?

14

LOST SECRET

Damn it, where are you? Tom’s stomach churned as he started rummaging desperately through his desk drawer in a mad search for the canister, hoping for a small miracle; that it might appear.

An unexpected poke in Tom’s back caused him to jump. He swiveled around to see David towering over him empty handed, not ready to leave. He had a peculiar smirk.

“What are you doing, Tom?”

Tom tried to keep his cool. “Nothing.”

David gave the impression he was trying to peer over Tom’s shoulder into the drawer. “Did you see anything in there?”

That was an odd question from his suddenly nosy friend. Did David see the canister earlier? Nervously, Tom pushed in the drawer behind him. “In where? The drawer? No, why?”

“Then what are you doing?”

Why the twenty questions? Something was up. Tom answered with a logical response. “I’m looking for my keys so I can get you to the tire shop by 5:30.”

David continued to search around Tom’s desk.

Tom cocked an eyebrow. “What are you looking for?”

A sudden upset expression appeared on David’s face. He said, in an uncharacteristic grumble, “Nothing. I need to get something off my desk before we leave. I’ll meet you at your car.” Then he stormed off.

Rubbing his chin, Tom was convinced David’s strange behavior probably involved the canister.

Of the handful of desks near Tom, only a few were occupied. After a final unsuccessful search of his drawer, he quickly scrambled around asking those astronauts close by if they had seen anyone around his desk. They all answered “no,” but one said it with a sly grin. Something was going down, and Tom hoped it was just an innocent joke. Regardless, he had to come up with a plausible story of why he was in possession of a sealed LRL canister. He noted the time was 5:25. David was probably his best source for answers. He quickly snagged his keys and hurried to his car. If David didn’t have any insight, Tom was in trouble.

Tom hustled over the hot asphalt parking lot in the early evening heat toward his blue Stingray. David was already standing by the car, looking restless, rocking on the balls of his feet. Tom observed a cardboard box on the ground next to David.

Impatiently, David called out, “Tom we’ve got to get going. It’s already 5:30.”

With the magnitude of what was going on, getting his friend to the tire shop was the least of Tom’s concerns. “I’ll have you there in five minutes. I’m sure you’ll still be able to get your car.”

Sweating bullets within his flight suit, Tom jumped in and immediately started up the engine. He attributed the perspiration to his frayed nerves as he cranked on the air conditioner full blast. David entered and set the medium-sized box on his lap.

Tom noticed cut holes along the sides of the cardboard container. He rolled down his window. “What’s that?”

“It’s my son’s pet snake.”

Maybe this was part of some practical joke and why the canister is missing. Tom arched an eyebrow. “What the hell are you doing with a snake?”

“It was supposed to scare the shit out of you. I wanted to get you back for building that damn brick wall at my front door.”

Right away Tom had a good inkling where the reptile’s ultimate destination was to have been. He kept his cool as he checked his rearview mirror and backed up the car. “Where were you going to put it?”

“In your desk drawer. I’ve been planning this for weeks. But Dusty screwed it up.”

Tom’s hunch was right, and hopefully Dusty had the canister. He pushed in the clutch and jammed the stick shift into first gear and headed out of the parking lot. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. At the last minute, Dusty got called away from his desk. He asked Chris to deliver the snake while I escorted you out. But for some reason, the idiot didn’t do it.”

Hearing Riddick could have the lunar material caused Tom to tighten his grip on the steering wheel. He did his best to stay calm. “Did Chris go to my desk?”

“No, he gave me some lame excuse why he forgot. I think he’s full of shit. I don’t know why he didn’t do it, but it was a major challenge to get this snake out of the house. My son begged me not to take it. Joan even complained. So I pretty much blew my one opportunity.”

Tom was now certain Chris had the canister and probably didn’t put the snake in his desk so as to avoid leaving any evidence someone had opened the drawer. Tom couldn’t come across as being upset. He casually rolled up his window once cool air from the vents hit him in the face. He cracked a smile. “That would have definitely shocked the hell out of me. Too bad it didn’t work. I hate snakes.”

“I know.” David looked out his window. “Chris is an idiot.”

The Corvette’s engine roared as Tom pressed the pedal to the floor, racing across NASA 1 toward the tire shop. He had to get back to the office before Chris smuggled the material off the grounds.

When Tom returned to Building 4, he quickly vaulted up the stairs two at a time to the third floor level, where the astronauts’ offices were. He first stopped off at his desk to pick up his briefcase, ensuring he had a way to sneak the container from Chris’s office if he in fact had it. With his case in hand, Tom rushed down the corridor. A silhouette burst around the corner holding a briefcase. Once the man entered the brightly lit hallway, Tom could see it was Chris. Tom’s heart skipped a beat knowing he had almost missed the man.

Chris approached, a composed expression on his face. “Hey, Tom.”

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Tom tried to keep his emotions in check. “Chris, I need to talk to you for a moment.”

Not stopping, Chris said, in a quiet, yet frank tone, “Sorry, buddy, I’m late for an appointment. Can it wait until tomorrow?”

Tom grabbed Riddick’s arm and wrapped his fingers tightly around it as he passed, halting him dead in his tracks. “This can’t wait.”

Chris sighed. “Okay, but please make it quick.”

Seeing an empty conference room across the hall, Tom shoved Chris in that direction. “Let’s go in there.”

Chris reluctantly entered the room. Tom closed the door behind them and placed his briefcase on the conference table.

Chris looked unnerved. “What’s this all about?”

Riddick’s relaxed body language had Tom guessing whether the ass actually had the valuable treasure. Either he doesn’t have it or he’s one cool customer. Tom was blunt, saying in a strong and direct tone, “Do you have something of mine?”

The smug look on Chris’s face disappeared. Suddenly he came across as a kid who just got his hand caught in the cookie jar. “What are you talking about?”

The abrupt change in demeanor convinced Tom this was his man. “Did you take something out of my desk?”

Appearing to toy with Tom, Chris tried to cleverly turn the tables on the space veteran. “Why? What are you missing?”

Not biting, Tom assumed the material was in Chris’s briefcase. He took a calculated gamble. “I was told you went to my desk to put a snake in the top drawer, but instead you took something out. I want it back.”

Sticking out his chest arrogantly, Chris started moving toward the door. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I need to get going.”

Tom thrust out his hand, blocking the man’s path. Tom wanted proof. “You aren’t going anywhere until you open your briefcase.”

Jerking the hand down, Chris challenged Tom’s authority. “Who are you to search my briefcase? I don’t have to answer to you.”

By sheer force of will, Tom kept himself from snapping. He took in a deep and calming breath as he folded his arms across his body. “You’re right. I don’t have the authority, but I can still alert security and insist they check it.”

Chris stepped back. “You’re bluffing.”

With that comeback, Tom knew he had his guy. He stared directly into Chris’s eyes without blinking. “Try me.”

Not saying a word, Chris turned and walked over to the conference table. He calmly laid his briefcase down and took a seat. Resting his arms on top of the case, he said in a cocky tone, “Yes, I do have the LRL canister.”

“Give it back!”

Chris patted the seat next to him. “Sit down, Tom. Let’s discuss this.”

Taking any kind of direction from this asshole was the last thing Tom wanted to do. But he sucked in his pride and took a seat. “You don’t want to get involved in this. Give me the canister and I’ll forget you took it.”

“Not until I get some answers. What the hell are you doing with moon rocks anyway? I’m pretty sure it’s a felony offense and you could go to prison.”

Tom had prepared a story. He drew in a sharp breath. “The canister is empty.”

“Bullshit. I know that when these things are sealed with a small weld they contain lunar samples. Besides, the label on the side is officially signed, stamped and dated, stating the rocks are from Apollo 11. You can’t fool me.”

Tom was caught. He never had a chance to study the canister. He had to come up with another story, and quick. “Okay, you’re right.” His mind started racing. “Yes, it has lunar material in it.” He inhaled deeply as he looked toward the front of the conference room, trying not to stumble over his words. “Someone in the lab owed me a favor and got me the sample in secret at my request.” Suddenly a light flipped on in his head. He turned with confidence. “I have been dying to know if there is water on the moon, and I’m not convinced NASA will make the information public. So I wanted to inspect a small sample with my microscope at home. I planned on returning the material early tomorrow morning to my friend so it won’t be noticed missing.”

Chris studied Tom for a moment. He didn’t look convinced. “I doubt you’re telling me the truth, and to be honest, I really don’t care. I tell you what. I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you back your precious canister and won’t say anything, on one condition.”

Tom was stunned Chris was trying to proposition him. The man was in no position to negotiate. Tom fought the impulse to raise his voice in anger. “What’s that?”

Chris sat back. “You split whatever is inside with me.”

What? Chris is asking to steal moon rocks? Tom was shocked. How could a NASA astronaut be thinking of such a crazy scheme? “I can’t do that—you know they keep track of all the lunar material down to the milligram. They will know some is missing, which will lead to a major investigation. There is no way we could get away with it.”

“You already stole some, which is supposedly impossible. I bet you and your friend could figure something out.”

Tom looked at Riddick like he was insane. “You’re crazy. It’s out of the question. Both my friend and I could go to jail.”

Chris’s green eyes stayed defiant. “Looks like you already took that risk, doesn’t it?”

Growing impatient, Tom said in a commanding voice, “Forget it. There is no way I’m doing it. Besides, if I were caught, I promise you, I would implicate you. So give it up and pass over the canister.”

Chris looked toward the chalkboard for a moment. “Okay, then you have to do something for me. Since your part of management, I want you to get me into the rotation. Otherwise, I’ll spill the beans.”

First Chris wanted to steal moon rocks, now he was threatening blackmail. Tom already had a low impression of the man, but the ass just hit an all-time low. Tom still had to make certain the sleaze didn’t talk. “Okay. You hand over the canister and I’ll talk to Dick and see what I can do. But you have to promise me not to tell anyone about this.”

“You have my word as a friend.”

Friend? Are you kidding me? You’re the last person I would call a friend.

Chris continued. “But I need to have proof you’re working on my behalf.”

“How do I know I can trust you? Especially after telling Anne about the blonde I took into my hotel room.”

A flustered look crossed Chris’s face and he said apologetically, “Sorry about that. It accidently slipped out when I bumped into her. She seemed to suspect it, and I tried to convince her otherwise, but she eventually caught me in a lie. I did my best to cover for you. Regardless, you can trust me. You take care of me and I’ll take care of you.”

Tom didn’t believe a word the man said. “I’ll talk to Dick and somehow you will get your proof.”

Chris opened his briefcase and slid the canister over. “Sounds like we have a deal.” He winked. “I’d be curious how your little study goes.”

Snapping up the cylinder, Tom shoved it into his briefcase. Just before leaving he turned and glared at the conniving man. “By the way, stay away from my wife.”

“DID YOU GET IT?”

Tom watched Dick walk back to his desk after locking his office door. “It wasn’t easy. Nothing went as planned.”

Dick fell back hard into his chair. “What happened?”

“There were three guys, not two.”

Dick shot him a surprised look. “Really? You should have called it off right then.”

“I considered it, but things eventually worked out. I have the canister in my safe.”

“Good, I knew I could count on you.”

“But we have a problem.”

Dick leaned forward. “What’s that?”

“Chris Riddick knows I have the canister.”

“How?”

“Long story, but he found it in my desk drawer.”

“Did he quiz you on it?”

“He did. I came up with a lame excuse, but I doubt he bought it. I don’t trust the guy.” Tom looked at the door before turning to his boss. “You should know he wanted to extort some of it. He even threatened me, saying he would tell if I didn’t give him half of the contents in the container.”

Dick’s eyes widened until they were as big as saucers. “You’re kidding me. Chris wanted some of the lunar material?”

“It shocked me too. I told him no way in hell.”

Dick looked out his window over a long, silent beat. He slowly turned back to Tom. “I can’t believe one of my men would seriously consider stealing from NASA. Are you sure he wasn’t joking?”

“I’m sure.”

“Then we do have a problem. I would fire him on the spot, but we can’t risk him telling anyone, and there is no way I am assigning him to a mission now.”

“Well, then you have another problem.”

Dick clenched his jaw. “What’s that?”

“I had to make a deal. I promised I’d talk to you about getting him into the rotation. Otherwise he said he would talk.”

Dick started shaking his head. “I can’t believe this. Man, he had me fooled.”

“You weren’t the only one.”

“How can I assign him to a mission now? I don’t trust the guy.” Dick swiveled his chair and looked back out the window. The soft taps of his fingers bouncing on his desk were the only sounds. Finally, Dick turned with a determined look. “I know what we can do. I just learned how we plan to pass over the stolen material to the Soviets. We’ll announce that a future joint space mission is being considered between the two countries. The plan is for you to meet with some cosmonaut in a neutral country to hype up the idea, and that’s where the transaction will take place. Maybe I’ll tell Chris he will be a part of that mission since I doubt it’ll ever happen.”

“So I’m going to pass the lunar material on directly to a cosmonaut?”

“That’s the plan. Now that you have it in your possession, I should be getting the full details soon.”

“Are you thinking of having Chris join me?”

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s a bad idea. He would have eyes on me the whole time.”

“You’re probably right. But if I assign him to the mission, he might wonder why he isn’t going.”

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”

15

A BAD MAN

The metal shopping cart was positioned perfectly up against the station wagon, ensuring it wasn’t going anywhere. Overhead, thick dark clouds had developed, blocking the hot August sun and giving promise of an early afternoon thunderstorm. In an effort to beat the first raindrops, Anne quickly loaded the last few paper bags of groceries into her car’s backseat. Peter was sitting in the cart intently studying his new box of cereal. After the last bag was in, Anne tried to take the box, but Peter stubbornly pulled it away, not wanting to give it up.

Smiling at her four-year-old, Anne realized she needed to be more persuasive. Possibly if she treated him like a helper, he would relinquish it. “Tell you what Peter, how about you help Mommy and you put your cereal in the car.” That seemed to do the trick. Holding on to the box, the boy raised his free arm, looking for assistance out of the cart. Anne reached in, feeling every ounce of the boy’s forty-pound weight as she lifted him. “You are not getting any lighter, young man.” She gently set her son down on the asphalt before pointing toward the backseat. “Now put the cereal inside the car.”

Peter hesitated for a moment.

Anne gave her son a stern look. “Peter.”

The boy abandoned the fight and turned to put the box inside. Anne pushed the cart over to the front of the car before walking back. Peter had set the box on the seat in such a way that he could keep looking at it. Anne tenderly moved her son to the side and picked up the box, placing it in one of the bags. When she closed the door she was shocked to see a pair of arms suddenly trap her against the car. She turned and was surprised to see Chris Riddick, standing inches from her, his arms strategically placed to prevent her from escaping. She kept her composure as she asked coldly, “Can I help you, Chris?”

Chris had an intense stare. “I thought we had a deal.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You promised me you weren’t going to tell Tom about what happened at my place.”

Feeling uncomfortable, Anne pressed an arm against his, signaling she wanted to get free from his entrapment, but Chris wouldn’t budge. She responded strongly, “I didn’t tell Tom anything.”

“You know that was an innocent pass. I was only trying to comfort you. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Anne put her hands on Chris’s chest and attempted to push. But nothing happened. She was getting nervous. “Chris, let me go.”

“You know I caught your husband doing something illegal. I can end his career. Even have him put in jail.”

Having no idea what the man was talking about, Anne questioned if it was even true. She looked Chris directly in the eye. “What are you saying? Are you threatening me?”

“Not exactly, but you can guarantee it will stay a secret.” Chris moved in dangerously close. His breath feathered her lips. “You are so beautiful.”

Turning her face away, Anne pushed back hard against Chris’s chest, trying to break free. “Let me go, Chris.”

Peter cried out, “Let Mommy go.”

Anne saw Peter pulling on Chris’s pants. Chris easily kicked his leg free from the little boy’s grasp. Anne angrily looked up to see a sinister look in Chris’s eyes. He looked determined to kiss her. She had no choice but to attack the man, and she knew exactly where. She took a hold of his shirt with both hands, allowing her to put all of her weight on one foot. She lifted the other, and with all of her might, powered her knee as hard as she could into Chris’s crotch, pulling on his shirt for maximum effect.

Bull’s-eye. Chris instantly dropped his arms as he let out a loud groan, doubling over in pain. Hearing the man cry out brought a sense of satisfaction to Anne as she hurriedly grabbed Peter and tossed him onto the front seat of the car before jumping behind the wheel. She quickly locked the door. Starting up the car, she looked out her window to see Chris still bent over. You deserved that, you bastard.

Anne sped out of the parking lot. When she stopped at a red light, her hands were trembling.

“Are you okay, Mommy?”

Looking over to her little protector, Anne said lovingly, “I am, thanks to you, Son.”

A big smile appeared on Peter’s face.

Placing a hand gently on his leg, Anne squeezed. “You were very brave back there.”

“Was that a bad man, Mommy?”

“Yes, Son. That was a very bad man.”

“WE HAVE A PROBLEM.”

Tom looked across Dick’s desk with concern. “What’s that?”

“I called in Chris earlier today to tell him he would be part of the joint mission with the Soviets. Though he was excited, I was surprised when he still told me about the lunar sample you had.”

Tom couldn’t believe his supposed “friend” had already broken his promise. “Why in the world did he do that?”

“Good question. Maybe he was afraid the canister might be discovered and he could be connected, or he just has issues with you.”

“What did you say?”

“I was caught off guard. I didn’t know what to say. However, the less I said, the more he rambled on. I eventually told him thanks for informing me and to keep it a secret until I was able to look into it.”

Tom started shaking his head. “We can’t trust the guy. Here you offer him an assignment, which proves I’ve talked with you, and he still shoots off his mouth. You’re right. We do have a problem.”

“Well, I think I’ve figured out how to solve it.”

“How?”

“We will…”

Suddenly Dick was cut off by a voice coming out of the desk intercom. “Mr. Stanton, Chris Riddick is here to see you.”

Tom opened his mouth in protest.

Dick put a hand up signaling Tom to sit tight while he pressed the talk button. “Send him in.”

After Dick released the button, Tom wondered what his boss was up to. “Did you request him to your office?”

“I did, but I didn’t expect him so soon.”

“What are we going to say?”

“Don’t worry, just follow my lead.”

A knock sounded on the door before Riddick opened it. He entered with his usual cocky expression. Once he noticed Tom, Chris hesitated for a moment, looking as if he had seen a ghost.

Dick pointed to the chair. “Welcome, Chris, please close the door and have a seat.”

After slowly shutting the door, Chris narrowed his eyes at Dick as he lowered himself into the chair.

Tom just smiled. He couldn’t imagine what was going through the man’s head.

“Chris, I called you here to discuss the LRL canister you saw in Tom’s possession.”

Tom had no idea where Dick was going and saw by Riddick’s uneasy reaction, neither did he.

“You stumbled onto a covert operation. One which I wasn’t ready to open up to you about this morning.”

Tom looked at Chris. Is Dick actually going to tell him about the operation?

Speaking with confidence, Dick continued, “Management caught wind of someone within the agency who was secretly asking questions about how to acquire lunar material. There was concern this person might be looking to steal some. After further investigation it was learned an international buyer had been lined up. Because of the seriousness of the crime, the CIA was called in. Tom was recruited as part of a sting operation.”

Chris’s mouth was agape as he looked over at Tom.

Mashing his lips together, Tom did his best to keep a straight face as he nodded toward Chris.

“Tom was in the process of passing over the LRL canister to the individual when you found it.”

Chris leaned forward. “Who’s the guy?”

“That’s information you don’t need to know.”

Chris nodded acceptance.

“You should know that the canister was empty. It was set up to look official to convince the suspect.” Dick leaned back in his chair. “I’m telling you this only because I just heard some very disturbing news. I was informed earlier today after assigning you to the Apollo/Soyuz mission that you may have tried to steal some of that lunar material.”

Chris slumped deep into his chair, glaring toward Tom.

Not acknowledging the stare, Tom hoped Dick wasn’t giving up his informant.

“Tom happened to be wearing a wire in an effort to record the culprit during the transaction. In reviewing the tape, we found that the conversation between you and Tom had been recorded. It sounds like you were propositioning Tom to split the rocks with you. Unfortunately, the recording is garbled and we were unable to establish exactly what was being said. I just asked Tom if you had said this, and he denied you had.”

Biting his tongue, Tom did everything possible to keep from cracking a smile. Wow! Good story, Dick.

Chris shot Tom a relieved look.

Dick slapped a hand hard on the desktop causing Chris to jump. “But you should know I’m not convinced. I think Tom is trying to protect a friend. I have been told the CIA has the technical knowhow to clear up that recording. But because it’s a costly undertaking, they’re holding off until it is deemed necessary.”

Chris snapped to attention as he raised both hands. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, and I am unaware of anyone wanting to steal moon rocks.”

Dick stared at Chris for a moment. “Have you discussed this with anyone outside this room?”

“Absolutely not!”

“I pray you are telling the truth. If I hear you have discussed this in any way with anyone before or after you leave this room, I will assume you are somehow involved. I will recommend the CIA clean up that tape. If you made those incriminating remarks, I can guarantee you will be going to prison for a very long time.”

“I won’t say a word to anyone. I promise.”

Tom eyed the squirming ass. Right, we’ve heard that before.

“All right, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and allow you to stay on the Soviet mission. But because I’m not fully convinced you are telling the truth, I’m not having you participate in an upcoming public relations trip for the mission.” Dick turned toward Tom. “Tom, you will be the one to go, teaming up with U.S. diplomats. The meeting will take place next month in Geneva. The Soviet cosmonaut you will be meeting with is…,” Dick slipped on his reading glasses before scanning over a paper on his desk. “Viktor Alexandrov.”

Since his boss mentioned the lunar material would be passed directly to a cosmonaut, Tom assumed this was his man.

Dick removed his glasses. “This is basically a big photo opportunity to hype up the mission and show that the two countries are gearing up for a working relationship in space.” Dick closed his file. “Tom, I’ll fill you in on the full details later this week.”

“Got it.”

“All right, gentlemen, that’s all I have.” Dick leaned far over his desk, looking Chris squarely in the eye. “I assume we are all clear on what’s expected of us?”

“Yes, sir. Crystal clear.”

As the two astronauts left the office, Chris put his arm around Tom and quietly whispered, “Thanks for the help getting me on that mission.” Chris looked around to confirm no one was within earshot. “And keeping quiet on what I said in the conference room.”

Tom’s voice was flat and emotionless. “We made a deal, and I stick to my word. I expect you to do the same.” Before Chris could answer Tom darted in the opposite direction to avoid walking with the ass.

BEAT AFTER THE long day, Tom was pleased to be home. He fell back on the couch and kicked off his shoes.

“Here’s your martini, sweetie.”

Tom looked up to see Anne holding his savior for the night. He reached for the drink. “That’s exactly what I needed.”

Anne sat next to him. She pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

Tom figured this was as good a time as any to tell her about his upcoming trip. “Looks like I’ll be going to Geneva in a few weeks to promote a possible joint mission with the Russians.”

Anne perked up. “Really? With the enemy? Wow! Will you be flying it?”

“Don’t know. So far Chris Riddick is the only one assigned.”

Anne raised an eyebrow before taking a long drag from the cigarette. She slowly blew the smoke toward the center of the room. “So you might be teaming up with him?”

“I sure hope not. That guy is one cocky son-of-a-bitch. He’s one astronaut I can’t stand.”

Anne crinkled her forehead and turned away, a sign something was troubling her. Tom reached for her arm. “Did I say something wrong?”

Anne set her lit cigarette in the ashtray and paused for a moment. Anxiety lent an edge to her voice. “I’ve been keeping something from you.”

“What’s that?”

Anne looked over, sadness growing steadily in her eyes. “Chris made a pass at me.”

Tom’s grip tightened around the martini glass thinking of Riddick making a move on his wife. Struggling to keep his emotions in check, Tom angrily asked, “When?”

Anne gave a reluctant sigh as she opened up guardedly, her voice barely audible. “It happened when I went to his home to pick something up.”

Tom set his glass down. He assumed that something was the Snoopy toy. “You were at his apartment? Did he play the piano?”

Anne nodded with a curious expression.

“I bet it was a Beethoven song, the only tune the ass knows. In fact, it’s a big joke among the guys. It took him a whole year to learn that song. He likes to brag that the girls eat it up when he plays it. He claims they’re putty in his hands when he finishes. I’m sure his goal the whole time was to hit on you.”

Anne turned away in disgust, probably for falling for the charade. Her voice was intense. “He’d been going on about the blonde he caught you with and…”

It was Chris who told Anne about Connie.

“…it was all a big mistake. I let him get close, and…he kissed me.” A tear slid down her cheek. “I immediately left. I hate that he was able to manipulate me.”

Anger raged within Tom at the thought of Chris putting his lips on his wife’s. Satisfied it was only a kiss, Tom gently wiped the tear off her face. He needed to show his trust in her. “Sweetheart, I don’t blame you. I blame Chris. I know it didn’t mean anything.”

With fire in her eyes she exclaimed, “It didn’t mean a damn thing. I was confused and just wanted out of there.”

Tom gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. “I know. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Chris crossed the line. I’ll teach him a lesson.”

Anne grabbed his arm. “No, honey. Don’t do anything stupid. It’s not worth it. Think of your career.”

“My career? Don’t worry about that. I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize that.”

Suddenly Anne’s eyes narrowed and her lips compressed. “Chris told me you were involved in something illegal.”

Damn it! Riddick can’t keep his mouth shut. Furious, Tom asked, “What? When did he tell you that?”

“Does it matter?”

Tom needed to know if the incident happened after Dick’s ultimatum. “Yes.”

“Day before yesterday, when I ran into him again at the store. He didn’t tell me what it was. I think he was trying to intimidate me.”

At least it was before their meeting. “Intimidate? Why?”

Anne shook her head. “I don’t know. He’s just a bad man.”

Tom couldn’t wait to put his hands on Riddick and straighten the ass out. “Don’t believe anything that jerk says. Yes, I’m involved in a top-secret operation, which Chris knows nothing about. He stumbled upon something and thought he knew what was going on. But he has his facts wrong and is out of the loop. Unfortunately, that’s all I can tell you.”

“Should I be worried?”

“No.”

16

GENEVA, SWITZERLAND

The flashbulbs going off in a staccato effect blinded Tom as he shook Viktor Alexandrov’s hand. Tom struggled with the fact he was cozying up with the enemy while American families were building bunkers back home out of fear the Soviets would drop an atomic bomb at any moment. He forced a smile as he held the pose for the cameras. An American astronaut publicly shaking the hand of a Soviet cosmonaut was big news, especially as the Cold War escalated and the two countries fought for space supremacy.

Despite having sat next to Viktor while answering questions for the media about a possible joint mission between the two countries, Tom still hadn’t been able to speak directly to the cosmonaut. Ever since entering the hotel conference room, there seemed to be two separate camps. The Americans, all in coats and ties, were on one side. The Soviets, mostly dressed in military uniforms, were on the other.

Tom had been hesitant about approaching Viktor due to the Soviet men in uniforms constantly surrounding him. Tom had no idea if these men were aware of the secret transfer that was to take place, especially since none of the Americans in the room knew. He decided to play it safe and wait for Viktor to make the first move. With the meeting coming to an end, Tom needed to get a coded statement from Viktor validating he was a part of the operation before Tom could turn over the lunar material. He had his own coded message he was to reply with.

While the cameramen continued to take pictures, an American diplomat stepped in front of all, waving his arms as he spoke over the loud clicking sounds. “That’s it, gentlemen, thank you for coming.”

As the bright flashes subsided, Tom let go of Viktor’s hand. Soon the press were gathering up their belongings and heading toward the exit.

While the commotion unfolded in front of them, Viktor leaned over and whispered, “My boy vant go Disneyland for see Mickey Moose.”

Tom swallowed hard. Even with the heavy Russian accent, Tom recognized the confirming code. He was surprised the cosmonaut had gone straight to the code message without any small talk. Tom assumed it was because Viktor was free of the men escorting him. Tom cleared his throat before countering with his own scripted reply. “Your son can even meet Donald Duck and Goofy.”

Viktor smiled. For the first time, Tom got a good look at the man’s face and detected nothing sinister about the cosmonaut. Instead, Tom saw a happy and joyful expression. Tom glanced over at the other Soviet men standing close together in the corner of the room, intently eyeing Viktor. Tom was instructed to pass over the lunar material directly to Viktor in the privacy of his room. He figured this was as good a time as any to attempt the transaction. Leaning toward the cosmonaut, Tom asked, “Would you like to get out of here and have a drink?”

Viktor nodded. “Dah.”

“Can you go alone?”

“Dah, but please vait.” Viktor turned and walked over to his keepers. After a brief conversation, Viktor returned, straightening his tie. “Time to vodka.”

Tom smiled at the Russian’s English. He called out to one of the U.S. diplomats. “Freddy, I’m going to have a drink with Viktor.”

The man gave an acknowledging wave.

As the two men left, Tom decided it was best to skip the drink and go straight to his room to pass over the canister. He turned to Viktor. “I need to get something out of my room, if that’s okay. It’s on the first floor.”

Viktor nodded as if knowing the reason. “Dah.”

The two men walked in awkward silence down the long, dimly lit hallway, making Tom uncomfortable. His mind started racing, wondering if Viktor actually was a Soviet cosmonaut. For all Tom knew, the man could be an undercover KGB agent. Tom was well known throughout the space industry for his spacewalk. But there was no public record confirming that Viktor was a cosmonaut, let alone, having ever flown in space. With the Soviets being so secretive, Viktor could hold any title within the USSR.

What if this guy has a gun? Tom was starting to get nervous as they approached his room. He needed to protect himself. But how? Tom looked over at Viktor, who flashed a conspiratorial grin. Tom faced forward and reached into his pocket for his room key. Hey, I’ve seen spy movies. I can figure this out.

Tom opened the door and motioned for Viktor to enter. Tom followed the balding man, closing the door behind them. For a couple of beats both men just stared at each other, neither moving or saying a word.

Viktor broke the silence. “Nyet vodka this room?”

Neither had mentioned anything about the lunar material, and Tom felt funny just blurting it out. “Sorry, I don’t have any alcohol in here. But I do have a package for you.”

“Dah, vhy I here.” Viktor started scoping out the place, as if looking for the canister.

“Viktor, I’m sorry, but I need to pat you down.”

The cosmonaut reacted with surprise, “You spect me KGB?”

Tom didn’t know what he thought, but felt it was the appropriate protocol. He decided to blame his agency. “NASA instructed me to frisk you before handing over the package.”

Viktor casually moved a few steps closer and raised both arms. “Dah.”

In the movies, the detective always frisked the suspect from behind. So, awkwardly, Tom walked around Viktor and, starting just under the Russian’s raised arms, he began patting along the sides of Viktor’s body, not sure what he was looking for. He worked his way down. Reaching the bottom of Viktor’s coat, Tom felt a lump.

“Zat eye glasses.”

Tom reached into the pocket and pulled out a small leather case. He thought it was odd a cosmonaut needed reading glasses. All NASA astronauts had to have 20/20 vision or better to fly. He established it was only glasses before returning the case. After finishing the pat down, Tom motioned toward a small table. “Please have a seat over there.”

Viktor nodded and walked across the carpeted room. Tom headed straight for the closet, reaching behind some clothes for the small briefcase that held the canister. As he approached the table holding the case, Viktor gave a nod, indicating he suspected what was in it.

Tom had been given no instructions on how to pass over the lunar material. Do I just say ‘here you go’? He set the case by his chair and sat down, placing his arms on the table.

Viktor seemed to sense Tom’s uneasiness. The cosmonaut looked around the room. “Nyet vodka?”

It was obvious Viktor liked to drink. Tom again conveyed he didn’t have any by shaking his head no.

Viktor leaned back in his chair. “Umm, is…” The cosmonaut seemed to be struggling on how to say something as he motioned with his hands. “Umm, is you have child?”

Tom settled into the chair and leaned forward. He understood that Viktor was inquiring if he had any children. “I do, a four-year-old boy.”

Viktor’s eyes lit up. “I too, Dmitri. He five. He a little devil.”

Tom smiled. He was starting to relax. “My son’s name is Peter. He has been a good boy so far, but I’m sure he’ll be a handful down the road.”

“Vant more child?”

Tom rubbed his lip. “Maybe someday.”

“I vish a girl. My vife, Maria, she pretty. I know girl pretty.”

Tom was feeling more comfortable with Viktor. He wasn’t acting like some crazy Communist who wanted America destroyed. The short man was becoming more human to Tom, erasing any preconceived notions he had of Russians.

“Maybe our boys meet someday, play.”

Tom seriously doubted that would ever happen, even if the joint mission actually took place. He just smiled at the cosmonaut.

“Spacevalk good?”

Tom sat back, impressed Viktor was inquiring about his Gemini flight. “Like any space mission, there were problems. But it was wonderful. I can’t wait to go back.”

“Maybe you go to moon?”

“Maybe. How about you? Have you been up yet?

“Nyet. I at bottom, but happy I here. I hope fly zis mission. Maybe ve share vodka in space?”

For the cosmonaut’s sake, Tom hoped the joint mission happened, even though Tom doubted he’d be a part of it. “That would be nice.”

Viktor took the pair of thick, black-rimmed glasses out of the case and slipped them on. He said in a more serious tone, “Vhere moon rocks?”

Tom assumed the small talk was over and nodded. He reached down and picked up the briefcase. He gently set the case on the table and slid it over.

Viktor adjusted his glasses slightly and looked at Tom. “Vat code?”

Tom had thought the Soviet was just going to take the case and leave. Tom rambled off the numbers from memory. “9, 2, 9, 6, 1.”

Tom heard soft clicks as Viktor turned the small dials. A sudden loud snap signaled his co-conspirator had entered the numbers correctly.

Viktor lifted open the cover, blocking Tom’s view. After hearing movement within the case, Viktor’s hand reappeared over the top before closing the case. Viktor had a big grin on his face as he removed his glasses. “Zis good. I take to room. Then ve go have vodka.”

17

IT’S OFFICIAL

A sudden fury swept over Tom at the sight of Chris Riddick entering the empty hallway of Building 4 at the Manned Spacecraft Center. Chris had his head down reading paperwork, unaware he was approaching Tom. The two had been on different travel schedules ever since Tom learned Chris had made a pass at Anne. Tom had been forced to suppress the anger while it festered deep within during his time in Geneva, waiting for the moment when he could release his wrath on the man. The opportunity had arrived.

For maximum effect, Tom kept quiet as Chris came closer. At the last second, Tom pounced and shoved his hands hard onto Chris’s chest. The man was caught off guard as he was firmly slammed up against the wall, causing paperwork to fly all over the place. Chris was speechless, stunned by the attack.

Pointing his finger at Riddick, Tom spewed venom as he fiercely shouted, “I thought I told you to stay away from my wife.”

Chris stood motionless for a moment, confused by the assault. “What are you talking about?”

“Anne told me you played that stupid-ass song on your piano and then tried to hit on her.”

Chris’s demeanor unexpectedly changed. He pushed Tom’s hand aside and bent down to pick up his papers.

Overcome with rage by the brush-off, Tom seized Chris strongly by his shirt, forced him back up and pushed him hard against the wall again. This time Tom held on as he stared directly into Chris’s eyes. “This is my last warning—stay away from my wife, or next time I’ll beat the crap out of you. I mean it!” Tom let go, waiting for a response. Not getting one, Tom felt he had gotten his point across. He turned in disgust and headed down the hallway.

When Tom reached Dick’s office, his blood was still boiling. He took a moment to get his emotions in check before entering.

His boss could tell something was up. “You look rattled.”

Tom mopped his brow. “I’m fine.”

Dick closed the file in front of him. “Good. So, sounds like all went well in Switzerland?”

Tom put what just happened in the hallway in the back of his mind as he took a seat. “It did. The transaction unfolded as planned.”

“Good, and no issues with the cosmonaut?”

Leaning back in the chair, Tom crossed his legs. “Nope. In fact, he was actually a pretty swell guy. The two of us ended up at a bar when we finished our business. After a few drinks, even his broken English became easier to understand. We were probably there well over an hour talking about all kinds of stuff, laughing and having a good ole time before he was called away.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. He’s a pilot like you, and I bet he’s even a family man. I doubt he has any hidden political agenda. He just wants to fly in space, which requires following orders passed down by the Communist Party leaders, regardless if he agrees with them or not.”

“You’re probably right.”

“Well I’m glad it all worked out and the two of you got along.” Dick put his hands behind his head as a magnanimous smile appeared on his face.

Tom could tell good news was coming, and he hoped it was what he expected.

“So, are you ready to start working on your mission, Commander?”

Adrenaline surged through Tom, hearing those words. He was finally going to fulfill his dream. He shot up in his chair. “You bet!”

“Good. Have you decided on who you want as your crewmates?”

Without hesitation, Tom shared his thoughts. “I have. I was thinking of Kirk Cooley as the Command Module Pilot and Dusty Robinson as my Lunar Module Pilot.”

Dick looked out his window while tapping a pen on his bottom lip. After a few seconds, he turned around with a relaxed expression. “I like it. Considering what the objectives are for the mission, I think those are good choices. I’ll submit the selections today and let you know what I hear. Once they’re approved, expect your training schedule to increase. You may want to tell Anne you won’t be spending much time at home over the next few years.”

“Don’t worry, she knows the drill.” Tom leaned forward. “So, can I tell her I’ve been selected for Apollo 16?”

“Absolutely. But keep in mind, even if your crew choices are accepted, we probably won’t make an official announcement until sometime next year. So please keep it between the two of you until then.”

Tom understood. He couldn’t wait to get on the phone and tell Anne to buy some champagne to celebrate some wonderful news. He expected her to press him for details over the phone, but he was confident he wouldn’t break under pressure. He wanted to tell her in person that her husband was going to the moon.

ONCE TOM ENTERED the house, Dino was the first to welcome him. He bent down to pet the excited dog. “Buddy, it’s always nice to be greeted by you. And to think you wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for some lion cub.” As he scratched behind the dog’s ear, Tom whispered, “But you know who wears the pants in the family, right?” Tom smiled at his little joke. He looked up, surprised his son wasn’t close behind. Dino rolled over on his back hoping for more scratches. Tom obliged the wiggling dog, giving him a good, hard belly rub. “Dino, where is everybody?”

Tom figured Anne must have stepped out with Peter to pick up the bottle of champagne he had requested. To confirm his guess, he walked into the kitchen to see if there was a bottle in the refrigerator. The sound of the dog’s paws slapping wildly across the linoleum floor broke the silence as he followed his master. Dino bolted straight toward the treat jar on the counter, jumping up on his hind legs, loudly barking at the container. Tom quickly snagged a doggie biscuit and tossed it to the eager dog, quieting the mutt.

When Tom reached the refrigerator he saw a note on the door. He slid the magnet aside, unfolded the paper and read the hand-written message:

Tom, I thought it would be nice to celebrate your good news over a steak dinner. Peter is over at the Grants. Meet me at the Seville Club. Love, Anne.

Tom looked over at the dog chewing his treat. “Looks like I’m eating steak tonight, buddy.” He knelt down and opened a bottom kitchen cabinet where the bag of dog food was kept. Tom quickly scooped out Dino’s dinner, dumping it into a bowl on the floor. “Enjoy, my friend!” As the dog dug in, Tom gave Dino one last pat before hustling out of the kitchen.

Tom knew how much his wife hated sitting alone, so he went straight to his car and raced to the Seville Club. When he entered the elegant restaurant he instantly smelled the cigarladen air. The dimly lit room with its polished cherry wood furnishings and deep, red velvet drapes was a favorite drinking hole for many of the astronauts. Through the smoky haze he began to search the scarcely crowded room for his wife. Unable to locate her at first glance, he walked over to the bar. Maybe she stepped into the bathroom?

Nabbing one of the available leather barstools, Tom took a seat and motioned to the bartender.

The man walked over and set a white paper napkin in front of Tom. “Can I get you a drink?”

Tom answered with a mischievous smile. “Absolutely.” What do I want? He began scanning the bottles on the glass shelves in front of him when he noticed the reflection off the mirror of an attractive blonde sitting alone a few barstools over. “Tell you what, how about a martini.”

“Got it.”

To get a better view of the blonde, Tom decided to do a more thorough search of the room for his wife. He slowly swiveled around on the bar stool until he was facing the pretty lady. He casually checked her out. The blonde had her back to him, smoking a cigarette, wearing a form-fitting white mini dress with white high heels. Nice. He eventually turned his seat around so his back was to the bar. He scanned over the handful of tables in search of Anne, but she was nowhere to be found. Where could she be?

Frustrated, he swiveled back around to find his drink sitting in front of him. As he took a sip, he was surprised to see the blonde had moved one barstool closer, her back still toward him. That’s odd. Without looking too obvious, he took another sip while nonchalantly peering over his glass, studying her. He smiled big when he spotted Anne’s wedding ring on the girl’s hand. This beautiful lady he was ogling was his own wife, wearing a blonde wig. He was tickled pink she actually went through with the crazy idea. He decided to have a little fun. Grabbing his drink, he slid over to the barstool next to her. He moved in close, whispering into her ear, “Hello, beautiful. Can I buy you a drink?”

Without turning, Anne let out a puff of smoke and answered in an uncharacteristically deep and seductive tone. “That would be wonderful. A martini please.”

At that moment, Tom felt amazingly close to Anne. He wanted to hug her right then and tell her how much he loved her, how much he appreciated her little scheme. But instead, he kept his cool and played along. He caught the bartender’s eye, and, pointing to his drink, signaled he wanted another. After the bartender acknowledged the order, Tom turned back. “My wife was supposed to meet me here, but it doesn’t look like she’s coming. I think you’re very attractive, and I have always had a thing for blondes.”

Anne set her cigarette in the ashtray and turned slightly.

Tom got his first glimpse of the big, round sunglasses she was wearing, similar to the Jackie O style of glasses. His grin got bigger.

“I assume your wife isn’t a blonde?”

“Correct. She’s an attractive brunette and she’s a wonderful lady. But sometimes you want to try something new, if you know what I mean.”

Anne turned completely toward him, and her look showed she knew that her cover was blown. “You sound like you love your wife. Is it worth risking all that for one night of fun?”

“Good point. I have an idea. How about we pretend you’re my wife in a blonde wig?”

The bartender arrived with Anne’s drink. She took a sip seductively, before tilting her sunglasses down and looking Tom in the eye. “That’s an interesting concept. Ask me that again after a few martinis.”

Tom couldn’t hold back his news any longer. “Since my wife isn’t here, how about I tell you some exciting news.”

Anne set her drink down. “I’d love to hear it.”

Tom looked around to double-check no one was within earshot, leaned closer to her and whispered, “You are looking at the commander of Apollo 16.”

Anne broke out of character, letting out a high-pitched squeal before jumping off her barstool into his arms. “That’s fantastic news. Congratulations, Tom!”

Hugging his wife, Tom wanted to stay in character. He pulled away with a raised eyebrow. “How do you know my name is Tom?”

She hit him playfully on the chest. “Silly, I know you knew it was me.”

He smiled. “You look nice as a blonde.”

Anne settled back into her chair. “Don’t get too comfortable with it. I just wanted to do something special for you.”

“It was incredibly special and I very much appreciate it. Of course, you look good no matter what.”

Anne took off her sunglasses and flashed him a wink, “Right answer.” She took another sip of her drink and said enthusiastically, “I’m so happy for you. We need to celebrate.”

Tom wiggled his eyebrows. “We will, later tonight. Me and the blonde.”

Anne smiled. “Wow, my husband will be walking on the moon.”

“Yep, and I’m sure he’ll be missing you.”

She put her hand on his leg. “We’ll miss each other. But what an adventure it will be.” Her face turned serious. “Honey, I really have to pee. I’ve been sitting at this bar for almost an hour waiting for you.”

Tom chuckled. “Sorry. I’ll pay the tab so we can go to dinner.”

Leaning over, Anne gave Tom another kiss, this time on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you.” She flashed a seductive grin before slipping her glasses back on. She spun around on the barstool, then hopped off. She patted his knee before walking with a spring in her step toward the restrooms.

With a lecherous grin, Tom watched his wife’s backside sway before he turned back to the bar. The bartender was standing right in front of him casually wiping the inside of a glass with a towel. Tom pulled out his wallet. “I’d like to settle up our bill.”

The bartender leaned over the bar and asked with a smile, “What’s up with those sunglasses on that lady? She’s been in here for over an hour smoking cigarettes. You wonder if she can even see anything with those on.”

Tom smiled. “That’s my beautiful wife, and she has an eye infection.”

“Oh, sorry about that. Sure, bud, I’ll get your tab.”

18

MISS YOU

1972

During the two years since landing the commander slot on Apollo 16, Tom and his crew had been working their butts off training for the moon mission. When the three weren’t training together, Dusty and Tom were working on preparing for the lunar landing and moonwalks, flying all over the country doing specialized training and geological field trips. Their crewmate, Kirk Cooley, was just as busy doing his own training as the Command Module Pilot. With a little over a month before launch, their schedules were getting even more hectic. The reality that the three would soon be circling the moon was starting to set in.

No matter how hard Tom worked, he couldn’t help feeling he was behind on the studying aspect of the flight. He needed to be fully up to speed on the equipment manuals, lunar maps, and star maps as well as becoming a geology expert. The scientific community wanted science to be the number one priority on Apollo 16, putting added pressure on the trained pilot. As the commander, Tom had to make certain his team could carry out all the science-related tasks and still be able to handle emergencies and all other spacecraft duties the mission would require.

Different from the Gemini flight where his main focus had been his spacewalk, Tom was essentially responsible for every aspect of Apollo 16, including two other lives. The gravity of this responsibility motivated him to study during any spare moment he could find. Consequently, he rarely saw his family. Whenever he was home, he was holed up in his office, working. Even with David and Joan patching things up, the nights of playing cards had long ago stopped. As a result, Tom had become a stranger in his own home. Out of necessity, Anne and Peter were forced to get along without him, basically developing their own routine. If a problem came up with the house, the car, or even Peter, Anne took care of it without consulting her husband. She understood he needed the freedom to focus only on his job.

Finally, Tom had set up an opportunity to spend some quality time with his family, even though the underlying reason was still the mission. He had invited Dusty and Jean over for a barbeque. Though Anne knew Dusty’s wife, Jean, from the regular gatherings of the astronaut wives, they weren’t very close. Tom hoped to change that with the get-together. He wanted the ladies to be friends so they could support each other during the moonwalks.

With Beatles music coming softly through the living room screen door, the couples were sitting around the patio table sharing laughs and sipping cold margaritas on the breezy March afternoon.

Jean moved her bangs away from her emerald eyes. “Can you believe it’s been over a year since the Beatles broke up?”

Tom looked at the young-looking woman. “It was only a matter of time. They were all musical geniuses. I betcha each one goes on to have his own successful solo career.”

Anne chimed in. “I remember when their first album came out. I was in college.”

“Me too.” Jean took a sip of her cocktail as she looked across at Anne. “So where did you go to school?”

“University of Texas.”

Jean raised an eyebrow as she set her drink down. “How does a UT girl end up with a boy from Texas A&M?”

Jean obviously knew Texas A&M was the rival to Texas. Tom lifted his hands as if presenting himself. “Could you have turned this down?”

Jean answered jokingly, “Yes, I could have.”

All chuckled as Tom brushed off his ego. “Good. Then I would have still ended up with Anne.”

Jean smiled. “So how did you two meet?”

A sensuous smile brightened Anne’s face as she swept her gaze over to Tom. “Tom was my knight in shining armor, coming to my rescue.”

Dusty piped up, “Did he ride in on a white horse?”

Anne turned. “Not exactly. It was a yellow VW bug. During my freshman year some girlfriends and I were visiting College Station for the Texas game. Afterward we wandered over to a local bar. Some UT guys were being obnoxious and started to hit on us. We decided that we had to get out of there. Some of the boys followed us out of the bar. One of them started harassing me. Tom was sitting in his car at a red light and saw what was going on. He leaned over the empty passenger seat and yelled out his side window for the guy to stop. The boy started getting all macho and told Tom to mind his own business. Tom immediately jumped out of his car, leaving the engine running. He strolled over calmly and got right into the boy’s face. Before doing anything, he looked to me and asked, ‘Sally, are you okay?’”

Dusty chimed in, “Sally?”

Anne smiled and continued, “Yeah. At the time I had no idea where he was going with that, but I played along and nodded yes. Then Tom turned back to the boy and said I was his cousin, and if he messes with me, he messes with him. After a few intense seconds, the boy laughed it off, pretending nothing had happened. Then he told his friends it wasn’t worth it, and they left.”

Dusty said to Tom, “Good thing that guy didn’t know Anne’s name.” He lifted his drink. “Gutsy call, buddy.”

Tom raised his glass in a toast.

Jean licked salt off the rim of her glass and looked over at Tom. “Wow, good for you. After a stunt like that, you would be tough to turn down.”

Tom extended his arms, teasingly presenting himself for a second time.

Anne pushed Tom playfully. “He offered us a ride, but our car was around the corner. The traffic was starting to build up behind his VW, and he said he’d better get going. I could see in his eyes that we had made a connection. Even though he didn’t ask, I quickly wrote my name and number on a piece of paper and handed it to him before he left.”

Tom called out victoriously, “And the rest is history.”

Still looking at Tom, Jean set her glass down. “That’s a great story. By the way, my dad graduated from A&M and speaks very highly of you. He brags about you all the time, proud you’re an Aggie. He was impressed you flew that jet pack, showing up those Commies.”

Tom exchanged a look with Anne. Only they knew the real danger he had been in during that EVA. “That’s nice to hear, especially with all the problems on that mission.” Tom rubbed his finger along the side of his glass, leaving a trail in the condensation. “Actually, I learned a lot from that flight, specifically, to know your limits.” He looked at his wife. “Now that I’m commander, I have to make smart decisions.” He turned back to Joan. “I have two other men and their families to consider.”

“I appreciate you saying that.” Jean reached across the table and patted Tom’s hand. “I’m confident Dusty is in good hands.”

Tom nodded. “He is.” He grasped the pitcher of margaritas and started topping off everyone’s glass. “You know, since your dad sounds like a fan and is a fellow alumnus, I’d be more than happy to give him one of the American flags I carried in my spacesuit during my EVA.”

“Wow! No, you don’t have to do that.”

“It’s no big deal. They’re just sitting up in our closet gathering dust.”

“That would be wonderful. I know he’d love it.”

“Great, I’ll go get one and sign it.” Tom got up. “Does anyone need anything while I’m inside?”

Anne asked, “Can you please make some more margaritas?”

“My pleasure.” Tom grabbed the empty pitcher.

“And check on Peter.”

“Will do.”

As Tom approached the sliding screen door he was able to make out his son’s silhouette on the living room floor. The Robinsons had left their two young children at home with a babysitter, leaving Peter on his own. When Tom slid open the door, he saw little green army men all over the carpet, some on their sides. In the middle of all the action was his seven-year-old son, moving the men around. Dino was off the battlefield, lying on the couch behind Peter.

Over the music, Tom asked, “What’s ya doing, Son?”

“Playing war.”

Like all kids his age, Peter had grown up with the Vietnam War as a major backdrop of his life. “Who’s winning?”

“The Americans.”

“Go Americans.” Tom left the screen door open since he’d be coming back with his hands full. He decided to go retrieve the flag first. He made sure not to disturb any of the army men, carefully walking over to the coffee table and setting down the margarita pitcher. He turned and gave his son a loving pat on his head. “Don’t kill all the enemy soldiers. I don’t want green blood all over the place.”

The boy smiled.

When Tom left the room, Dino leaped off the couch and followed. The dog shot straight past Tom after he opened his bedroom door. Dino jumped onto the bed and did a couple of tight circles, patting down the bedcover before laying down on the flattened spot. With his tongue hanging out and his paws dangling over the backend of the bed, the dog intently stared at Tom.

Sure the flags were in a small tan box on the shelf on Anne’s side of the closet, Tom slid open the wooden door. He was overcome by the clutter. How does she know where anything is? The top shelf was jam packed with boxes. No way could he search the shelf just standing on the floor without knocking boxes over. He needed help. He reached over and grabbed the wooden chair in front of Anne’s makeup table.

Positioning the chair in the center of the open area, Tom stood on the seat, allowing him to see the items on the back of the shelf. While cautiously moving boxes around, he came across a round white box. He wiped his finger along the top, gathering a substantial amount of dust on his fingertip, confirming the box hadn’t been opened for some time. Curious what was inside, he lifted the lid slightly to take a peek. He smiled big when he recognized the blonde wig Anne had worn at Seville’s a few years back. He stared at it for a moment, reflecting on that wonderful evening that seemed like ages ago. That was the night Anne learned he would be flying to the moon. He’d had no idea that, from that point on, his schedule would prevent them from enjoying any more similar romantic evenings. As Tom sadly closed the box, he struggled to remember the last time they had even made love. As he set the box on top of another, he wondered if his excessive drive for a perfect mission was causing him and Anne to drift apart.

Tom continued with his search, moving boxes around until he spotted what he was looking for, the tan box way in the back. It was labeled EVA Flags, handwritten by him in blue ink. Tom had to stand on his tiptoes to reach the little bugger. As he leaned in, his arm was bumping other boxes. Come on, Tom, you can get it. He had no choice but to do a little jump to snag the sucker. He jumped and successfully nabbed it. Yes! As he fell back down on the chair, his arm accidently knocked some of the other boxes, causing one to fall. Pleased he had the flags, he looked down, curious to see what box had dropped. There on the floor was the round white box, knocked open, the blonde wig lying next to it. Dino instantly jumped up on all fours, his tail shooting straight up in the air as he growled.

“It’s okay, Dino. Calm down.” Tom set the box of flags on the end of the shelf. When he turned to climb off the chair, he was shocked to see Dino leap with a killer’s instinct toward the wig. “Dino, no!”

Tom quickly jumped off the chair trying to beat the dog, but he was too late. Dino clamped down hard on the prize, and immediately started shaking it. Tom bent down to grab the wig, but the dog darted away before Tom could get it. “Dino, no! Stop!” Tom was mortified when the defiant dog bolted out the door. Damn! Tom took off after the mutt.

Chasing Dino down the stairs and through the house, Tom was having no luck catching the little rascal. The beagle sprinted across the living room floor, knocking over many of Peter’s army men.

Peter cried out, “Stop it, Dino!”

Dino ignored the boy’s command, shooting straight out the open screen door.

Panicked, Tom rushed past Peter and called out, “Peter, help me catch Dino.”

Dino stood in the center of the yard, shaking the hell out of the wig, blonde hair flying all over the place. Tom looked over and saw a horrified look on Anne’s face.

“Stay, boy.” Tom lifted both hands as he slowly walked toward Dino.

Dusty got up. “Need some help?”

Keeping his eyes focused on Dino, Tom answered, “Yes, we need to get that away from him.”

Dusty started walking toward the dog, on the opposite side from Tom. Dino suddenly stopped all his shaking and peered directly into Tom’s eyes, the blonde wig hanging like a dead animal from his mouth. Dino seemed to be toying with Tom, ready to bolt at any moment. Tom hoped to grab the little scoundrel before he did. “Peter, close the sliding glass door.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

Dusty and Tom had the dog surrounded. Dino stayed focused on Tom as both men slowly moved in.

“Good dog, Dino,” Tom said, just inches from reaching Dino’s collar. Then the dog darted off playfully to the other side of the yard. Dusty, Peter and Tom spent the next five minutes chasing the ornery dog all over the backyard until Dusty finally caught him. Holding Dino steady, Tom was able to seize the thrashed and dirty wig from the dog’s slobbery mouth. He held the wig aloft in a minor celebration. Anne didn’t look happy.

Tom realized he’d messed up. Dejectedly, he took the ragged wig inside the house to get it away from his hyper dog. As Tom passed the patio table he overheard Anne tell Jean, “Oh that was something from our past.”

Tom was disappointed to hear those words. It was as if his wife was embarrassed by the wig and what it stood for. Tom continued into the house, set on tossing the wig in the trash.

Later that night, after saying their goodnights and turning out the lights, Tom rolled over on his back in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Anne’s words still resonated in his head. He turned to see the back of his wife’s head, her hair flowing over her pillow. Their lack of intimacy over the last few years concerned him, making him feel like a stranger in his own bed. They hadn’t really discussed the topic, which made it even more awkward. He leaned over and kissed her on the neck before whispering in her ear. “What did you mean by that comment about the wig?”

Anne grumbled out her response. “What?”

“You made it sound like it was something dirty.”

Anne slowly turned over. “What are you talking about?”

“Do you still love me?”

Anne rubbed her eyes, reached over and gently placed her hand on his face. “With all my heart.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you really do. I know my work has kept me away, but I don’t want to lose you over it.”

Anne moved closer so their legs touched. “You’re not going to lose me. But ever since you started training for Apollo 16, it’s as if you’re already on the moon. Peter and I never see you, which I’m okay with. I understand it comes with the territory.”

“It will all be over soon.”

“I know, and when it is, Peter and I will be waiting with open arms, ready to welcome you back into our lives.”

Tom kissed her. “I miss you.”

Anne reached out and put her hand around his neck. “I’ve missed you too.” She pulled Tom closer and they shared a deep, passionate kiss leading to a wonderful night of love making.

19

FINAL WEEKS

“So, is your team ready?”

Straightening up in his chair, Tom looked his boss directly in the eye. In less than a week he and his crew would be leaving for Kennedy for their mandatory three-week quarantine period before being strapped into their Saturn V rocket for the adventure of a lifetime. Mastering the tension he felt, Tom answered professionally, “Absolutely, we’re primed and ready.”

“Good.” Dick looked down at his desk, searching through his notes. Finding what he was looking for, he said in a businesslike tone, “David will be your CAPCOM for all three of your moonwalks.”

Tom was pleased his friend would be his link back to Earth while venturing out onto the lunar surface, especially since David had already walked on the moon himself. “That’s great to hear.”

“Also, the names you selected for your spacecraft were approved.” Dick looked up. “Thanks for not picking anything silly or controversial.”

Tom and Dusty had named the Lunar Module, Explorer, while Kirk had picked Galaxy for the Command Module. Tom leaned toward Dick and said with a smirk. “You should have heard Dusty’s original idea. He suggested Adam for the command module and Eve for the Lunar Module. That way when Kirk was docking with the LM, we could radio in that Adam was penetrating Eve.”

Raising his hand, Dick cut Tom off. “I know, and you could do it over and over again. I’ve already heard the joke from the Apollo 13 guys.”

Surprised someone else had come up with the suggestion, Tom thought it was amusing it was Apollo 13 since the crew was almost lost. “Women’s libbers would have had a field day if their lunar module had been called Eve. I can hear it now, ‘Leave it to a spacecraft named after a woman to save the three macho astronauts returning from the moon.’”

Dick pressed his lips together. “Mmm, that would have been pretty funny.” His eyes suddenly narrowed as all humor drained from his face. A cold silence hung over them for a second before Dick slowly rose and walked across the room and locked his door.

Tom assumed his boss was going to go over how the lunar sample was going to be snatched from his flight.

Instead of returning to his chair, Dick stopped at the front of his desk, positioning himself so he was right across from Tom. His boss leaned back against the desk. An edge of anxiety crept into his voice as he said, just above a whisper, “We have a problem. The special adapter you were going to use to get the lunar sample was never built. This information somehow got lost through channels, and it was never relayed back to me that there were any issues. Apparently, someone above me was concerned too many people would need to be involved to develop the part, increasing the chances of the hoax leaking out. That means our only option is for you to scoop up the lunar material into a metal container yourself, which will be a trick to do without Dusty or the television camera seeing it.” Dick crossed his arms. “So, do you have any idea how to pull that off?”

“That will be a challenge.” The original plan was to have the special adaptor fit on the end of the core sampling tool, which Tom was secretly going to use to scoop up lunar material when he wrote Peter’s initials in the moon’s soil. Without that tool, it would be practically impossible to snag a lunar soil sample without being noticed. Every move they would make on the moon was going to be monitored by an RCA color camera mounted on the rover. This TV camera, nicknamed the Big Eye, would be operated mostly by mission control during all three of their EVAs. If Tom deviated from their strictly choreographed timeline of activities in order to snag an unplanned lunar sample, especially putting it in an unknown container, he would certainly be caught by the camera and questioned. An idea popped into his head. “I’ve got it.”

Dick perked up. “Good. Let’s hear it.”

“At the end of the last EVA, when Dusty is back in the LM, I have to drive the rover and position it so mission control can film our launch, right?”

“Yes, but that camera will be trained right on you walking back to the Lunar Module. It will definitely see you lean over to get a sample.”

“True, but what if I snatch the sample when the camera is aimed away from me? When I do a U-turn and point the rover back toward the LM, I can ask mission control if it’s a good spot. When the camera turns away, it should be in that position for awhile, focusing on the spacecraft. Before the camera turns back around I should be able to scoop up the sample behind the rover, out of view. If the camera turns early, since the rover will be blocking what I’m doing on the lunar surface, I’ll say I’m examining an interesting rock. If that happens, I’ll simply slip the container into my pocket along with some random rock before getting up. Just to make sure I’m not seen doing any of this, I’ll have my back to the camera when I stand up.”

Dick rubbed his chin. “That sounds like it could work, but what concerns me is it will be during the last EVA. What if it is cancelled?”

“If that happens, I’ll come up with something on the fly. This is my best opportunity to be out of sight of both Dusty and the camera.”

Tapping his fingers on his desk, Dick looked past Tom, clearly weighing all the possibilities. “Okay, let’s go with that. I’ll pass over the container to you in the suit-up room, doing it so I’m not seen.”

“Perfect, you can hide it under my family picture, which I believe I’ll be getting sometime prior to boarding.” Management had approved Tom leaving the picture on the lunar surface, which he wanted to do to honor his family. He had already turned it in as instructed so it could be officially cleared and stamped. It was to be wrapped in a special clear baggie.

Dick said, “Good idea. That’s how I’ll do it. Then let’s plan on you passing the container directly back to me on the recovery ship.”

“Got it.”

Dick put his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “As commander, I know you have a lot on your plate, and snagging that sample is just one more thing you have to worry about. But you don’t want to screw this up. There is no way we can attempt this on 17. If you fail, there is no telling what the Soviets will do.” Dick leaned in. “But most importantly, don’t get caught.”

Tom understood the consequences, and failure was not an option.

SWEAT RAN PROFUSELY down Tom’s face as he struggled to catch his breath. He looked behind him and saw David bent over, looking just as winded. His friend was slowly bouncing the small blue ball, stalling his serve. David was one point away from finally beating Tom at handball, which he hadn’t done in months. With this being the last time they would play until Tom returned from the moon, it was obvious his friend was going to do whatever he could to win.

Impatiently Tom called out, “Come on, serve it!”

Grabbing the ball, David flashed a cocky grin. “Time for you to go down, buddy.”

“Yeah, we’ll see. Serve.”

Pulling his arm back, David threw the ball down one last time. Every muscle in his body flexed as he powered through the serve. Tom turned to get into position for the rebound. A loud swooshing sound made Tom flinch as the ball zoomed within inches of his ear. The serve hit perfectly in the corner of the front wall. Tom raced over to where the ball was going, but quickly realized his angle was wrong. The ball was going to hit a second wall. His miscalculation meant his only chance of reaching the ball was sacrificing his body and diving. Not thinking and determined to win, he powered off both legs, outstretching his right arm in hopes of getting just a couple of fingers on the ball. For a split second he thought he was going to make it before reality set in and his body came crashing down hard on the court, his head slamming against the ground. Game and match to David.

Wincing in pain, Tom heard David celebrating behind him. “Yes, that’s what I’m talking about. There’s a new sheriff in town.”

Rolling over, Tom smiled seeing his friend do some kind of a jig, which looked more like the chicken dance. “That’s one match.”

“Yeah, and who won it?”

Tom licked his lip and tasted blood. “You did. You were due. Good job.” He started to get up.

The celebration continued as David bragged, “Who’s first on the moon and now the handball champ?”

Tom decided to bring his friend back to Earth. “Excuse me, buddy, but what was your title when you landed? If I remember right, wasn’t it the LMP? Doesn’t that stand for Lunar Module Pilot? But yet you never flew the Lunar Module. What’s up with that?”

David raised both hands as if surrendering, but he wasn’t going to let Tom’s dig dilute his joy. “Hey, I was ready and able to save the day if called upon.”

Tom smiled as he approached with an extended hand for a congratulatory handshake. David knew how much Tom really respected the job of the LMP. The Lunar Module Pilot was invaluable during the moon landing, calling out critical data and monitoring the controls when the commander’s focus was outside the spacecraft. No way could the commander land that ship safely without his partner’s help. “I bet you were. Well, yours truly will be landing our LM.”

David clutched Tom’s sweaty hand. “Don’t screw the pooch.”

Tom chuckled. “Not me.”

David pointed to Tom’s mouth. “Buddy, you’re bleeding.”

Tom walked over to the wall, exhausted. He sat and wiped his mouth. “Yeah, I bit my lip.”

David sat next to him. “What in the world were you doing diving for that ball anyway? You could have risked losing your flight.”

“I wanted to win.”

“You don’t want to do anything stupid, especially just before leaving for Kennedy.”

“I’ll have plenty of time to heal during quarantine.”

Both men looked across the court, the sounds of their heavy breathing echoing off the walls.

Panting, David said, “After all the rigorous training leading up to your mission, you’ll find the three weeks in quarantine is a nice break. It was great getting away from everything. The best part for me was the few days spent at the beach house. We had the wives over. It was like a second honeymoon with Joan. We walked on the beach and had some wonderful talks.”

Tom was pleased the couple was doing better. “That does sound nice. It will be good to have some quality time with Anne.”

“Yeah, it definitely helped our relationship.”

Wiping the sweat off his forehead, Tom turned toward his friend. “I’m glad you’ll be our CAPCOM during the moonwalks”

“Me too. I’m there to make sure you don’t mess up.”

Tom got serious. “I think we should have some type of coded way of talking so I can communicate to you exactly how I’m doing without the world knowing.”

David’s expression showed he found this odd. “What in the world would you need that for?”

“I don’t know, but I want to take advantage of our friendship and let you know exactly how things are.”

“Doubt that will be necessary, but alright.”

“How about we have a numbered system set up, from one to ten, that lets you know how bad something might be. If I mention a state followed by my age, the age will be how severe our situation is. For example, if I say, that hill reminds me of the ones I used to see in Michigan when I was eight, that would mean I think our current situation is an eight, so pretty bad.”

David joked, “I don’t think that will work if all is okay and you say you were two years old.”

“Anything less than a five, I will tell you straight out.”

“Got it. What if you say it’s a ten?”

Tom looked across the court for a second. “That means we’re going to die.”

20

SUIT-UP

Already dressed in his spacesuit, minus his bubble helmet and gloves, Tom stood in a hypnotic state, staring blankly at the large metal machine in front of him with its numerous pressure gauges, knobs, and blinking lights. Tom was unfazed by the orchestrated activity going on all around him by the many technicians in the suit-up room. Dressed in their white lab coats and caps, these workers were busy doing the job they had trained months for, helping Tom and his crewmates don and test their spacesuits.

In less than five hours, Tom would be sitting on top of the largest and most powerful rocket ever built, the Saturn V, blasting off to the moon over 200,000 miles away. He was surprised how calm he felt. The space veteran attributed his relaxed composure to the two years of intense training leading up to the mission. He was ready.

“Tom, why don’t you go ahead and sit down now.”

Breaking out of his trance, Tom looked over at the technician. “Will do.” He moved aside the various hoses and wires connecting him to the machine. He cautiously shuffled his feet backward until his yellow protective boot covers hit something solid, signaling he was at the chair. The technician then helped him fall backward.

“I’ll get your gloves and helmet and be right back.”

Nodding toward the technician, Tom moved around slightly so he was comfortable in the lounge. It was only a matter of time before his spacesuit would be pressurized and tested for leaks. If the suit passed, Tom would then breathe pure oxygen within his helmet, purging all the nitrogen from his system to prevent the possibility of the bends setting in. Waiting for the technician to return, Tom adjusted his Snoopy cap so his microphones were positioned just right. He glanced over at his crewmates, who were each being attended to as they lay back in their lounge chairs. The men had intense looks etched deep across their faces. Tom suspected the rookies were nervous, just as he was before his first flight. Hoping to put them at ease, Tom called out, “Hey, Dusty, Kirk.”

Both men looked toward their commander. Tom flashed a thumbs-up sign. A faint smile appeared on their faces as they each returned the gesture. Tom then pointed to the only thing hanging on the white walls, a large poster with a big, yellow smiley face with the caption, Have a nice day!

His crewmates looked up at the silly poster as Tom called out, “Let’s have a nice day.”

Kirk returned a more relaxed smile. “Roger that.”

Settling back in his seat, Tom eyed the bright-red stripe on each of his white spacesuit pant legs. These badges of honor signified he was the commander and responsible for his crewmates’ lives. As he touched one of the stripes, he reaffirmed to himself that he would do everything in his power to make sure the mission was a success and all three would return home safely.

The opening of a door caught Tom’s attention. He saw Dick enter wearing a blue sport shirt and tan pants. His boss carried a couple of packages, one certainly containing his family picture and the metal container he would use to steal the lunar soil. Dick first went over to Kirk, and, after a brief conversation, gave him one of the packages. Dick then worked his way over to Tom.

His boss approached with a big grin. “Is my commander ready for the thrill of a lifetime?”

“Absolutely!”

“Good. I have your family picture.”

Tom was impressed how nonchalant Dick acted as he casually opened the package. With only one hand he pulled out the photo wrapped in plastic, facing it forward so his body blocked the container from behind. Tom questioned if the small cylindrical container was there, considering how easily his boss held the snapshot. If it was, Dick must have practiced the move. Being in a lower, seated position, Tom could see the four-inch-long metal vial when Dick extended his arm. Tom wondered if he would be able to grab both items with one hand. Dropping the cylinder would draw unwanted attention and put the operation in jeopardy. He quickly looked around to establish that no one was paying attention, then reached with both hands and snagged the objects, making sure the container stayed hidden. “Thanks, Dick. Anne is excited to know our family picture will be on the moon for all eternity.”

Tom opened a pocket in his suit, slipping the items in.

Dick stood close by as he scanned the room. “Or until some future astronaut picks it up.”

After sealing the pouch, Tom exhaled deeply, satisfied no one had noticed. “True. When do you think we’ll go back to the moon?”

Dick also looked relieved as he took a step back. “Good question. After Apollo 17, I think it will be a while. So enjoy yourself.”

Tom extended his hand. “I plan on having a ball.”

Dick gave him a solid handshake. “I bet you will, and the thought of it makes me jealous.”

The technician approached. “Ready to put your gloves on, Tom?”

Dick began to move off. “I’ll let you get back to suiting up.”

As his boss left, Tom double-checked that the pouch with the container was sealed before answering the technician. “You bet. Let’s put those babies on.”

While the technician got down to business, Tom observed a man with jet-black hair and a beard drag a chair over toward him. After sitting, the fellow pulled out a sketch pad and pen. As the man began to draw, Tom wondered what he was up to. “Are you sketching me?”

The man looked up with concern, and answered apologetically, “I am. Is that okay?”

“Of course. I’m Tom Novak, by the way.”

The man smiled big. “I know who you are. I’m Paul Calle.”

The loud clicking sound of a glove being fastened caught Tom’s attention. He looked over and briefly moved his fingers to make sure the glove felt comfortable. Satisfied, he gave a quick nod to the technician before turning back to the artist. “Nice to meet you, Paul. Please excuse me for not shaking your hand. Mine are a little busy right now.” Tom figured some casual conversation might help pass the time. “So do you have any kids, Paul?”

Going back to his work, the artist answered without looking up. “I do. A girl and two boys.”

“Great, how old?”

“My girl is seventeen, oldest boy is fifteen, and the youngest is nine.”

Tom watched Paul’s hand moving quickly about the paper and tried to sneak a peek at the sketch. But he had no luck. “I have a boy, too, Peter. He’s seven.”

Studying Tom’s profile for a moment, Paul returned back to his drawing. “He’s close to my youngest, Chris, who is here for the launch. The oldest two had no desire to come out. According to them, once you’ve seen one launch, you’ve seen them all.”

Tom chuckled. “From their point of view, sitting in the stands, probably all the launches do look the same. A rocket shoots up into the sky, and a few minutes later, it’s gone.” Tom thought of Peter, who would be witnessing his first launch. “So do your kids draw?”

After another quick glance to help with his work, Paul resumed sketching. “They do. I’ve tried to take the time to work with them all. Chris seems to have the most talent. In fact, I carry one of his first drawings in my bag for good luck.”

Tom was impressed Paul could keep working while chatting. “I’d love to see it when you get a chance.”

Finishing up with the second glove, the technician interrupted. “How do those feel?”

Tom moved his fingers around in both gloves. “Good.”

Paul started to get up. “Well, good luck.”

“You’re already done?”

“Yep.”

“Impressive. Well, tell your little boy I said hi.”

The artist gave an appreciative nod. “I definitely will. Chris will be excited to hear the man flying the rocket he is watching said hi.”

“Ready to put your helmet on, Commander?”

As the artist left, Tom turned toward the technician. “Let’s do it.”

Once his helmet was locked in place, Tom would be breathing processed air for the remainder of the mission until their capsule was opened in the Pacific Ocean. Tom held up his hand in a stopping motion after seeing the technician approach with the clear plastic bubble in his hands. Tom had to take one final gasp of fresh air, his last for the next eleven days. He took in a lung full of air and then slowly exhaled. Happy with his last taste of Earth, he signaled he was ready. Tom looked straight ahead as the tech lowered his helmet carefully and snapped it securely in place. The only sound he now heard was his own breathing resonating within the plastic enclosure while cool oxygen flowed past his face.

The technician used hand gestures to ask if Tom wanted to recline in his chair.

Tom nodded he did.

The tech pulled the handle, releasing the lounger, putting Tom in a more comfortable position. He shot an A-okay signal before the tech turned to monitor the pressure gauges. Tom was now in his own world, comfortably inside his personal spaceship. The machine he was wearing would sustain and protect him when he ventured out into the harsh environment on the lunar surface. It was a marvelous piece of equipment. He turned his head from side to side in the fish bowl helmet, checking out the activity all around him. The helmet of the Apollo A7L suit allowed for an unrestricted view, different from the helmet he wore on Gemini. This made it easy to work inside the Apollo spacecraft, especially when floating around. When walking on the moon, he would wear a more restricted, gold-plated visor assembly over the bubble helmet that would protect him from dangerous micrometeoroids and the sun’s rays.

For the next forty-five minutes all Tom needed to do was relax in silence and breathe in pure oxygen. To take advantage of his last true downtime, he closed his eyes and tried to think pleasant thoughts. But his mind was going a mile a minute, cluttered with the many details associated with the launch. He methodically went through each step along with any possible failure, assessing what action he should take. He would have his hand on the abort handle, and turning it would not only abruptly end the mission, but risk the lives of the entire crew since there was no guarantee they would survive the jettisoned escape. No human had ever tried it. Though past commanders had been on the brink of aborting, each one made the right call, not turning the handle. He was certain he had the balls to do the same, though he wouldn’t hesitate twisting the lever if catastrophe was certain. After being killed hundreds of times in the simulator and learning from each mistake, he was confident he would make the right call.

Frustrated with his spinning mind, Tom squeezed his closed eyelids even tighter, forcing himself to purge all the thoughts associated with the mission. There would be plenty of time in the capsule before launch to review his procedures. He wanted to focus on something more relaxing and soothing. The one subject he knew would do that was Anne. He reflected on their last moments together. Over the weekend they had enjoyed NASA’s beachfront cottage, the only beach house not torn down when the land was purchased by the government. On the last day of her visit, they took a long, loving stroll along Kennedy’s pristine shoreline to say their final goodbye. Though Tom was excited and filled with anticipation about what lay ahead, he sensed Anne was apprehensive. Virtually in the shadow of his rocket sitting just over a mile away on pad 39A, he put his hands gently on her face and looked her directly in the eye. He promised with all his heart he would return. She stayed strong as she kissed him warmly on the lips, hugging him tightly as if she didn’t want to let him go.

A sudden tap on Tom’s helmet broke his daydreaming. Without turning his head, he gradually opened his eyes. A stick-figure drawing dangled inches away from his face. He saw Paul beaming as he held up a Crayon-colored illustration of a man standing on the moon holding the American flag, obviously drawn by his son. Tom smiled at the proud parent, flashing a thumbs-up sign in his direction. Paul did a slight wave before leaving. As Tom calmly closed his eyes, a pang of jealousy shot through him, envious of the relationship the artist had with his boy. He wanted the same with Peter, but how? He was an astronaut.

Tom thought back to a few days earlier when he last saw his son. Tom was in an environmentally controlled area while Anne and Peter were on the other side of a glass wall. Excitedly, Peter showed off a new Hot Wheels toy car that was supposedly a “goodbye” gift from Tom. Even though this was news to him, he still nodded, pretending to be aware of the toy. Once again, Anne was covering for Tom for not being a part of his son’s life.

Snapping his eyes open, Tom stared up at the white ceiling above. Things had to change. He couldn’t continue not being there for his family. They meant too much to him. Though he planned on staying with NASA after the mission, he would have to make some kind of adjustment to his schedule. He needed to spend more time with Peter. If that meant taking a desk job, so be it.

Tom wondered if he ought to start guiding his son along the path of someday becoming an astronaut. Considering the dangers of the profession, he questioned the wisdom of that choice. Space travel will surely be safer when Peter flies. Think of how far air travel has come. Shoot, by 2000, America will probably be flying tourists into space. Peter could be a commercial space pilot. Tom decided he had to see if his boy was a chip off the old block, and the only way to do that was to teach him how to fly. Right then and there he concluded he’d buy a small airplane. He had no idea how he would be able to afford such an extravagant expense, but he rationalized that whatever the cost, it would be worth every penny to be able to share the joy of flying with his son.

Pleased with his decision, Tom contentedly closed his eyes and dozed off.

TOM LED HIS crewmates proudly down the long corridor of the Manned Spacecraft Operations Building toward the transfer van that would take them the short eight miles to their launch pad. The hallway was scattered with a handful of office personnel there to see them off, along with some photographers. Tom’s rigid spacesuit made walking difficult. He tried not to look silly as he clutched his portable oxygen unit feeding him air. With very little sound penetrating his helmet, he was unable to hear the well-wishers. He simply waved at the folks as he continued on.

After the short elevator ride, Tom came to the exit of the building. A security guard opened the door. Outside there were hundreds of people behind a barrier. Tom saw them waving and cheering, but he couldn’t hear them. Without breaking stride, Tom acknowledged the crowd. In front of him was a thirty-foot ramp that led down to the transfer van waiting with its back doors open.

The last thing Tom wanted was to trip and fall on the ramp, so he concentrated as he awkwardly moved his stiff legs down the incline. Halfway down he looked up and got a pleasant surprise. There at the bottom of the ramp he saw Anne and Peter clapping. The wonderful sight had Tom grinning from ear to ear. Clearly Dick had set up the surprise. As he approached his family, he had to stop. He gave Peter a light pat on the head. The little boy instantly reached up and grabbed Tom’s black glove, squeezing it tight. Tom winked at his son before turning to Anne. She surprised him by placing both hands on his helmet. Stepping on her tippy toes, she pulled him close and planted a big kiss right on the plastic bubble. Then she lovingly mouthed that she loved him. He did the same before strolling on with a sudden burst of happiness.

As he entered the van and took a seat, a warm smile crossed his face. There on the bottom of his helmet was the faint outline of Anne’s lips. Though he should have had the impression wiped off, he decided to keep it. It represented what was most important to him and what would be waiting for him when he returned.

21

WAHOO!

“This is Kennedy Launch Control. The Launch Operations Manager has called the three astronauts and says the launch team wishes them good luck and God speed. They all replied ‘Thank you’ and now have a quiet circuit as they switch over to the astrocomm circuit. We’re now T minus 3 minutes, 24 seconds and counting before the launch of Apollo 16.”

Anne stared uneasily up at the loudspeaker that was updating the people in the VIP grandstands on the progress of the launch. The moment was drawing near when Tom would be shot up into the heavens by a rocket that had the force of an atomic bomb. A part of her selfishly wished for a scrub, giving her at least one more month with her husband. A crazy notion deep within her hoped that a cancellation of the launch could lead to the program being shut down and Tom never leaving Earth. Of course, such thoughts were outlandish and self-centered. Flying to the moon was Tom’s dream.

The grandstands were packed with dignitaries. Everyone was dressed in their Sunday best with some women wearing elegant Derby hats. Anne proudly wore her favorite three-year-old white dress with black polka dots. She had considered dressing Peter in a suit, but the young boy would have been miserable in the 85-degree heat.

For many, a Saturn V launch had become mundane. It was simply just another social event, an opportunity to show off a new hairdo or dress. But for Anne and the other crew wives, their husbands were on top of that monster, risking their lives. Nothing in firing off the most powerful rocket ever built was routine. Made up of over a million parts, just one failing piece could lead to a devastating disaster.

Looking out toward the rocket three-and-a-half miles away, Anne adjusted her sunglasses. To see the huge machine clearly, she had to hold up her hand to block out the midmorning sun. The rocket seemed lonely, almost docile, as vapor gases seeped out of its sides in all directions. She felt an odd connection to the mammoth. Her husband was now in its grasp, and she prayed it would take care of him.

A sudden tap on Anne’s shoulder made her look back. The Vice President of the United States, sitting behind her, had a sincere look on his face.

“Your husband will be fine.”

Anne smiled graciously before turning toward Peter next to her, who was playing with his toy Hot Wheels car. He was starting to get restless after spending over an hour in the stands. Anne put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you ready for Daddy to shoot off to the moon?”

Peter’s eyes widened as he looked up. “Is it time, Mommy?”

“Almost, just a few more minutes. Can you see the rocket?”

Peter set the toy in his lap and looked out toward pad 39A. He lifted his small hands to shield his eyes from the sun’s rays. “Kinda. It seems like a long way away. How come we’re so far?”

All spectators needed to be at a safe distance from the pad in case the rocket exploded. Anne didn’t want to alarm her son with the exact reasoning, so instead came up with something logical that a seven-year-old could grasp. “A lot of fire comes out from underneath the rocket when it lifts off, and NASA wants everyone to be out of harm’s way.”

Peter dropped his hands and looked at her. “I wish I was with Dad, to make sure he’ll be okay.”

Anne smiled at her son as she reached for his hand. “I’m positive he wants you here with me, to make sure I’ll be okay.”

STRAPPED TIGHTLY IN his seat, Tom was all business as he closely monitored the complex control panel in front of him. The launch team were also hard at work carefully watching over their redline values verifying all was a Go. The overall control of the flight was now in the hands of the computer, which made the astronauts nervous. The last thing they wanted was some machine forcing an unneeded scrub.

Tom was in the left seat, which enabled him to command the rocket. Kirk sat in the middle with Dusty in the far right seat. Seeing two minutes left in the countdown, Tom closed his eyes and said a short prayer, a tradition he’d started on his Gemini flight. Lord, please don’t let me mess this up. Watch over Anne and Peter, and if it’s not too much to ask, please keep an eye on the crew of Apollo 16 for the next eleven days. Amen.

Tom opened his eyes and focused on the subpanel of the main console that held the key displays and switches critical to the launch. If any display signaled a failure, it was up to him to determine if he should take over the flight manually or twist the abort handle.

“T-minus one minute and counting.”

Tom had one final task before riding out the last seconds of the countdown. He aligned their “eight-ball” before calling out, “Guidance aligned.”

“Roger, T-minus 30 seconds.”

Tom briefly peered over at his crew, who were stone-faced, looking straight ahead. Tom pushed himself deep into his canvas couch and positioned his hand carefully on the abort lever. He was ready for the ride of his life.

“15, 14, 13…”

Even though Tom was at the top of the thirty-six story high beast, he started to hear muffled sounds through his helmet of the fuel rushing into the five massive F-1 engines at the bottom of the rocket, getting them ready to fire. These were similar engines to the ones he inspected years earlier. A flash shot through his mind that Russian parts were on those engines. He was suddenly a supporter of USSR technology.

“10, 9…”

The rocket was coming alive, as if it had a soul and was ready to take charge. There was no turning back now. Tom and his mates were firing off for the heavens whether they wanted to be or not. Tom took his hand off the abort handle. He decided no matter what happened over the next 20 seconds, he wasn’t turning it. If there was a catastrophic malfunction before the rocket had safely cleared the tower, they would probably be dead either way.

“7, 6, Ignition, 4…”

A slight vibration began as the thunderous sound of those mighty engines transmitted up through the rocket’s metal skeleton, causing Tom’s heart rate to rise.

“3, 2…”

All five LV ENGINE lights went dark on the control panel, indicating all engines had reached 90 percent power and were fighting against the enormous hold down clamps keeping the rocket at bay.

“Liftoff!”

Tom felt a mild jolt as the LIFTOFF light lit, signaling the massive rocket had lifted a few centimeters. The rocket was on its way. There was no way the brute could be put back in place. They were all flying somewhere, the question was, where. Through the vertical shaking, Tom was able to verify that the event clock had reset to zero. The expected shudder was due to the rocket’s engines swiveling back and forth. They constantly corrected the rocket’s path as it slowly rose. Its violent behavior was more than Tom had expected. He impulsively clutched his armrests in an unrealistic, subconscious effort to steady the giant.

Tom confirmed on the control panel that the guidance system was leaning the long rocket slightly away from the tower, ensuring the well-balanced machine couldn’t be blown into the stationary structure. He yelled into his mike, informing mission control the rocket was doing its job, “Yaw program.”

The long nine seconds to clear the tower seemed like an eternity.

A BRIGHT BURST of flames shot out from under the Saturn rocket, momentarily blinding Anne. As the rocket started to gradually rise, the eerie silence of the grandstand was broken by a few whispers of “Go…Go…” All at once a monstrous, thunderous roar blasted against Anne’s body, pushing her back. The massive shockwave caused her to put a hand to her chest. Peter instantly gripped her other hand with both of his and pulled her close, scared by the deafening sound.

“Mommy, is Daddy’s rocket blowing up?”

The grandstands shook. Anne did her best to stay composed as her eyes stayed glued to the rising rocket. To reassure her son, Anne shouted, “No dear, everything’s okay. Daddy is fine.”

Soon the whole grandstand was cheering madly, as a loud chorus of “Go! Go! Go!” echoed out all around them.

“TOWER CLEARED.”

Fighting the rocket’s might, Tom clenched his jaw as he spit out his response, “Roger, clear tower.” Control of the flight had been passed over to Houston. Relieved they were on their way, Tom cautiously moved his hand back onto the abort handle.

The monster was giving them a hell of a ride as it soared into a programmed roll. He took a quick glance at the displays and established they were headed on the correct trajectory. The force of acceleration pushing him deeper into his seat gave him the impression they were heading straight up through the clouds instead of flying in an arc. All systems appeared to be working perfectly. He called out over the shaking. “Roll and pitch program.”

“Roger, roll. You have good thrust in all five.”

“Roger.”

Dusty yelled out, “Wahoo!”

Tom felt just as excited but kept his cool. “Yeah, some ride.”

Kirk was even more subdued as he calmly replied, “Not what I expected.”

The sun abruptly shot through the one window not covered by the aerodynamic, protective shroud. The unexpected rays caught Tom by surprise. He lifted his hand to shield himself from the sun so he could continue to read the controls. As the rocket continued to increase its speed, the lateral frequency, swaying him side to side, made it difficult for him to steady his hand. The g forces pushing him down were slowly climbing. In less than two minutes, just before staging, that force would top out at four and half g’s.

“Stand by for Mode 1 Bravo.”

Tom answered, “Roger, Houston.”

“Mark. 1 Bravo.”

They were now supersonic at a high enough attitude that if they needed to abort, it would be in the safer 1B Mode. Though he didn’t plan on turning the handle, there was a better chance they would survive if he had to. Tom’s eyes stayed riveted on the pitch, yaw, and roll rates. If any of those readings exceeded their safe limits, he would have to consider an abort.

“Your feet are wet now.”

CAPCOM was using an old navy term, telling Tom they were now flying over water and were capable of a water landing. “Roger.”

Off box, so mission control couldn’t hear, Tom joked with his crewmates. “Everyone have their life preservers on?”

Dusty chuckled. “Won’t need them.”

“Roger that.”

The aerodynamic forces acting on the vehicle were continuing to rise as their speed increased. With the air around the rocket thinning, eventually the Saturn V would reach the point where it would experience the mightiest forces ripping at its skin, trying to tear their ride apart. This was known as “Max q,” a major hurdle that was coming up.

“Two and a half g.”

“Sixteen, you’re through max q. Everything looks good.”

“Roger.”

“MARK. 2 MINUTES, 3 seconds. The flight director is going through his status checks in mission control for a Go/No-Go for staging. Coming up on center engine shutdown.”

Hearing the grandstand speakers announce that Tom was well on his way, Anne continued to block out the sun with her hand as she stared up at the long, twirling contrail left by the rocket. It led high into the scattered clouds. She was convinced a faint light at the end of the trail was the flame coming out of the Saturn engines. She blew a kiss in the direction of the light before it disappeared.

“Is Daddy in space?”

Anne looked down at her son. “Almost.”

TOM SAW THE LV Engine 5 light go on communicating the center engine had cut off as planned. “Inboard shutdown.”

“Roger, inboard. You’re Go for staging.”

The first stage booster, which was nearly a half a football field long, had been gobbling up over 13 tons of fuel every second, and it was about to run out of gas. In twenty seconds, the four outboard F-1 engines would simultaneously shut down, and the booster’s job would be done. Just before the second stage engines ignited, the first stage would be cut loose to begin its long fall to its watery grave in the Atlantic Ocean. Through this brief moment of no engine power, the rocket would stop accelerating. But this wouldn’t be true for Tom and his crew, whose inertia would fling them forward hard into their safety straps. The feeling would be similar to driving a car into a brick wall at sixty miles an hour.

Tom wanted to prepare his crew. “Staging in ten seconds. Hang on.”

“Okay.”

Tom decided to do a countdown for his mates, “5, 4, 3, 2, 1.” When the remaining engine lights flicked on, the engines cut off as planned, violently hurling the crew forward. “Whoa!” Tom expected his face to smash into his helmet’s faceplate by the violent action. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw both Dusty and Kirk fling out their arms, probably reflexively, thinking they would crash into the control panel.

Dusty laughed. “Man!”

Tom kept his eyes on the control panel. All the engine lights dimmed, indicating they were separating from the first stage booster. “Staging.” Outside the lone window, the fireball that had been spewing out from behind the rocket engulfed their spacecraft, as if they had backed into the raging flame they had created. Almost simultaneously with the engine lights turning back on, Tom and his crew were slammed back hard into their seats as all five second-stage engines fired, propelling them on their way. Tom battled through the initial vibration as he briefly considered the first stage falling away, never to be seen again. Good job, baby!

Tom instantly zipped back into action. “Ignition on the S-Two.”

“Roger, thrust is a GO on all five on the S-Two.”

A dangerous pogo vibration began to develop, which Tom assumed was due to the metal interstage ring still tagging along. The “skirt” had to go. After a few moments, the SII Sep light darkened, confirming the large band had been released. Almost instantly, the pogo action subsided. “Second stage sep.”

“Roger.”

At their current altitude, the escape tower was no longer needed for an abort. Instantly all the windows were uncovered as the tower was jettisoned.

Tom informed Houston, “Tower jettison.”

“Roger, we confirm the skirt sep. You are mode two.”

“Roger, mode two.” This confirmed they were riding on the second stage.

Dusty’s voice reached a hilariously high pitch. “Wow, look at that view!”

Even Kirk showed excitement. “Dang. That is beautiful!”

Tom looked out his window. He was back in that special place, high above the earth. He thought back to when he circled his planet outside the Gemini spacecraft during his EVA. That experience had been a long time ago, in fact, too long. “You two will be amazed at the sights you’ll see from this point on.”

ANNE FELT A tug on her dress.

“Mommy, can we go now?”

Anne had been keeping tabs on the flight as the public announcements kept coming from the grandstand speakers. Even though some folks had been getting up and leaving, she had hoped to stay in the stands until she knew Tom was safely in space. But with the rocket long gone, Peter had been pestering her for something to drink. Remembering there was a concession stand behind the bleachers, she figured she could still hear the updates from there. Plus, she would be able to finally light up a desperately needed cigarette. “How would you like to go with me and get a Coke?”

Peter’s eyes lit up. “Yes, please.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

As they both stood, the vice president spoke to her. “Your husband did a great job. He’s a real patriotic hero.”

Anne turned with a polite smile. “Thank you, sir.”

The vice president looked down at Peter. “So, Son, are you going to be an astronaut like your dad?”

Anne raised her hand before Peter could speak. “One astronaut in this family is more than enough.”

22

ON OUR WAY!

A tinge of jealousy shot through Viktor as he hung up the phone. He turned and placed his hands on the rusted windowsill as he stared out into the dark, Russian night sky.

Maria called out, “Who was that on the phone?”

Viktor turned to his wife, who was over six months pregnant with their second child. “America just successfully launched another rocket to the moon.” He somberly walked over to the dinner table, where his eight-year-old son Dmitri was helping his mother set the table. Viktor spoke in a soft tone. “I met one of those astronauts, Tom Novak.”

Maria carried over a pot of Viktor’s favorite meat stew, tushonka. After placing the dish at the center of the table, Maria looked up with a cocked eyebrow. “Was that the astronaut you met in Geneva when promoting the mission with the United States?”

Viktor took his seat and shrugged in agreement. “Yes.” Viktor knew full well that Maria was unaware of the real reason he had been sent to Switzerland. He reached for the clear bottle of vodka and poured himself a small glass. He swirled the liquid around before downing the shot. “I wish I was on that rocket.”

Maria took a plate of bread from Dmitri, placed it by the stew and said gently, “I know, and I believe strongly that someday you will go to the moon.”

Viktor forced a smile. He loved his wife and appreciated her encouragement and support. But after four successful moon landings, the Americans were too far ahead to chase. NASA would probably have a lunar base set up before the Soviets ever landed. He was convinced his country had given up on the moon. The rumor circulating around the office was that the agency’s focus was setting up space stations in Earth orbit. “I think that dream is long gone.”

Arching an eyebrow, Maria crossed her arms. “Don’t say that. It can happen, and fortunately you were selected to be a part of the U.S. mission, which will show your bosses what you can do.”

Viktor was lucky to still be a part of the joint USSR-U.S.A. flight. After the tragic accident that had killed three cosmonauts earlier that summer, all Soviet-manned missions had been put on hold. Though the rest of the world did not know the specifics of the accident or that future flights had been suspended, Viktor and his comrades were well aware of the deferment.

Because the cosmonauts died from asphyxiation caused by the spacecraft depressurizing, leadership decided to modify the three-man Soyuz to a two-man ship. This would allow enough room for future cosmonauts to wear spacesuits, protecting them from any similar incident. Unfortunately, the redesign meant one of the three cosmonauts on the joint mission with the Americans would have to be cut. As the only rookie on the team, Viktor was convinced he would be the one bumped. But surprisingly, he was spared along with the commander, Yakov Slavsky. Viktor felt working on the U.S. covert operation was the reason he was kept on the prime crew. “I was lucky I wasn’t cut from that mission.”

Maria motioned for Dmitri to take a seat as she walked over to her chair, her voice swelling with pride. “It wasn’t luck. You deserved that seat after all the work you put in over the years.”

Viktor had put in a lot of time supporting the program and had been frustrated at being passed over on crew assignments. But the long wait finally paid off when he was given what he considered to be the best-possible appointment. Of all the missions that hung in the balance after the shutdown of the manned Soyuz program, the joint mission with the U.S. had the best chance of surviving. His country would do everything possible to be ready for that flight, not wanting the Americans to show them up. Viktor poured himself another shot of vodka.

Taking a seat, Maria put a napkin in her lap. “Will Tom Novak be one of the American astronauts on that mission?”

Because the USSR-U.S.A. mission was over two years away, neither country had publicly announced who would fly the mission. An official announcement of the crews was to happen later that month in America, an event Viktor would probably have to attend. He took a sip of the vodka as he looked at his wife. “I hope so. I would enjoy working with that man.”

THE APOLLO 16 capsule was out of radio contact with mission control as they flew through their second orbit on the night side of Earth. With the cabin lights on, the ship’s bright and sterile interior glistened in the planet’s dark shadow. Tom and his crewmates were going through their long checklists, preparing their ship for the Trans-Lunar Injection, scheduled in twenty-five minutes. TLI would be the last operation for their Saturn V rocket. The first two boosters had operated flawlessly and had long ago been released. It was up to the third stage to do the rocket’s final job, blasting the men off on a correct path to the moon. After firing, the booster would separate from the Apollo spacecraft, and once the Lunar Module was extracted, the third stage would drift along in a slightly altered course, eventually crashing into the lunar surface.

With a hint of frustration in his voice, Dusty complained, “Man, I keep floating into the instrument panel.”

All the men were still in their spacesuits, minus their gloves and helmet. The suits naturally wanted to expand. This was fine when floating around in the cabin, but constantly battled the astronaut when sitting in his seat, if not strapped in. Once his body relaxed, the suit would slowly take over, pushing the occupant toward the panel.

Tom had been fighting the problem ever since unbuckling himself. He looked over at Dusty. “Just make sure you don’t knock any switches. We don’t want to jettison the docking ring and lose our mission.”

Even though the key switches were guarded, there was always the possibility in the tight quarters of knocking open a cover and accidently flipping a switch. A few operations were irreversible. Losing the docking ring was one of them. Such a mishap would mean they would have no way of docking with the Lunar Module, and without the LM, they would be unable to land on the moon, essentially killing the mission.

Nodding in Tom’s direction, Dusty said playfully, “Don’t worry, I won’t do anything stupid.”

Kirk chimed in from the middle seat. “How about none of us do anything stupid this mission?”

Tom and Dusty answered in unison, “Roger that.”

Dusty touched his cheeks and asked Kirk, “Does my face look puffy to you?”

Probably wondering why his fellow traveler was suddenly concerned about his looks, Kirk answered in a sarcastic tone, “No, you look as beautiful as ever.”

“No, seriously. I have this full-headed feeling, plus my sinuses are running.”

In zero gravity, body fluids flowed in all directions. Tom had already experienced the phenomenon on his previous flight. “We all have that going on. You’ll get used to it. At least none of us are showing any signs of space sickness.”

With their tasks completed, Tom and Dusty were waiting for further instructions from Houston. Kirk had a longer list to work on. Tom took advantage of the rare relaxing moment to take in the sights outside his window. Their spacecraft was in an upside down position in relation to Earth, and without gravity, it was as if they were flying under their planet. A stunning view.

Dusty was obviously enjoying what he was looking at too. “I can’t get over this view. It’s out of…umm… it’s amazing!”

Tom knew exactly what Dusty almost said. “I guess certain sayings don’t apply in space.”

Dusty chuckled. “Yeah, I was going to say out of this world, but that’s where we are.”

With a quizzical look, Kirk paused from his work for a moment. “Wow, I never thought of it that way.”

Staying at the window, Dusty pointed up to a swarm of lights glimmering in the darkness over their heads. “Look at all those fires down there.”

Tilting his head more upward, Tom focused on the many small, flickering lights. “You mean up there.”

Dusty sounded intense. “Right, there must be thousands of them. They’re beautiful. What are they?”

“We’re over Africa, so those must be the fires of Africa.”

“They’re spectacular. What are they from?”

Tom had been informed of the fires on his Gemini flight. “Nomads.”

“Wonder if any of them would believe there are three spacemen flying in the night sky over a hundred miles above their heads, looking down on them?”

“Not in a million years.”

Dusty still had excitement in his voice. “Man, seeing the sunrise earlier, then all those thunderstorms, and now this, it’s just incredible.”

Even though Tom had flown around the Earth almost fifty times on his first mission, he never got tired of looking at his planet from space.

Dusty dropped his voice down a couple of decibels. “I’d be happy just floating around Earth for the next eleven days.”

Steadying himself in his seat, Tom pushed his upper body forward to get a good look at his LMP. He didn’t want Dusty jinxing the flight. “You don’t want to say that. We want to fly to the moon.”

Dusty looked over with raised eyebrows. “Of course. I just mean, it’s just so spiritual up here.”

Kirk chimed in. “Dusty, maybe you’ll get an Earth orbit mission later in your career.”

“I wouldn’t mind being a part of Skylab. Think of all the room they’ll have in that Saturn V third stage. They’ll be able to do somersaults from one end of the thing to the other.”

Tom interjected, “Well let’s focus on our moon mission first.”

“Yes, sir.” A quiet moment passed before Dusty asked, “Tom, do you think our kids will ever experience this, maybe as tourists or something?”

“Possibly. Think how far we’ve come in the last thirty years. The V-2 rocket was just developing, and now here we sit in a spacecraft in the year 1972 that will take us to the moon. Who would have ever thought that was possible back in ‘42?”

“True.”

“Then, to think we put a man on the moon just eight years after our first manned space flight, a mere 15-minute flight. Americans are explorers. Thirty years from now, it wouldn’t surprise me if we have a base already on Mars. We’ll probably have space stations floating around Earth and lunar bases on the moon. It should be an incredible time for our kids.”

Dusty turned to Tom. “Funny you talk like that, because Dick mentioned to me once during training he wouldn’t be surprised if it took another forty years before we ever send a man back to the moon.”

With his mouth agape, Tom shot a shocked look toward Dusty. He remembered Dick making a similar comment in the suit-up room, but he assumed his boss meant a decade at the most. “What? He said that? No way. He’s crazy. That would be, what, 2012?” Tom was shaking his head as he pushed himself deeper into his seat. “Why would we stop going to the moon? We just need to take care of some business at home before we return. If our mission and 17 go as planned, I guarantee you we’ll be back by the end of the decade. Shoot, Skylab will be like having a small home circling Earth, and the success of those missions will lead to trips farther into space. Then keep in mind, we already have a Mars mission in the works. Next time I see Dick I’m going to offer him a bet. I’ll even give him odds. One hundred to one on $100 that we will return to the moon before 2012, and I plan on being around to collect.”

Dusty chuckled. “That’s $10,000 if you lose.”

Tom said with confidence. “I have faith in NASA and the American people, so I don’t plan on losing. Besides, in today’s dollars it’s probably only $1,000.”

“In that case, that means that if you win, you’d get, umm… a whopping $10.”

Tom grinned. “Good point. Maybe I should up that bet.”

THOUGH ANNE HAD been pleased with the quaint first-floor room of the Cocoa Beach motel, she was eager to get home. Both suitcases were by the door, packed, and ready to go. She did a final search of the room to make certain she hadn’t missed anything. Once finished, she grinned at the sight of her son being a typical seven-year-old, jumping from one bed to the other, something she wouldn’t allow him to do at home. Though the sheets and covers were being destroyed, Peter needed the release, especially after behaving for over five hours at Kennedy. With a long plane ride coming up, she decided to let the boy continue with his rambunctious play while she walked the bags over to the lobby.

“Peter, I’ll be right back. I’m going to go drop off our bags.”

In midflight, Peter turned and waved, saying between heavy gasps of air, “Okay, Mommy.”

Anne chuckled as she opened the door. When she stepped outside she was surprised to see a handful of reporters and cameramen waiting in the parking lot. Before she could close the door, she was surrounded, a couple of microphones shoved directly in front of her face.

“Mrs. Novak, can we get your thoughts on the launch?”

Anne calmly set the suitcases down and straightened her dress. She put a smile on her face. She knew what the NASA protocol was, and to her, this was her job. “Sure. What would you gentlemen like to know?”

“Were you at all nervous or scared watching the rocket blast off?”

Anne did her best to sound upbeat and decisive. “I believe in NASA and the thousands of men and women who put in many long hours getting that Saturn V rocket ready to fly. I thought the launch was exciting, and of course, I was relieved it all went as planned. I know Tom had a wonderful ride all the way up.”

One of the photographers poked his head into the room before turning to Anne. “Is it okay if I get a couple of pictures of your son playing?”

Anne wasn’t sure the motel would approve of a child jumping on their beds, but still gave a nod.

“Mrs. Novak, are you going to fly back to Houston now?”

Anne regained her smile. “Yes. As you can see from my boy’s antics behind me, I need to get him back home to his friends.” A strong arm came out of nowhere and caught her off guard, wrapping tightly around her shoulders. Anne jerked her head over to see Chris Riddick standing next to her with a cocky grin.

The astronaut nuzzled in close. “Are these men bothering you?”

Chris’s strong cologne made Anne nauseous. She tried to pull away, but his grip was too tight. “I’m fine, thanks.”

A voice shouted out, “Hey! Aren’t you an astronaut?”

Chris looked at the reporter, his smug grin getting even bigger. “I am. The name’s Chris Riddick. I’m also a neighbor and friend of the Novaks’, so I expect you boys to be nice to this pretty lady.”

“Can we get a couple of shots of you two together?”

Chris pulled Anne even tighter. “My pleasure.”

Anne wanted to break free but feared such a scene might reflect badly on NASA. Unable to discreetly pry herself away, she had no choice but to force a smile in the direction of the flashing bulbs.

SOMETHING WASN’T RIGHT, and Tom worried the worst was happening. The third stage engine fired right on time, but the TLI burn sending them to the moon was not going smoothly. The engine growled as high-frequency oscillations vibrated their couches, a potentially disastrous sign. Even though his hand was on the abort handle, he planned on riding out the burn. He wasn’t concerned for their safety. His worry was that the shaking could lead to the engine cutting off prematurely. If that happened, there would be no trip to the moon. Without reaching a high enough velocity to escape their planet’s pull, the ship would be dragged back into a slow-decaying orbit until it plunged back to Earth.

“16, everything looks fine.”

Tom was pleased mission control wasn’t aware of the problem, and he certainly wasn’t going to alert them of the issue. He didn’t want to risk the mission being cut short. He steadied himself as he said with a strong and positive tone, “Roger, the ride is good.”

Staying calm, Kirk pointed to the obvious as he struggled to speak through the shaking. “You can see the vibrations on the g-meter.”

Staying off box so mission control couldn’t hear them, Tom answered, “Let’s hang in there. It appears Houston doesn’t see the problem.”

The shaking definitely wasn’t raining on Dusty’s parade. “What a ride! This might be our last chance to clear our sinuses.”

Tom smiled at Dusty’s little joke. With the acceleration creating a false gravity, the fluids in their heads were draining. With only thirty more seconds before engine cutoff, Tom crossed his fingers. “Thirty seconds until shutdown.”

Kirk revealed his concern. “Come on, baby, burn.”

Tom called out the final seconds. “5, 4, 3, 2, 1.” Right on the dot, the engine stopped. He informed Houston. “Cutoff!”

“Roger, 16, engine shutdown. All looks good.”

Tom checked their velocity and saw a reading of 35,520 feet per second. Perfect. They were going to the moon. Relieved, Tom wanted to give the engine a big kiss. The machine fought through the vibrations, sending them into deep space to fulfill their dream. He leaned over and flashed an enthusiastic thumbs-up sign to his partners. “Boys, we’re on our way!”

23

LITTLE GREEN MEN

All Apollo missions had their share of glitches, so it was no surprise Apollo 16 was experiencing one. Tom’s concern was how severe the situation was. A large, white panel dangling off the third stage booster was preventing the mission from continuing. The stubborn piece was one of four panels that had been protecting the lunar module during launch. These metal panels were supposed to open up like the petals of a flower so Kirk could pull their Apollo spacecraft away from the third stage. All four panels should have automatically dislodged and floated away, exposing the LM for capture. Kirk was to turn Galaxy around 180 degrees before returning to dock and pulling out the LM. Because the spidery-looking lunar module, nicknamed Explorer, was built with a fragile skin similar to tin foil, trying to retrieve it with an unpredictable panel nearby was simply too risky.

No way was Tom going to lose this mission, not after coming this far. Even though the dangling panel was as large as a garage door, it could easily be moved in space. While Kirk flew Galaxy close by Explorer, Tom spent well over an hour trying to convince mission control the panel could be manually released during a spacewalk. Houston wasn’t so sure and debated all possible solutions. No one came up with a better idea, and the final consensus was to either scrap the mission or attempt the spacewalk. The biggest concern was how the panel would react when it was dislodged. Many feared it could swing toward the astronaut, possibly ripping his suit. Tom argued it could be done safely. Houston finally relented.

Having trained over the last two years for the only spacewalk scheduled for their flight, Kirk pressed mission control to be the one to perform the fix. NASA eventually selected Tom because of his long EVA experience on Gemini. They considered this a unique and challenging spacewalk that no astronaut had specifically trained for. Houston felt Tom was the best man for the job, and as the commander, he was given the nod.

After jumping off Galaxy, as Tom slowly tumbled in space toward the Saturn V third stage, he was starting to question his bright idea. Space was just as Tom remembered; unforgiving and tough to conquer. His body was turning so that he had to crane his neck uncomfortably to see where he was headed. He was still on course to miss the panel and hit his target, the outside rim of the third stage. Even though his body continued to rotate, he held off reaching for his umbilical cord for fear he could alter his course. “I’m ten feet away.”

Watching from Galaxy’s window, Kirk responded with a dash of envy in his voice, “Roger, ten feet out.”

Luckily Tom’s body was going to be in a position where he could reach the outer ring, which was now just five feet away. Piece of cake. Just before impact Tom extended both arms to act as shock absorbers. He easily snagged the rim before his body continued into the dark crevice between the booster shell and the LM. He stopped his downward movement, transferring his momentum into a swinging motion, swaying into the rocket’s internal metal skin. The impact was hardly noticeable. That was fun.

Tom pulled himself up so he could peer over the rocket’s edge at Galaxy, floating about twenty feet away, his umbilical cord slithering in the darkness between the two ships. Both his crewmates’ faces were pressed up against the window. Tom shot them a thumbs-up. “Confirm safely on target.”

Houston answered, “Roger, Tom.”

Tom was pleased to hear David’s voice at CAPCOM.

The panel was dangling about a quarter of the way around the booster’s rim. Tom inspected the rim’s surface to determine if the area was clear of dangerous debris or jagged edges. The last thing he needed was a punctured glove. Confident all was good, Tom started to shimmy along the edge as his legs swayed out behind him. He glanced up at the quarter moon. Don’t worry, baby, we’ll be there soon.

Once Tom reached the panel, he studied the location where it was caught. It appeared a good swift kick would do the trick. “Houston, the problem looks minimal. I will attempt to dislodge the panel.”

“Roger. Take it slow.”

“Copy that.” From his struggles on Gemini, Tom knew he would need a good grip or he’d be the one flying away. He noticed some metal supports inside the rocket. He turned over so he was lying facedown, his feet toward the panel. When he reached for the supports, it dawned on him he hadn’t clearly thought out his plan. He couldn’t see behind him. He blindly moved his foot until he touched something solid above the rim. There you are. He slowly pulled his foot up, ready to give the panel a strong kick. Tom pushed down his leg as hard as he could. As his leg straightened out, his upper body moved forward, causing him to twist slightly. Considering how easy his follow-through was, he assumed he had missed the target. Eventually, his momentum swung his body around, and he was pleased to see the panel was no longer attached. He smiled as the sheet of metal tumbled away. He proclaimed proudly, “Houston, the panel has been cut loose.”

A wild cheer echoed in Tom’s headset before David called out excitedly. “Roger, Tom. Panel is released. Great job!”

Tom’s lower body suddenly changed direction, which was against all laws of motion. He looked down and was horrified to see gas venting from the bottom of his leg. He turned his leg over and winced in fear at the sight of a five-inch gash in his suit.

The cold, terrifying fact was he would be dead in less than two minutes.

Tom fought the impulse to panic as he said bluntly, “David, I ripped my suit.”

“Say again?”

Tom repeated more firmly, “My suit has been cut!”

“Your suit has been breached?”

A hollow moan echoed in Tom’s helmet. “That’s affirmative.”

“Can you manually seal the leak?”

There was no way Tom could reach the tear. “Negative.”

“Roger, you need to get back to Galaxy immediately.”

Staying composed, Tom expressed what the frank reality was. “Why? I’m dead in a few minutes. I’d rather spend my last moments talking to Anne. Is she in the VIP room?”

After some muffled sounds, David desperately answered back, “No, she didn’t make it in today.”

Disappointed, Tom leaned over the booster’s rim. He looked longingly down at the colorful planet slowly rotating below. His one and only true love was down there, and he wanted one last hug. An odd sensation began to overtake him, as if he could feel her presence. He was convinced she was thinking of him at that very moment. As his blood began to boil due to being exposed to the vacuum of space, Tom had to relay his feelings before his symptoms prevented him from speaking. “David, it’s as if Anne is here with me right now.”

“Copy that. I know how much she loves you, and I am sure she is there in spirit.”

His breathing was becoming labored. “I want you to give Anne the biggest hug you have ever given anyone and tell her it’s from me. Tell her I love her more than life itself, and I will be waiting for her in heaven.”

“Roger.”

Tears started to float in Tom’s helmet. With his throat tightening up, he was struggling to breathe. He had to convey one last point. He practically had to cough out his final words. “Bbbuut tell her I..I..don’t want to… see her too soon. I..I… want her to…to enjoy our grandkids.”

“Roger that, buddy.”

“…wake up, Anne, wake up.”

The voice startled Anne. She shot up like a dart, gasping for air, and turned with wide, anxious eyes. Standing next to her bed was Tom’s sister, Virginia, holding a tray with a cup of coffee, a donut, and the newspaper. Though Anne was relieved to have been awakened from the nightmare, she was afraid something was wrong. Still groggy, she stumbled on her words as she quizzed Virginia in a panicky voice. “What…what’s the matter? Is Tom okay?”

Her sister-in-law calmly set the tray on the bed. “Everything’s fine. You were exhausted, so I let you sleep in.” Virginia walked over to the curtains and pulled the cord, allowing a splash of bright sunshine to flow into the room. “Were you having a bad dream? You were shaking.”

Anne sat up in the bed. “I had a nightmare that something bad happened to Tom.”

Sitting on the bed, Virginia handed over the coffee. “I’m sorry to hear that. Well, everything’s fine.”

Anne looked at the clock. Her eyes got big again. She started to get out of bed. “Today’s Monday—Peter needs to get to school.”

Virginia stopped Anne with a calming hand on her shoulder. “That’s all been taken care of. I walked him to the bus stop earlier.”

Anne relaxed back in bed. She set her coffee down on the nightstand and turned up the volume on the squawk box, allowing her to keep track of the communications between Apollo 16 and mission control. She grabbed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “Thank you so much.”

“No problem. Also my dad called. He and mom will be here for the landing.”

“Great. Peter loves his Oma and Opa.”

Virginia picked up the newspaper and waved it around. “Guess who’s on the front page of the newspaper?”

Smiling, Anne reached for the paper. “Your handsome brother?”

Virginia grinned. “Nope.”

Anne opened the paper and was shocked to see a big picture of her and Chris together, his arm draped around her. “Oh my God.” She read the caption, Anne Novak celebrates the successful launch of her husband’s rocket with astronaut Chris Riddick.

“What’s the matter? That’s a great picture of you. You two make a cute couple.”

Anne directed an angry glare at her sister-in-law. “That man’s an ass. Tom can’t stand him and neither can I.” Anne looked out the window.

“I was just joking.”

“I know.” Anne lit her cigarette. “I hope Tom doesn’t find out about this.”

APOLLO 16 ZIPPED through deep space at over 25,000 miles per hour as it slowly rotated in the barbecue mode, ensuring the sun’s heat was evenly distributed along the ship. Looking out the small window, Tom put his hand up to block out his planet. Though he knew this moment would come, he was still in awe that he could cover his home planet that held his entire history with just his hand. He kept moving it back and forth, wondering what his loved ones were doing back on Earth.

Dusty broke the silence. “I just finished the calculations. Kirk, you did break the record.”

Kirk thrust his fist in the air. “Yes! Stan owes me a lobster dinner.”

Tom put a hand on Kirk’s shoulder. “I told you I picked the best CMP.” The long hours Kirk put in the simulator practicing to extract the lunar module using as little fuel as possible paid off. He had beaten his buddy’s record from a previous Apollo mission. Tom thought Kirk was carrying the competition a little too far during the maneuver, overriding Tom’s commands. But once they heard the twelve capture latches locking in place and they had a secure hard dock, Tom held no hard feelings toward his CMP. The pilot knew what he was doing.

All three men were well on their way to the moon, having successfully completed their midcourse correction. Their duties were limited over the next twenty-four hours, allowing them time to enjoy their adventure dressed in comfortable, cloth flight suits. Dusty had already checked out the Lunar Module to certify the spacecraft was fit for its short jaunt down to the lunar surface. The module was in great shape, and the extra space it provided was a welcome addition.

Dusty floated into his seat. He put his hand on his lower back and stretched. “I was so sure I would have one of the most comfortable sleeps of my life in space. You would think with no forces acting on your body, you would wake up without any aches. Well damn, my back is killing me.”

Tom chuckled. “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. That’s normal. Your spine stretches in space. That’s why your back hurts. Don’t worry. It’ll go away.”

Dusty narrowed his eyes at Tom. “Mr. Commander, is there anything else I should know about this trip that you are so conveniently not telling me?”

Tom smiled. “Only that there’ll be little green men waiting for us on the moon.”

Dusty laughed. “That sounds like a bad dream.”

A call from mission control interrupted the men. “Apollo 16, this is Houston. Come in.”

Tom clicked his radio switch. “Hello, Houston. Apollo 16. Read you loud and clear.”

“Roger. How’s the flight going?”

“Great. Both ships check out fine.”

“Roger. Everything looks good down here too. So how did you sleep?”

“I slept like a baby, but I think Dusty and Kirk had some issues. I’ll let Dusty update you on the specifics when he passes over the post sleep report along with what we’ve eaten over the last twelve hours.”

“Well that’s expected of those rookies. They’ll be fine.”

“Copy that.”

“I’m sorry to say none of your pictures were on the front page of the newspaper this morning.”

Tom looked over at Dusty with a smirk. “Who beat us out, some old lady getting a jaywalking ticket?”

“No, some pretty lady. Anne was on the cover.”

Tom, looking out the window toward Earth, said, “Wow, that’s great to hear.”

“So the world still cares. There was a nice article about Apollo 16 and the launch.”

“Great. So is Peter in the picture too?”

“Nope. Chris Riddick is, though.”

Tom looked down at the control panel. He put his hand on his snoopy cap, pushing on the ear phone to hear clearer. “Say again.”

“Chris Riddick. He has his arm around Anne. It’s a nice shot.”

“Roger. I’ll have Dusty give you the post sleep report. Over.” Tom clicked off his radio, annoyed by the visual in his head.

PAPERS WERE SPRAWLED all over Dick’s desk as he reviewed the latest data from the Apollo 16 flight. A knock on his office door broke his concentration. “Come in.”

The door opened slowly and Chris Riddick poked his head in. “Do you have a moment, Dick?”

“I’m kind of busy right now, Chris. What do you need?”

Not waiting for an invitation, Chris strutted right in, closed the door behind him and took a seat. “I need to talk to you about something important.”

Dick leaned over his desk. “You have two minutes.”

“Fine, I’ll get right to the point. I’ve heard rumors of an investigation going on regarding moon rocks missing, which makes me nervous. My gut tells me what I stumbled on with Tom a few years back is somehow involved. I feel I need to share what I know with the director.”

Dick suspected Chris was full of shit. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t heard of any such talk.”

Chris looked directly at his boss. “I have.”

Concerned that Chris might shoot off his mouth, Dick moved in closer, pointing his finger directly at the man. “What are you doing? I told you to drop this. I can still get the CIA to clean up that recording.”

Chris crossed his arms. “Sir, I know you said I would be on the U.S.-USSR mission, but I haven’t been involved in any of the early assignments. I fear that when the official crew announcements come out, I won’t have a slot, and that’s the last mission before the shuttle flies.”

Dick had to contain his anger. “Is that what this is all about? Damn it, Chris, you better never come in here again talking about this crap. I’ve told you I’d get you on that mission. In fact, I just recommended you for the prime crew, but now I’m questioning my decision.”

Chris put his hands up. “No, no, that sounds great. Keep me in that slot.” Chris started to get up. “I didn’t mean anything by what I said. I was just letting you know what I’ve heard.”

Dick pointed to the door. “Get out of here and keep your mouth shut.”

“Yes, sir.”

As Chris scurried out of the office, Dick whispered under his breath, “There is no way in hell I’m ever putting you on a prime crew, you snake.”

24

THE MOON

Knowing the moon was just outside the spacecraft gave Tom goose bumps. Even though he couldn’t see the massive rock, he could sense its mighty presence. For the full duration of their flight, Earth’s natural satellite had been hidden from view due to their position and the sun’s glare. Tom was thrilled to see his planet shrink to the point where he could cover it up with only his thumb, but he regretted not being able to see their destination growing larger. Part of him questioned they were actually going to the moon.

Apollo 16 was flying around the back side in the darkness of the moon’s shadow, out of radio contact with mission control. Kirk had rotated the ship so Galaxy’s engine faced forward. Flying at over 5,000 mph, the brakes had to be applied just right to put the ship into lunar orbit, which would happen after Kirk fired the engine for the Lunar Orbit Insertion burn. If there was a malfunction and the engine didn’t ignite, the spacecraft would swing around the moon at a high rate of speed and be flung back to Earth.

An eerie silence hung over the darkened cabin as Tom double-checked his LOI checklist with a small flashlight. Confident he was ready for the burn, he rubbed the three-day-old stubble on his chin as he looked up at the instrument panel. He patiently waited for code “99,” the signal to fire the engine.

A shaft of bright sunlight gradually lit up the cabin as they exited the moon’s shadow, still on its back side.

Dusty floated to his window and looked out. “Man alive! Check that out, guys.”

Sitting upside down relative to the moon, Tom got his first close-up of the desolate lunar surface. It completely filled up all five windows of the cabin. Long, dark shadows extended for miles off the many gray mountains and crater rims scattered about. Amazed by the sight, he had to pry himself away to focus back on the controls. “Gentlemen, we have a job to do. Let’s get this burn completed before we get carried away with what’s outside our window.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dusty and Kirk floated back to their seats and strapped themselves in.

Tom put his flashlight away. “Dusty, I’m going to want a six-minute mark.” The engine was programmed for a six-minute and thirty-eight-second burn, and Tom wanted to know when they passed the six-minute mark.

Dusty started fiddling with his watch. Even though the vessel had an event timer, the Lunar Module Pilot always seemed to rely more on the stopwatch feature of his Omega watch. “Roger. Do you want a verbal count down?”

“Yes, from ten, so make sure your watch is wound up.”

Dusty chuckled. “I’ve got you covered, Commander.”

“I also want a countdown to engine cutoff.” Tom needed to assure that the engine shut down automatically as scheduled, or he’d manually do it. If the engine was allowed to fire too long, it could send them crashing into the moon, but too short and they’d be in an incorrect orbit.

“Okay.”

The code “99” message flashed. Instantly, Tom called out, “Kirk, ignition.”

Moving quickly and decisively, Kirk pushed in the proceed button. The engine fired. “Ignition!”

“Dusty, start the clock.”

“Clock started.”

A gentle vibration occurred, causing Tom’s body to experience a smooth and steady push into his seat. He kept a close eye on the monitors.

An alarm sounded, catching the crew’s attention.

Dusty reported, “Cryo pressure alarm.”

Unable to get any advice from Houston because they were behind the moon and in Loss of Signal, Tom had to make a call on the alarm. He suspected the cryogenic fluids in the tanks were probably experiencing unnecessary mixing due to the vibration. If this was the cause for the alarm, it wasn’t a problem. He made a calculated decision and said calmly, “Ignore alarm.”

“Roger. Shutting off alarm.”

After a nervous five and half minutes, Dusty called out, “Coming up on six minutes.”

“Roger. Give me a countdown.”

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2… mark.”

“How do we look, Kirk?”

“She’s steady. Looking good.”

Dusty chimed in. “Coming up on shutdown. 10, 9…”

Tom positioned his hand, ready to shut the engine off if the computer didn’t do the job.

“3, 2… shutdown.”

Right on the money, the engine stopped. Quiet filled the cabin. Once again, America’s engineering prowess had come through with flying colors. Apollo 16 was in lunar orbit.

Kirk broke the silence. “She looks to be right on the money.”

Tom let out a deep sigh. “Excellent. Good job, men. Now let’s take in the sights.”

TWENTY-FIVE PEOPLE were packed into the Novak home in Nassau Bay, there to support Anne and watch as her husband landed on the moon. Though Anne presented a composed look, deep inside, her stomach churned. Part of her wished the house was empty except for Peter so she could be herself during the landing. She could be free to curl up on the sofa in her pajamas with her son and scream or cry as she wished. But instead, she had to perform hostess duty which added even more pressure. Not only was she playing the role of Mrs. Astronaut along with Mrs. Hostess, she also had to have perfect hair and clothes for the press outside.

The many photographers and reporters surrounding her house had been waiting all day for her to come outside and make a statement. This being her second mission, she knew how to deal with the press. She made up her mind she wasn’t going to address them until Tom had safely completed his first EVA. If she faced the media before then, that would mean something had gone wrong with the landing, a thought she didn’t want to consider.

Anne was in her noisy kitchen with other women who were bustling about preparing appetizers. Anne was putting cold-cuts on a tray.

Poking her head into the refrigerator, Virginia spoke up over the chatter. “Anne, do you think four bottles of Cold Duck is enough?”

“I don’t know. What do you think?”

Before Anne heard the answer, another lady yelled out, “Anne, where are the big bowls for potato chips?”

Anne was about to answer when Peter called out from the living room, “Mom, can I have a cookie? Opa says I can’t.”

Anne’s head was spinning, not knowing who to answer. She felt a hand grip hers. It was Joan with a determined expression on her face, pulling Anne out of the kitchen.

Joan barked out instructions as she walked. “Ladies, please figure out these things on your own. Virginia, let Peter have half a cookie, and tell him that’s it until after dinner.”

Pulling Anne through the throngs of people, Joan led her up the stairs to the sanctuary of her bedroom, locking the door behind them.

Anne wasn’t sure what her best friend was up to. “What’s up?”

“Honey, I know what you’re going through. Remember, I’ve already been through this, and I was a wreck the night David landed.”

Joan turned down the squawk box on the nightstand and snatched the pack of cigarettes and lighter. Anne grabbed an ashtray off the dresser and both ladies met at the center of the bed, sitting side by side. Anne placed the ashtray in between while Joan pulled out a couple of cigarettes, handing one to Anne. She placed the smoke in her mouth and leaned toward Joan for a light.

Taking in a deep puff, Anne instantly felt a calming effect come over her as she put her head back. She savored the feeling for a moment before blowing the smoke toward the ceiling. “So you were a wreck? You seemed so calm.”

Joan lit her cigarette and put the lighter down. “No, I wasn’t calm. In fact, I was the complete opposite, just as I know you are now. You looked like you needed a quiet moment away from everything.”

Anne took in another deep drag. “Thanks for saving me. I did.”

Joan put her hand on top of Anne’s. “Listen, I know you’re scared, just like I was. I can give you some BS that everything will be all right, but you and I both know the risks involved. I just want you to know I will be there for you, no matter what happens. You are my best friend and I love you.”

Anne turned her hand over and squeezed. “That means a lot. Thanks.” Anne looked at the light blue curtains covering her window. “It’s tough when there is nothing you can do. I like listening to the squawk box, but sometimes I’m afraid of what I might hear, like fear in Tom’s voice.”

“Nothing scares that husband of yours.”

Anne smiled. “I guess, but I keep thinking of our friends who became widows. I don’t want that to happen to me. I don’t want Peter to grow up without a father.”

Joan returned the squeeze. “I know.”

THE PURE OXYGEN flowing into Tom’s helmet dried out his tongue, making it difficult to moisten his chapped lips. He and Dusty stood in the Lunar Module in their spacesuits, anchored to the floor by harness straps. Having already separated the LM from the Command Module, Tom was now gearing up for the ultimate test for any pilot, landing on the moon. Once given the Go from mission control, he would arm the descent engine and give Dusty the order to ignite the rocket, sending their ship into a controlled fall toward the moon. Once the engine fired, there would be no turning back, no second chance. Everything had to go right, or they would be forced to abandon the attempt and return to the command module for home. The LM flew face down in a horizontal position, parallel to the moon’s surface, with the engine aimed in the direction of flight. Tom’s body was in that same horizontal alignment with his feet leading the way. He looked down through one of the two small, triangular windows at the barren scene passing by. You don’t intimidate me. We’re on our way.

Months earlier, Tom had made the decision he would take control from the computer at the 500-foot level. Though no one at NASA knew his plan, his copilot did. Both agreed not to leave their fate in the hands of a “blind” machine. It wasn’t that he didn’t think the computer could land their spacecraft, he just felt he was the better pilot. The way he saw it, he was in his position because of his flying skills, so why waste those God-given human talents here, over 200,000 miles away from home? Below his feet was the world’s first throttleable rocket engine that even allowed for hovering. No way was some computer going to have all the fun.

“Explorer, Houston. You are Go for PDI.”

Being cleared for Power Descent Initiation, Tom switched from the push-to-talk mode to the voice-activated mode, allowing mission control to hear everything he and Dusty said. “Roger, Houston. Go for PDI.” Tom flipped switches to arm the descent engine before giving Dusty the signal. The LMP nodded as he pushed in the proceed button.

Due to the initial low thrust, there was no obvious sign that the engine had ignited. Only the control panel in front of Tom confirmed the startup. “Ignition,” he said, adrenaline flowing.

It took less than forty seconds for the engine to ramp up to full power. At that point the cabin vibrated from the rumbling engine, and the LM started to slow, allowing the moon’s gravity to grab the ship and pull it down.

Dusty called out, “H-dot about 15 high.”

Dusty was reporting that their trajectory was a little high. Through years of training in the simulator together, both men had agreed everything inside the cockpit was for Dusty. He was to feed Tom all the necessary data observed from the instrument panel so Tom could keep his hands on the controls and make any adjustments needed without looking away from the window. Though this wasn’t critical at this juncture of the flight, it would be paramount during the last 5,000-foot drop. “Roger.”

Soon the engine automatically throttled down as they continued the braking. At the 40,000-foot level, Tom flipped the spacecraft completely over, windows up, pointing the landing radar down toward the lunar surface. The astronaut’s backs were now to the moon. All they saw out their windows was the darkness of space. This maneuver allowed the radar to determine their attitude. Once Dusty keyed in the appropriate codes, the computer started to accept the radar readings. Small thrusters stationed all around the ship came to life as the computer activated them to adjust the ship’s trajectory per the information it received from the radar. The ship shuddered from these corrective jet bursts, causing a bumpy ride.

Tom gripped a handhold, studying the instrument panel, confirming the computer was doing its job. All looked good. “Houston, Explorer. Altitude light out, velocity light out.” Tom informed mission control that the radar was on and working. A burst of color began to slowly creep into his window. The only color in deep space was Earth, which caught him by surprise. The fact that his home planet would be visible at this point of the descent was never discussed in any preflight meeting. He took it as a good omen, blowing a quick kiss in its direction.

THE GUESTS WERE crammed in both the living room and the adjoining dining room of the Novak home. With no television network breaking into their regularly scheduled programming to cover the Apollo 16 landing, Anne had the TV volume turned down low. Instead, the squawk box kept everyone abreast of exactly what was happening. Anne listened intently, especially whenever her husband spoke, trying to get any indication that something could be going wrong.

With the minute-by-minute flight plan spread out all over the dining room table, Anne relied on David to answer any of her questions. She stood next to the former moonwalker, pleased he wasn’t needed at mission control until Tom ventured out of the spacecraft.

David pointed to a timeline on the flight plan. “They’re approaching the point of Pitch-over.”

Leaning over the table, David picked up the silver and gold Lunar Module model. “Let me show you what Tom is preparing to do.”

David pretended the table was the lunar surface and lifted the model a few feet up, positioning it on its side. He then slowly moved it across the table. “He is flying the LM like this and will gradually pitch it up like so.” He rotated the ship slightly up so the four legs angled down toward the table with the windows facing in the direction they were going. “The LM will be in this slanted position so the engine can control their horizontal speed and ensure they don’t drop too fast.”

Anne stared at the spidery-looking model, still astounded such a weird-looking spacecraft could actually fly. She stared at the small window, imagining Tom peering out with determination on his face.

David looked at those who were listening. “This is the moment where Tom will show us his pilot skills.”

Anne took that to mean her husband was approaching a dangerous part of the descent. She felt an arm drape around her shoulder. She turned and saw Tom’s dad, Hank, wearing a fearless grin.

“Don’t worry, dear. Tom can fly anything. I betcha he does a pinpoint landing. The best one yet on the moon.”

25

SHOWTIME

There was a rush of activity taking place within the cockpit of Explorer as the spacecraft raced toward the unforgiving lunar surface at more than a hundred feet per second. Tom and Dusty were preparing for Pitch-over, the moment of truth for the commander. In anticipation of the maneuver, Tom took a second to loosen his grip on the hand controllers. He wiggled his fingers like a gunslinger getting ready for battle. This was why he signed up for the program. He was about to join one of the most exclusive clubs in the universe.

During private meetings with past Apollo commanders in preparation for the landing, Tom found many had an air of arrogance regarding another commander joining their group. Though all astronauts were basically a bunch of alpha males, commanders were unmistakably the leaders of the pack. Each one of these men felt he was the best pilot, hands down, no question, especially the Navy men with their carrier backgrounds. Though Tom respected them all, he was just as good and was ready to prove he belonged in the club.

As programed, the Lunar Module pitched over at the 7,500-foot mark, giving Tom his first glimpse of the moon’s horizon. Adrenaline rushed through his veins as he scanned the tapestry of craters in a mad search to locate their expected landmarks. The lack of shadows in the shallow craters made it difficult to determine their position. Tom had little time to waste. In less than four minutes he had to have them safely on the ground before running out of fuel.

Tom’s pilot training kicked in, and in his heightened state, he sensed time stretching, slowing things down. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a large mountain range appear, dwarfing their spacecraft. In all their simulations, they had never been provided with any side views. The fact that they were zooming across the face of a huge mountain gave Tom the sensation he was truly flying. The sudden spike in his heart rate probably worried mission control, but he was just excited.

Tom kept his cool. “Pitch-over.”

Etched on the commander’s window was a grid similar to a gunsight. This simple setup was Tom’s way of seeing roughly where the computer was taking them. Once Dusty read him the correct angles, all Tom had to do was line up the scribe marks. If he didn’t like where they were headed, he could make the necessary adjustments with his controls.

As the angles changed, Dusty called them out. “40 degrees… 38 degrees.”

“Okay.” With incredible focus, Tom continued to look for any recognizable landmark. He needed visual confirmation that they were on the right track. He was about to ask Dusty to take a look when he spotted Aggie Crater to his left. Just knowing one piece of the puzzle allowed Tom to quickly identify the other craters. He concluded they were slightly off target. The ship was heading northwest of their designated landing spot. Although landing right on point was not critical because of the lunar rover they brought along, Tom still wanted to top his fellow commanders. After minor corrections and firing the appropriate thrusters, Tom soon had the ship back on track.

Dusty called out. “5,000 feet, 41.”

In twelve seconds they had already descended over 2,000 feet. Tom continued to make slight tweaks to the controls-a couple of clicks left, three back-keeping their landing spot centered on the grid.

“3,000 feet, 52, 51, 49, 49.”

The craters were quickly getting bigger. Tom darted his eyes about until he found a safe opening. “Okay, I got a good spot.”

“Good. 48.”

In his helmet Tom heard mission control rattle off, “Explorer, Houston. You are Go for landing.”

Pleased with the “Go” signal, Tom rapidly spit out his response. “Roger. Go for landing.” Moisture beaded on Tom’s palms and perspiration welled up on his forehead as he continued to maneuver the Lunar Module while the computer rode the throttle.

“2,000, 46, on profile.”

Tom was happy to hear he was hitting his marks. He leaned up close to his window to get a good look at the spot he was shooting for. Though he would have to fly over a big crater just before touchdown, all looked doable. Dusty continued to read off the data in a crisp and disciplined manner as Tom skillfully guided them down. Once Dusty called out, 700, 50, Tom couldn’t contain himself any longer and took over control. He was ready to put this baby down. “Okay. Taking over, Dusty.”

In a confident tone, his partner responded immediately, “Roger, you’ve got P66.”

The P66 code informed mission control that Tom was now running the show. Apollo 16’s fate was in his hands.

Dusty’s voice became more animated. “Okay, 26 down at 500 feet.”

Tom no longer needed the landing point angles. What he needed were velocities and altitude. Per Dusty, they were dropping at 26 feet per second. He needed to slow down their descent. He switched to Altitude Hold, pitching the LM forward until they were almost vertical, letting the descent rocket brake their fall without slowing their horizontal flight.

A couple of irritating drops of sweat began to ooze over Tom’s eyelashes, distorting his view. He couldn’t chance the little pests seeping into his eyes. Not wanting to take his focus off the target, he blinked hard, successfully dislodging the little buggers.

“300 feet, 15.”

Tom was approaching “Dead Man’s Zone” where they would be unable to abort. After the two hundred-foot-level, their altitude wouldn’t allow for enough time for the ascent stage to ignite and stop their plunge. If any malfunction happened after that point, they were crashing onto the moon’s surface. Tom’s senses were working on overdrive. His hearing was tuned in to Dusty’s voice, his eyes took in the action outside his window, and his hands and body were feeling exactly what the machine was doing. Come on, Tom, get this right.

“200 feet, 11, 10 percent fuel.”

Tom pitched the ship slightly over to get a better look at the patch of land he was aiming for. A boulder field lay about fifty feet to the left but seemed a safe distance away. The area appeared level, but there was no way of telling for sure due to the lack of rocks big enough to cast shadows he could see. His concern was landing on the edge of the crater and putting the LM in a dangerously tilted position. Such a mistake would nullify the use of the ascent stage rocket, essentially making the Lunar Module their tomb.

“160, 10 down, give a couple of clicks up.”

Tom was so focused outside his window that it was tough to take in Dusty’s concern. But they were still descending too quickly. Ideally, they should be dropping at a slow, five feet per second, but they were at ten. It was as if his hand knew what to do and took over, slowing their drop, while his brain concentrated on what was going on outside. He was getting to the point where he had to stop their forward motion, but they needed another twenty feet to get past the crater.

“Okay, 5 down, 110 feet.”

A translucent sheet of moving dust started to distort Tom’s view. As he passed over the crater’s lip, he focused on a group of dark rocks he could see through the dirty buildup, helping him to determine exactly how the ship was moving.

Mission control came over the radio, “Sixty seconds.”

With two voices in his helmet and all the action happening outside, he had to sort through the chatter to extract information he needed. He convinced himself that sixty seconds of fuel was plenty, and he tuned out mission control. He straightened up the ship, completely stopping their forward motion. It was critical that they drop in a level and steady orientation to prevent snapping off a leg. He clicked the rate-of-toggle switch until he had their descent at the pace of a slow elevator. The dust was starting to blow up in thicker sheets, making it impossible to see the rocks that had been guiding him. He had no choice but to go by feel, hoping he wasn’t drifting back toward the crater.

“50 feet, down 3.”

For the first time, the shadow of the Lunar Module appeared on the surface. Even in the heavy dust, Tom could make out the legs’ shadows. He focused on those struts, watching the bottom of those shadows get closer to his spacecraft, his only visual indication of how high they were.

“30 feet, down 2.”

Tom was approaching the point where if he had to cut the engine, they would be okay with the hard landing. But he definitely didn’t want to test the theory. Contractors weren’t always right about their equipment. His plan was to cut the engine shortly after one of the nine-foot-long sensor probes extending off the legs came into contact with the surface. Once that happened, a blue light labeled Lunar Contact would glow in the cabin. If he waited too long past that point, it was feared that a rock could plug the engine’s fairing, causing a devastating explosion.

“20 feet, down 2.”

The ship’s shadow on the uneven surface didn’t help to determine if he was drifting. Finally the dust got so bad that he lost sight of his ship’s shadow. Come on, give me contact.

Dusty called out in an excited voice, “Contact.”

Tom waited a few seconds before calmly pushing in the Engine Stop button. A sudden hush filled his helmet as the ship plummeted the final five feet, hitting with a soft thud, thanks to the legs’ shock absorbers. Tom looked over at Dusty, who had a big grin. Tom broke the silence in his helmet by letting out an exhausted breath. He looked outside at the alien surface through the sun’s glare and dust. He shook his head, amazed he was on the moon. “Houston, Explorer has landed.”

POP, POP, POP.

Corks were flying all over the living room from folks opening bottles of Cold Duck to celebrate the successful landing. Virginia was giddy as she approached Anne with an open bottle of the bubbly along with a healthy stack of colorful paper Dixie Cups.

Virginia gave Anne a hug. “Looks like our Tom did it.”

Anne smiled as she grabbed one of the cups. Virginia poured the sparkling wine.

Tom’s dad approached, giving both his daughter and daughter-in-law a hug. Hank was beaming as he nabbed a Dixie Cup. “How about that?”

Anne continued to show a happy face, but her stomach was still in knots. It was tough for her to let loose and enjoy the party. Her husband was over 200,000 miles away in a dangerous and unforgiving place. There was no guarantee he would return, and that weighed heavily on her.

Hank put an arm around his daughter-in-law and toasted her cup. “Sweetheart, I know this is just round five of a fifteen-round fight. But Tom did a great job up there. I have every confidence in the world he will be sitting in this living room this time next week, probably asking you to make him a martini.”

Virginia chimed in, “Yeah, and you can tell Mr. Superstar to go make his own.”

Anne appreciated the two trying to comfort her.

Others came up to Anne, offering toasts and passing on their congratulations. She showed an excited composure as she hugged them all. After a while, she wondered where Peter was. She wanted to give her son a hug. She set out on a lone search for the boy. Unable to locate him in the house, she opened the back sliding glass door and popped her head outside. There sat Peter in the middle of the yard, his back to her, Dino obediently lying by his side. The boy petted his dog as he stared up into the early night sky.

“There you are.” Anne peeked up in the direction Peter was looking and saw the faint moon. She looked back at her son and crossed to him. “Peter, what are you doing?”

Peter spoke in a determined voice as he kept staring skyward. “I’m trying to see Daddy on the moon.”

The innocent and adorable comment touched Anne’s heart. A single tear welled up in her eye. She sat on the ground next to her son, her leg touching his. She looked up at the moon. “Have you found him yet?”

“Not yet, Mommy. Can you help me?”

“Of course, dear.”

TOM WAS HELPING Dusty put on his Portable Life Support System in preparation for their first moonwalk. The PLSS backpack was practically half as big as the astronauts, and getting it positioned on Dusty’s back within the cramped cabin was tricky. With close to a hundred hours training in the LM simulator, both men knew how to move around expertly without knocking into controls or each other. But during all that training, Tom never had the two-inch-wide metal cylinder in his front leg pocket. That bulge was just enough to cause him to change his routine slightly, forcing him to stand in a different position. It also reminded him of the covert operation he was a part of. He quickly put the thought out of his mind. His focus was on the lunar EVA coming up. There would be plenty of time the night before the third and final spacewalk to review how he was going to snatch the lunar material.

With their spacesuits still connected to the spacecraft’s cooling system, Tom’s suit was starting to get cold inside. “Damn, I’m freezing my ass off.”

Dusty laughed. “Me too.”

The sound of mission control suddenly filled the cabin. “Explorer, Houston. We copy that.”

David was now the CAPCOM to support the men on their lunar EVA. Tom was caught off guard by his friend’s response. He stopped for a moment wondering if the entire world just heard his comment. “What did you say?”

“Roger. We are just noting your hot mike.”

Tom almost cursed again when he heard that he had forgotten to shut off their transmission back to Earth. “Roger, Houston.” He switched off the voice-activated radio in frustration. “So much for a ‘G-rated’ mission.”

Dusty chuckled as Tom went back to work.

“So, Tom, any idea what you’re going to say when you first step on the moon?”

Tom smiled at the question. He looked out at the spectacular backdrop outside his window. “Who cares what I have to say? I’m not the first, the second, or even the third man to step on the moon. I’m the ninth, and nobody cares what the ninth man has to say, especially history.”

“Your family will.”

“Maybe, but that’s about it.”

“Of course, you could shock the world.”

With the backpack in place, Tom jostled around in front of Dusty to help hook up his partner’s hoses. Tom looked up at his LMP. “And how do I do that?”

Dusty said with a sly grin, “Tell them what you told me, that there are tiny green men running all around.”

Tom laughed. “Not sure Dick will go for that.”

“Perhaps, but it will get a lot of press and probably go down in history.”

“Yeah, as the stupidest statement ever made. I think I’ll stick with something less shocking.”

ANNE WAS PLEASED to see a news break on the television announcing that the Apollo 16 astronauts would be shown live disembarking from the spacecraft in approximately thirty minutes. She felt a soft hand on her shoulder and turned to see Joan holding a glass of wine.

“Would you like me to go upstairs and get Peter?”

“Thanks, Joan, but I promised I would wake him.” Anne excused herself and made her way through the excited crowd. Hank stood at the foot of the stairs.

“Off to get my grandson?”

“I am.”

“Need any help?”

“Thanks, but I got it.”

“Tell you what. I’ll wait right here, and if you’d like, I’d be more than happy to watch over him.”

Anne smiled. “That would be great. Thanks, Hank.” Knowing Peter was so afraid he was going to miss out on the big event, Anne wondered, as she climbed the steps, if her son had been able to get any sleep. When she approached Peter’s room, her suspicions were answered when she heard sheets rustling through the cracked-open doorway. As she gradually opened the door, the hall light inched across the bedroom floor.

Once the glow reached Peter’s bed, the boy shot straight up. “Is it time, Mommy?”

With a big grin, Anne flipped on the light. “Sweetheart, you were supposed to be asleep.” She crossed the room and sat on the bed next to her beaming son.

Peter’s hair was a mess. “I can’t sleep, Mom, I’m too excited.”

Anne tried to groom the boy’s hair with her hand. “I understand, dear. I’m excited too. Well…it’s time. Your dad will soon be walking on the moon. So let’s get you out of bed and downstairs with the others.”

Peter hopped out of bed and was at the door before Anne could even get up. The eager boy started bouncing on his feet waiting for Anne. She took Peter’s hand and proudly escorted the boy downstairs to his waiting Opa.

“HEY, TOM, HURRY UP!”

Considering Tom had just exited the spacecraft, he had to smile at Dusty’s impatience. His LMP couldn’t leave the ship until Tom was safely down the ladder and on the moon. “I’m hustling.”

After crawling out backward through the small hatch, Tom was currently on all fours on the Lunar Module “porch.” He reached over and pulled the release cord to deploy the cover of the equipment stowage. He watched the bay door slowly swing down toward the lunar surface. “Houston, MESA is released.”

David answered calmly from mission control, “Excellent, Tom.”

Using the low porch railings to guide him, Tom cautiously shimmied backwards on his hands and knees. Though he had practiced this exercise many times, it was still a challenge in a pressurized suit. He also couldn’t see behind him. He simply moved backward until his legs started to fall off the ledge. He positioned his boots on the second rung before standing straight up. Holding onto the railing, he radioed, “Houston, I am on the ladder, heading down.”

“We copy that, Tom.”

Unable to see the ladder below, Tom carefully counted off each step in his head until he was positive he was located on the last rung. He leaned over and looked down at the gold, gleaming landing pad just over three feet below his boots. The colorful, flickering foil contrasted drastically with the surrounding grays and blacks. It was as if the small, circular footpad was magically glowing, summoning him to step down and enter a new world that would change his life forever.

Tom grinned from ear to ear, jumped enthusiastically off the ladder, and floated down onto the three-foot diameter pad. He turned and looked out at the magnificent vista that engulfed him. His excitement was amped up to an all-time high. The last time he had this feeling, he was a young child about to turn on the lights in the wee hours on Christmas morning to see his gifts. “Houston, I am ready to step off.”

“Roger, Tom. Good luck.”

Tom jumped off the pad and floated for a long beat before landing firmly on the moon’s surface, his boots kicking up some fine lunar dust. The small particles hovered over his space boots. “Houston, you have one happy astronaut here. The ground is covered with a few inches of gray dust and all is okay.”

“Roger, Tom. Congratulations, and try not to get too dirty.”

Tom smiled at the poignant comment, remembering how David often bitched in private about the excessive dust he had to deal with inside the Lunar Module after his spacewalks.

Dusty chimed in with exhilaration in his voice, “All right, Tom, it’s time for me to come out and play too!”

Tom didn’t bother answering. He was too busy hopping around having a good time. “Oh, man, this is fantastic.”

“Closing hatch.”

Tom skipped his way over to the equipment bay. He eagerly flipped open his wrist checklist to verify what he needed to do next. A big grin shot across his face when he saw a picture of a Playboy Bunny taped to the second page, a beautiful blonde with all the right curves. He radioed into mission control, “David, I am on page two of the checklist. Tell the backup crew that everything checks out fine. Thanks for their help.”

A slight chuckle confirmed that his friend knew about the practical joke. “Roger, Tom, I’ll pass that on.”

26

LUNAR ROVER

Tom felt every ache and pain throughout his body. Every little noise echoed in his ears. The faint sunlight squeezing through the window shade penetrated his closed eyes. Come on, Tom, get to sleep! He squeezed his eyelids tighter, which only made his mind race more. Discouraged, he popped his eyes open and stared up at the LM’s ceiling a few feet above his face. After sleeping like a baby the night before in Explorer, he was disappointed he wasn’t able to get needed shuteye during the mandatory rest period. He had gone over in his head both the schedule for their final EVA and the steps needed to steal the lunar core sample. He was mentally ready for the following day’s activities. But for some reason, his mind wouldn’t allow him to relax.

Stripped down to his liquid-cooled undergarment, Tom struggled to get comfortable in his hammock, which hung crossways in the cabin just above Dusty’s. After long hours working in his space gloves, Tom’s hands were covered with many cuts and bruises. This made a simple task like adjusting his blanket painful.

Frustrated, he took a large breath. Inhaling the gunpowder-like smell from the many moon rocks stored onboard was just another reminder of where he was. He wanted to scream out in frustration. He rolled over and cracked open the fiberglass window cover that darkened the cabin interior. He looked down at the sundrenched lunar surface and focused with pride on the motionless American flag. He was still amazed he was actually on the moon. He tilted his head slightly up to Earth, high in the black sky. The heartwarming sight gave him some comfort. He pulled his arm out from under the blanket and positioned it so shards of sunlight hit his Omega watch. It was almost midnight in Houston. Anne was probably already asleep. He looked back out toward the colorful ball and blew her a loving kiss. Miss you, Sweetheart. Sleep tight. I’ll be home soon.

A whisper came from below. “Tom, are you awake?”

Tom quickly closed the cover. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

A bit louder, Dusty said, “No, I’ve been tossing and turning over the last hour. I just can’t get to sleep.”

“Me neither. It’s pissing me off. I might have to take some sleeping pills.”

Dusty let out a deep sigh. “I keep replaying our moonwalks in my head. It’s as if my mind is preventing me from getting any rest since this is our last night on the moon.”

“Maybe that’s it.”

“I can’t believe we’re down to our last EVA. Where did the time go?”

“It’s because we’re so busy. Every minute is practically accounted for.”

Dusty replied with sincerity, “Well, I bet you this will be the highlight of my life.”

“No doubt it will be tough to top this experience. I’m sure we’ll reflect on it and dream about it for the rest of our lives.”

Sarcastically, Dusty shot back, “You’re going to be dreaming about me, Tom?”

To keep the humor going, Tom answered, “When that dream has the Playboy Bunny on my checklist coming to life, I’ll make sure something happens to you. Not enough room in here for the three of us.”

“Yeah, just kick me out for another moonwalk.” After some rustling below, Dusty said, “So Anne is cool with you looking at a nude picture on the moon?”

Tom looked up at the ceiling as he thought of Chris with his arm around Anne. He said through clenched teeth, “Absolutely. We have total trust in each other.”

DUSTY YELLED OUT excitedly, “Whoa! Watch out for that one.”

Tom grinned as he veered the lunar rover around the 20-inch rock, lunar dust spitting out from the bottom of the spinning wheels, getting the men even filthier. With only a 14-inch clearance for the chassis, Tom had to avoid running over big obstacles. He was doing his best imitation of Mario Andretti as he raced dizzily through the boulder field, often going airborne due to the bumpy terrain. He felt like he was riding on a bucking bronco as he tried to make up time. They were thirty-two minutes behind schedule, and every one of those precious minutes cut into the time needed at the end of the EVA to snatch the lunar material.

Dusty sat in the right seat and was their navigator, picture taker, and tour guide for the folks back at mission control. His voice shuddered from the rough ride. “We don’t need to hit any more big rocks.”

The electric rover had taken quite a beating over the last few days from Tom plowing over his share of moon rocks, putting some golf ball-sized holes in the wire mesh that made up the wheels’ metal tread. “Gotcha, buddy.” The more Tom drove, the more comfortable and confident he became in the machine’s ability. It was a good thing both men were strapped into their “lawn chair” seats, or one of them would have certainly been thrown out. The only thing missing in all the fun was a booming sound system blaring Beach Boys music.

They had just finished up at their station 11 stop and were off to North Ray Crater. With their spacesuits pressurized, Tom chose not to fight the suit. He sat with his arms and legs extended in a relaxed and ballooned-out position. His only challenge was positioning his right arm and keeping it steady so he could operate the T-shaped hand controller that was located on the center console and operated the buggy. His fatigued arm had the handle shoved all the way forward as they flew over the surface at a record pace, rotating the handle left or right to avoid the fast-approaching craters and rocks.

Dusty radioed mission control, “At our ten o’clock position there are two very bright, small craters that are three to four meters across, with some whitish material in the center. We are in a distinct boulder field, heading west.”

Tom was so consumed with driving and making up time that he had no idea where they were. He was counting on Dusty to get them to their next location. With no reference points or distinct characteristics to stand out over the barren landscape, everything looked the same. The undisturbed gray hills and craters surrounding them looked like the hundreds they had already passed. Dusty’s map gave him the distance and heading needed to reach each destination, and the Rover’s navigation system fed him the needed data to guide him along. Unfortunately, the odometer was slightly off due to Tom’s crazy driving, making the wheels slip and go airborne.

Dusty called out in a relieved tone, “We are almost to North Ray Crater.”

Through all the bouncing, Tom was able to lift his sun visor to get a good look at the enormous crater they were approaching. It was by far the biggest they had seen, with a broad ejecta blanket. This was going to be a blast to explore. He quickly shut his visor and aimed for the monster.

THE DIMLY LIT Mission Operations Control Room glowed from the vast array of lighted console monitors and flickering digital displays that fed information to the young, energetic flight controllers monitoring the Apollo 16 mission. Anne sat watching the action in the quiet, glass-enclosed VIP area. Her attention was riveted on the large bank of projection screens spread out across the front of mission control. The futuristic displays had flashing technical data along with colorful, gleaming lines and dotted lights depicting maps and locations which made absolutely no sense to Anne. Her concentration was on the screen to the far right, which showed the live feed from the moon. Whenever the moonwalkers were in transit, the image on the screen was often of Kirk, busy in the Command Module, since the lunar rover could not transmit a TV signal while moving. Once the vehicle was parked, the screen was filled with images of the astronauts working on the moon. The voices coming from the room’s small ceiling speakers kept Anne abreast of all the action, even when her husband was joy riding on the lunar surface.

“Mommy, I’m hungry.”

Anne reluctantly tore her eyes from the screen to look down at her son, who was getting restless after sitting in the room for the last two hours. “Sweetheart, aren’t you enjoying listening to Daddy drive on the moon?”

Sitting on the opposite side of Peter, Virginia interjected, “I can take him down to the cafeteria to get a little something to eat if you’d like.”

Anne had to pull a few strings to get Virginia into mission control, and this was exactly why she had done it. After returning from the Cape, any time Anne wanted to go to mission control, Peter always begged to tag along. She was happy to take him, but it was only a matter of time before he would tucker out and ask to go home. Today Anne wanted to stay as long as possible. “That would be great, Virginia.”

Her sister-in-law started to get up when Chris Riddick entered the sparsely filled VIP area. Without hesitation he turned down the empty row right in front of the women. Anne quickly turned away without making eye contact. Joan, sitting next to Anne, also noticed Chris walking toward them and nudged Anne’s leg. Anne turned to her friend, rolling her eyes, and looked straight ahead into the control room. As feared, Chris stopped right in front of the three ladies with his hands on his hips and said, “Hi, Anne.”

Anne’s eyes didn’t budge as she answered in her best brush-off tone, “Hello, Mr. Riddick.”

Chris gave Virginia a good once over. “So are you going to introduce me to this pretty lady?”

“No, she’s not,” Virginia said, “because I’m not interested in meeting someone as pigheaded as you.” Virginia turned to Peter. “Come on, Peter. Let’s get you something to eat.”

Joan practically fell out of her seat trying to control herself as a slight giggle leaked out. Anne only smiled. She felt Chris staring in her direction, but she didn’t move. An awkward silence hung over them as Virginia and Peter worked their way down the row and out of the room. Finally, Chris turned away and left without saying a word.

Joan leaned over to Anne and whispered, “I like Virginia.”

WITH SOME EXPERIMENTS not going as planned and the astronauts running behind schedule, Tom figured the geologists and scientists at NASA were probably fighting over what the astronauts’ next move should be as they worked on the rim of North Ray Crater. He was glad David was CAPCOM, knowing the experienced moonwalker would filter out any unrealistic request.

“Tom, some of the boys in the back room would like you to get a sample from that big black rock east of the rover.”

In order to maximize their time, Dusty and Tom had been operating independently ever since they got out of the rover. It was obvious which rock Houston was referring to. It was the only black rock east of them and probably the biggest they had come across yet. He estimated it was about 100 meters out. “Roger.”

Tom looked over at his LMP, who was busy getting samples of small white rocks behind the rover. “Dusty, all okay?”

“I’m fine. Go on ahead. Gosh, these are some great samples.”

Tom waved and set off on his trek through the scattered stone forest. He found the easiest and quickest way to travel along the lunar surface was with a mixture of a hop and a jog, what he labeled the lunar gallop. Even though the moon’s temperature was 100 degrees hotter than when they landed, the blistering 200 °F temperature was only a minor inconvenience thanks to the cooling water circulating through their suits.

“Houston, I’m heading toward the rock.” Tom felt like a little kid as he bounded joyfully about. “Whoopee. I tell you, David, I wish moving around on Earth was this easy.”

David said with envy in his voice, “I know. I miss it.”

As Tom ventured away from the rover, the rocks he was passing were larger and larger. After a while it was becoming obvious that the rock he was aiming for was much bigger and farther away than he had expected. “Boy, this rock is really out there.” Tom figured he had gone well over a couple hundred meters.

Eventually he reached the giant boulder, which towered over him like a huge building. He decided to give it a name. “This is one huge rock. It’s as big as a house. I’m calling it House Rock.”

“Tom, we can’t see you on camera.”

Tom heard some static breaking into David’s response, a sign something was blocking his signal. Looking out in the direction of the rover, his view of it was blocked by some rocks. He hopped about twenty meters away from House Rock until he could see the rover. “See me now?”

David’s voice came through crystal clear. “We do. Can you work on the rock where you are?”

“That’s a negative. It’s about twenty meters over.” As Tom heard some mumblings, he looked over at the rock, then back at the rover in the distance. Since they were running behind schedule, this was probably his best opportunity to snag a lunar sample in secret. He was concerned he might be rushed if he waited until the end of the EVA, increasing his chances of being caught.

“We would like to keep an eye on you.”

“Roger, Houston. How about Dusty moving the rover so I am in view?”

The radio was silent for a moment. Tom assumed management was discussing the proposition, since only the commander was to drive the car. “Dusty, we want you to move the rover about twenty meters north.”

Elated, Dusty replied without hesitation, “Copy that, Houston. I would be happy to.”

Tom had to act quickly. “I will position myself over by House Rock at a good sample area.” Before mission control could object, he hopped over to the rock. He double-checked to verify that he was out of view before reaching down and ripping open the Velcro pocket on his pant leg. He quickly pulled out the metal cylinder and whipped the top open. He got down on one knee and forced the container as deep as he could into the rocky soil, scooping up a good sample.

Through radio static, Dusty called out, “This is some cool ride.”

Concerned Dusty might be pulling the vehicle into position, Tom looked up. He was relieved to see the buggy was still out of sight. He swiftly screwed on the cap and shoved the cylinder deep into his pocket before sealing it. When he looked up again, the rover was coming into view. He grabbed his hammer and raised it high, waving it back and forth. “Houston, I see the rover.”

“Copy that, Tom. We now have you in view.”

Pleased to have the secret sample in his pocket, Tom let out a deep sigh. He watched Dusty climb out of the rover. “Good job, Dusty.”

“Hey, that was fun. Let me know if you want me to drive us back.”

Tom knew mission control wouldn’t go for that. “I would get us lost. How about you navigate and I drive?”

“Roger that.”

Tom started hammering away on the massive boulder, but after a few minutes of pounding, he had nothing to show for his hard work. Man this sucker is strong. Frustrated, he lifted his sun visor to get a better look at his target. He repositioned himself, hoping for a better angle at striking the rock. When he raised the hammer above his head, he heard panic in Dusty’s voice.

“Tom, the rover is slipping!”

Without lowering his arm, Tom turned, and, in horror, saw the lunar rover slowly sliding backward into the crater. Dusty hopped toward the buggy in an attempt to save their ride. Concerned his friend might also be pulled into the crater, Tom cried out, “Dusty, don’t follow it!”

Dusty suddenly lost his balance, launching himself high above the lunar surface before crashing dangerously hard onto his life support backpack.

Oh my God! Tom instantly dropped his hammer and took off toward his friend.

JUST AS THE live feed of the astronauts went dark on the projection screen, the radio transmission in the VIP room was abruptly cut off. The lost transmission concerned Anne. The last communication heard was Dusty stating the rover was slipping. Anne knew if the astronauts were unable to retrieve the rover, they would have a long and strenuous walk back to the Lunar Module. She leaned forward to get a better view of the control room, hoping to get a read on the seriousness of the problem. She fixed her eyes on the flight director, who appeared to be barking out orders while scattered flight controllers rushed back to their desks. The many flickering red lights on the consoles made her nervous.

Anne turned to Joan, who was staring toward her husband working the CAPCOM desk. “Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

“I can tell by the way David is acting, it’s serious.”

This was the first time during the mission Anne was truly worried. “Were you ever cut off from the radio communications during David’s flight?”

A concerned look was etched on Joan’s face. Shaking her head, she answered, “No.”

Anne turned to the wives of the other crew members who were sitting side by side two rows back. Jean, Dusty’s wife, had both hands over her mouth, obviously understanding the ramifications of her husband’s words. Being the veteran astronaut wife, Anne kept her poise. She gave a self-assured nod, signaling all would be fine.

The tension was broken by Peter crashing through the door and excitedly sprinting down the aisle toward Anne. “Mommy, did Daddy write my name on the moon yet?”

“Not yet, dear.”

Behind Peter was Virginia, sensing something was up. With a raised eyebrow she whispered, “What’s happening?”

Anne lifted her hands, shaking her head. She turned to Peter. “Son, I forgot to feed Dino. Can you go home with Aunt Virginia and take care of that?”

“Can I come back? I want to see Daddy write my name on the moon.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” Anne looked at Virginia and whispered, “I don’t want Peter seeing any of this. I’ll call you later.”

Virginia nodded. “Come on, Peter. Let’s go feed your dog.”

Anne watched Peter skip out of the room before turning her gaze to the chaos in the control room. God, please let Tom be okay.

27

MONTANA

The rover looked helpless, sitting motionless in the mouth of the menacing dark crater. Tom was tempted to shimmy down the steep incline to save the ride, but it was simply too risky. He couldn’t chance slipping into the deep hole. If only they had the rappelling line he had argued for.

Tom looked over at his partner, still brushing off dust accumulated from his fall. “You okay?”

Dusty looked up, and answered sadly, “I’m fine.”

Tom could tell his partner blamed himself for the loss of the rover.

A static-filled radio transmission sounded in Tom’s helmet. “Tom, H…ston, can yo…ech the rov..?”

The radio transmission was breaking up because the rover’s S-band antenna was tilted away from Earth, their only link back home from their current location. “David, that’s a negative. The rover is twenty-five feet down in the crater. The slope looks to be thirty degrees. I feel it’s too dangerous to try and retrieve.”

“Repe…”

Frustrated at not being heard correctly, Tom repeated in a stronger voice, “That’s a negative!”

“Copy. Term…ate EVA. Retr… to lun… mod…”

“Copy that, end EVA and return to Explorer by foot.”

Disappointed, Tom looked over at his partner who surprisingly looked shaken with shock in his eyes. Dusty frantically started making hand signals, pointing toward the control unit on the front of his suit. A sudden chill shot through Tom’s body as he feared the worst. Concerned Dusty’s backpack might have been damaged by the fall, Tom got in position so he could check the readings on Dusty’s Remote Control Unit. Tom’s heart rate soared seeing warning flags on three critical status indicators. Dusty’s backpack was quickly dying, which on its own would be a problem the two could deal with. But the terrifying fact was, they were experiencing what NASA had been sure would never happen—a double failure. Protocol dictated that when a backpack and the rover failed simultaneously, the astronaut with the broken backpack was to be left behind to die.

By not talking, Dusty was preventing Houston from knowing his situation, leaving it to Tom to make the call on what was going to happen.

Regardless of protocol, Tom couldn’t leave his friend to die, just as Sam hadn’t left Tom stranded in space during the Gemini fiasco. Suddenly Anne’s faint lipstick on Tom’s bubble helmet caught his eye. He instantly relived the moment he promised her he would do everything in his power to return home safely. Attempting to save Dusty went against that promise. Tom estimated he could handle the tough walk back to the LM on his own. But if he took Dusty along, Tom would have to share his oxygen and cooling water along the way, giving them a less than fifty-fifty chance of surviving.

A pleading expression on Dusty’s face showed that he knew what was expected, and he grimly did a cut-throat sign before pointing to his chest. Tom focused back on Anne’s lipstick one last time before looking directly into Dusty’s eyes. Tom couldn’t live with himself if he turned his back on his partner. A burst of adrenaline shot through Tom as he adamantly shook his head “no,” indicating he wasn’t going to leave Dusty.

Houston’s static-distorted transmission ricocheted in Tom’s ears. “Tom, is ever…ing okay? We are get..g bad rea..ings from Dusty’s bac…ck.”

Tom figured the rover’s tilted antenna that also fed the status of the astronauts’ backpacks, was now giving inconsistent readings, preventing flight controllers from determining exactly what was going on.

“Houston, Dusty’s backpack is fine. We are leaving now.”

Tom doubted mission control was receiving a TV picture because of the rover’s position. Even so, he still clutched Dusty’s arm and moved him out of sight of the camera.

Since the two had excellent radio reception between them, due to the VHF antennas on their backpacks, Tom figured if he whispered only Dusty would be able to hear him.

Tom said in a barely audible tone, “We need to hook you up to my buddy system and to your emergency O2.”

Dusty answered softly, “Are you sure?”

Without hesitation Tom nodded.

Sharing Tom’s cooling water would allow for a lower flow setting on Dusty’s emergency oxygen supply, extending his air time to sixty minutes. Once that air ran out, Dusty could use Tom’s emergency supply, allowing for a total of two hours of oxygen. Tom figured they would need to average a walking speed of better than two miles an hour to make it back to the LM before Dusty’s air ran out. This was an exercise they had never trained for since NASA insisted only one man was to walk back under such conditions.

Tom positioned himself behind Dusty’s backpack, pulled back the Velcro cover and removed the stored eight-foot-long emergency buddy hose. Dusty pulled a similar hose from Tom’s backpack along with the six-foot tether line. The men hooked up the hoses to the cooling water connections on each suit. Dusty then pulled down on his actuator cable to start the flow of his emergency oxygen supply. Tom connected the tether line between them. If they pulled apart from each other, the shorter tether line would take the brunt of the force, preventing the longer hoses from being damaged or disconnecting from the suits.

Pointing along the rim of the crater as the path back to the LM, Tom signaled for them to start walking and took the lead.

Right from the beginning, the two astronauts struggled to stay in sync over the rough terrain as they followed the rover’s wheel marks in the regolith. Every three or four feet Tom was jerked back hard by the tether line, causing him to stumble and sometimes lose his balance. No matter what speed he traveled, he couldn’t get in step with Dusty. Finally, one strong tug brought Dusty hard to the ground.

Tom helped his partner up and said quietly, “We need to step in unison.”

Dusty whispered, “How about we walk side by side so we can keep an eye on each other?”

Tom liked the idea. “Let’s give that a try.”

“T… Hou…on, how’s it go…?”

Tom decided he needed to level with David on the seriousness of their situation. Remembering the secret code that they had set up while playing handball, he said, “A-okay. Dusty is wiping off his visor. David, I have to say it’s beautiful here. In fact, Smoky Mountain looks like the hills I saw in Montana when I was nine.”

“Yo… wer… in Mon…a at ni…?”

David was confirming he understood. Tom added, “Roger, family vacation in Montana when I was nine. The hills also look like those we saw from our hammocks in Panama.”

“Dur…g surv…al train…g?”

Tom hoped this clue explained their situation. “Roger, during survival training.”

“Cop… th…t.”

Tom looked down the ridge, estimating they had another 100 meters before reaching the bottom. He took a moment and followed the rover’s lonely tracks with his eyes through the barren landscape to the point where they disappeared over a hill. He needed to decide what direction they were going to take when they reached the hill’s base. The sure way of not getting lost was to stay on the rover’s tracks all the way back to the LM, but it wasn’t the most direct route and would eat into Dusty’s precious air time. Once they had traveled over 400 meters from the rover, they would lose all transmission with mission control, unable to get any guidance. Houston would continue to be in the dark on where they were or how they were doing until they were within range of the Lunar Module’s S-band antenna. Tom decided the smart move was to deviate from the rover’s tracks in a more direct heading toward Explorer. With Earth directly overhead and no compass, their only bearing would be the sun. It was a risky move and one they couldn’t afford to screw up. If he miscalculated and they got lost, they were dead.

“THIS IS HOUSTON. Do you read me, Tom?”

It had been well over ten minutes since David had last gotten a response from the moonwalkers. His friends were out of radio range walking back to the LM. David took off his headset and slumped back in his chair. He stared at his monitor, wondering what he should do. He decided he should at least confide with Dick on what he suspected was actually happening on the moon.

Dick was finishing up with his discussion at the flight director’s console. David jumped up from his chair, hoping to catch his boss in the back of the room where it was a little more secluded. David briefly caught Joan’s eyes as he walked toward the back. She raised her hands, questioning what was up. He just shook his head, gesturing it wasn’t good, before reaching Dick.

David caught up with his boss, tapping him on the shoulder. “Dick, I need to talk with you a minute.”

Dick stopped and turned. “Sure, what’s up?”

Leaning in close, David spoke softly. “I think things might be more serious than Tom is letting on.”

Dick raised an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

“Tom and I set up a coded way of communicating so only I would know how bad a situation was. He just informed me they’re close to dying.”

Dick narrowed his eyes. “What’s this code?”

“Whenever he says a state followed by an age, the age is how bad things are, which is between one and ten, ten being sure death. He just told me the Smoky Mountains were similar to hills he had seen in Montana when he was nine.”

“I thought that seemed odd, considering what they’re going through. Maybe he’s just concerned about walking back since it’s never been done before. They have plenty of air, so everything should be fine, right?”

David shook his head. “I don’t think they do. I know Tom, and for him to state their situation is a nine, something bad is happening. I believe they’re experiencing a double failure, possibly due to Dusty’s backpack being damaged from his fall.”

Dick took a step back, wide-eyed. “How did you come to that conclusion?”

“Tom made a reference to our survival training back in Panama. He mentioned the hills we saw from our hammock. Well, there were no hills, and besides, we were in a tent. But on one of those nights as part of our training, it was discussed what was expected of us if a double failure happened on the moon. Later that night alone in our tent, I asked Tom if he could ever leave his partner.”

“What did he say?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Shit.” Dick looked out to the front of the room with his jaw clenched, clearly weighing his options. After a long, motionless beat, he slowly turned back. “Since there is no way of confirming this hypothesis of yours, and nothing we could do anyway, I suggest we keep this to ourselves. No sense in alarming everyone.”

Dick looked up to the VIP room. “I’ve got to inform the wives everything’s fine.”

SILENCE SETTLED OVER the VIP room as Dick approached the front with definite purpose. Anne tapped her lips as she tried to get an early read on what might be coming. Her gut told her something wasn’t right.

Dick addressed the wives of the crew. “Ladies, I want you to know everything is fine. The men had to leave the rover because it slipped into a crater and was unreachable. We have terminated their EVA, and they are now walking back to the LM. There is nothing to worry about. All lunar EVAs are planned around the possibility of something like this happening. In fact, we have a name for it, called the “walkback limit.” This ensures the astronauts never venture farther away from the LM than they could walk back with the consumables available to them. Your husbands have plenty of air and cooling water. They have drinking water and even a couple of protein bars. This is something they have trained for.”

Joan stepped in. “Is mission control in the blind?”

Dick tipped his head forward. “Mrs. Grant, it’s obvious you’re a veteran at this. Yes, we are unable to communicate with the men right now, but that is expected until they are back within range of the LM’s antenna.”

Anne raised her hand and got a quick nod from Dick. “Tom mentioned a compass is useless on the moon because of no magnetic poles, so how are they going to find their way back to the lunar module while out of radio contact?”

As if expecting the question, Dick leaned against a seat and answered, “They simply follow the rover’s tracks. It’s not like other folks have been up there leaving trails to confuse them. Those tracks will lead them right back to Explorer.” He lifted both hands. “You see, there’s absolutely nothing to worry about. In fact, Tom just casually radioed in that some hills he was looking at reminded him of those he saw in Montana when he was a boy.”

Anne tilted her head. Montana? “That’s odd. He’s never mentioned anything to me about being in Montana when he was young.”

After a startled pause, a curious smile appeared on Dick’s face. “I will let you all know as soon as they radio in.”

As Dick left, Anne whispered to Joan, “I’m not buying it. Why did David give you that look if everything’s okay? Plus, did you see Dick’s reaction when I mentioned not knowing Tom had been in Montana?”

Shrugging, Joan simply patted Anne’s leg. “I’m sure everything’s fine.”

28

WALK BACK

Even though Tom was trudging alongside Dusty over the deserted wasteland, he had never felt so alone in all his life. Within the cocoon of his spacesuit he felt the isolation of the cosmic emptiness, and it was starting to have an impact on his psyche. The two walked in dead silence since earlier small talk had led to them losing focus on their steps. Breaking rhythm often caused the tether line to tug, sometimes sending one of the exhausted astronauts to the ground.

Their cadence had a calming effect on Tom, putting him in a near-hypnotic state. His attention rarely wavered from the moon’s surface as he marched forward, keeping a close lookout for obstacles. As he examined his path, he had to look through Anne’s lipstick mark. Seeing the remembrance from home had him thinking about his family and that moment when his wife had lovingly planted the surprise kiss there. He could easily visualize her face on the other side of his bubble helmet; her beautiful brown eyes looking into his. Not only did that image comfort him, it motivated him to do everything in his power to get back safely to her.

The black sky loomed over the many untouched gray hills that seemed to go on forever. It had been well over an hour since the astronauts had separated from the rover’s tracks. Parting from their security blanket and sure bet back to Explorer was a big gamble, and one Tom started to doubt. During survival training, he had learned that humans, without something to guide them, tended to walk in a circle. In order to keep that from happening to the two hapless astronauts, Tom relied on the sun. The golden sphere was their savior and guiding light. But there was no guarantee that they were aiming exactly right. They could easily be off their mark by a quarter mile or more and not know it. Since Explorer sat in a valley, being that far off course meant they could have a hill blocking their view of the ship and unknowingly walk right past it.

From the estimated distance traveled, Tom was positive they should be coming up on their spacecraft. The steep hill they were climbing hopefully would reward them with the glorious sight of their oasis. Tom blurted out a course correction insuring they stayed in sync with their steps. “Turn 30 degrees left, now.”

The two astronauts moved like Siamese twins as they curved on up the embankment.

The hum swirling around in Tom’s helmet from the cooling pumps operating in his backpack had been a reassuring sound, which wasn’t happening in his partner’s helmet. That hum was starting to get masked by the sounds of Dusty’s heavy breathing over the radio, which had been accelerating over the last fifteen minutes, a sign his friend was struggling. With the fierce heat beating down on the men, Tom was convinced Dusty was overheating, since the buddy system of sharing cooling water wasn’t as efficient for the “other” guy.

In an exasperated voice over the radio, Dusty reluctantly asked, “Tom, can we take a quick break?”

Tom hated to stop, especially since there was no assurance they would see the LM over the hill. What if it wasn’t there? What direction would they take then? Dusty was already using Tom’s emergency air supply. Would Dusty have enough air? Seeing his partner’s condition, Tom felt he had no choice but to stop for a quick breather. He lifted his hand to signal halt. “Okay.”

Both men stopped walking simultaneously. Unfortunately, because of his rigid spacesuit, Dusty had to keep standing instead of being able to sit down on the hill to rest. He leaned back slightly, letting his arms extend out in their desired position. His breathing stayed heavy.

Tom lowered his chin and with his teeth grabbed the food stick in a bag Velcroed just inside his helmet ring. He pulled up the bar and chopped off a piece. He chewed the candy-tasting stuff before taking a few big gulps of water from the tube by his mouth. Pleased to have the high-energy protein in his system, he looked up the ridge, estimating that they had another fifty meters before they reached the peak. He calculated his partner had around forty-five minutes of air left, so they should be okay as long as they spotted their ship from the hilltop.

Tom lifted his sun visor and gazed out over the moon’s horizon at the thousands of faint stars floating in the deep ocean sky. With Earth directly overhead and his helmet rigid, he was unable to lean back far enough to see his planet, but he felt its presence. He imagined each one of those stars represented a person from home holding a flashlight, there to help guide the two astronauts back safely to the LM.

Dusty spoke out in a surprisingly strong voice, “Okay, I’m ready.”

As Dusty straightened up, Tom saw his own shimmering image reflect off his partner’s gold-plated sun visor. Tom’s dirty white spacesuit with its bright red strips and colorful American flag stood out strongly against the moon’s dull colors. Seeing his own likeness so clearly was as if he was looking into his soul. Damn it, I’m not going to die out here! He patted Dusty’s helmet. “Buddy, you’re doing great. We’re going to make it. Let’s go.”

Both men turned and, in step, started trudging back up the hill, expertly avoiding tangling up their connecting hoses.

Soon the astronauts were about to approach their moment of truth, the summit. Tom attempted to cross a pair of gloved fingers. Come on, baby. Be in sight. As the vast landmass on the other side came into view, his heart instantly sank at not seeing any sign of Explorer. The ship’s reflective insulation would be like a bright beacon, easily standing out. He looked around, scanning for their home. “Do you see it?”

In a grim voice, Dusty responded, “No, I don’t. Damn!”

Letting out a tired breath, Tom had to decide their next move. He assumed Explorer was probably being blocked by one of the hills surrounding them. The question was, which one? Dusty was probably down to thirty-five minutes of air, only enough to go in one direction. Something in Tom’s gut was leading him to go a certain way. He lifted his arm and pointed. “I think we go to the right, over that hill.”

Dusty lifted his sun visor, allowing Tom to see his partner’s eyes. Dusty shook his head. “I think it’s to the left.”

Tom swung his arm and pointed to where Dusty was looking. “Over that hill? How do you know?”

“I don’t. It’s just a feeling.”

As the commander, it was Tom’s call, and this was going to be a do or die decision. Dusty did not have enough air for Tom to be wrong. He looked down at Anne’s lipstick impression. What do I do, babe? Tom looked in the direction Dusty wanted to go. Something didn’t feel right about that vector. But Tom wasn’t positive his route was right either. In fact, he figured it was probably a fifty-fifty shot either way, and if Dusty’s gut was right, he would redeem himself after losing the rover.

Tom asked, “Are you sure?”

Dusty nodded with a grin. “Sure enough to bet my life.”

Looking back in the direction Dusty wanted to go, Tom closed his eyes. He hoped for divine intervention. The unexpected image of Dino running around with Anne’s wig and Dusty catching the wild mutt flashed in Tom’s mind. He smiled at the amusing memory. I guess that’s my sign. “Okay, let’s go left.”

“I think you’re making the right call, Commander.”

NERVOUSLY, DAVID TAPPED his pen on his desk as he continued to send out periodic calls over the radio, trying to reach the Apollo 16 moonwalkers. “Tom, this is Houston. Do you copy?”

Only static came from the other end. A hand dropped on the CAPCOM’s shoulder, causing him to jerk slightly. Standing over him was his boss, who looked concerned.

Dick pulled out a nearby chair and sat down. “Have you heard anything?”

David shook his head. “Nope, not a peep, and I’m worried.”

Dick’s eyebrow shot up.

David felt he needed to elaborate on his concerns. “A controller just informed me he calculated exactly how far they will walk by following the tracks back to the LM. It’s almost five and half miles. I did my own calculations on how far they would walk in a straight shot back, and I calculated it’s roughly four miles. If I’m right and Dusty’s backpack has failed, he won’t have enough air if they follow the rover’s tracks. I’m convinced Tom knows this. I bet you he took them off the tracks in a more direct route back to Explorer.”

Dick’s eyes widened. “Damn.” He looked out toward the front of the room. After a long, motionless beat, he turned back with a solemn look. “Well let’s face it. If we don’t hear back from them within two hours from their last contact, and you’re right, Dusty will be dead.”

Shocked by his boss’s bluntness, David caught Joan out of the corner of his eye leaning against the VIP room’s glass barrier behind him. He couldn’t help but look back. Before acknowledging her, he felt a strong grip on his arm.

“I want you to look straight ahead.”

David turned to see his boss looking forward, not at him. Surprised, he asked, “Why?”

Without turning his head, Dick commanded, “Look forward.”

David followed the order and looked straight ahead.

Not moving, Dick instructed. “I want you to turn your head to me, smiling. Then I want you to point to the monitors and tell me Tom and Dusty should be okay, and do it so the VIP room can see you talking.”

Finally understanding what his boss was up to, David obliged and did as requested. Dick then turned with a wide smile and patted David on the back. He exaggerated his pronunciation of his words. “That’s great news.” He turned back toward the front of the room. With his face back out of view from the visitors, Dick instantly dropped his fake smile and said in a soft whisper. “The last thing I need is a panic in the VIP room.”

ANNE HAD BEEN studying the activity in the control room like a hawk and thought she saw something encouraging. “Did David just say everything’s okay?”

Standing directly in front of Anne, Joan had her hands up against the glass divider as she peered down into the room. Without moving, Joan gave a simple response. “Yeah.”

Anne tilted her head slightly. “You don’t sound too convincing.”

Not budging, Joan answered softly, “Yeah.”

“YOU OKAY?” The nasty spill Tom’s partner just took could have been serious.

Dusty slowly rolled over in the lunar dust and struggled to get up onto his hands and knees. He spoke in a tired voice, “I’m fine. Sorry about that.”

Droplets of sweat formed on Tom’s face. He rubbed his nose on the inside of his helmet to get rid of an annoying droplet. “Buddy, it wasn’t your fault.” Gloom hung over the two men. Neither one had spoken of the possibility of dying, keeping any negative thoughts to themselves. But the fact was, the clock was ticking and they still had no confirmation they were headed in the right direction. Without hearing from mission control, the pressure mounted with every step they took. Tom had been sending out calls periodically to Houston without getting any response. He bent over and helped his friend up.

Dusty wobbled slightly from exhaustion before standing. Tom steadied his friend and gave him a couple of light pats to clean off some of the gathered filth. Clouds of dust floated off the astronaut in all directions.

Tom’s emergency oxygen supply that Dusty was sharing, was running low. Since the spacesuits were not designed to share the main air supply, his partner would not have enough air to survive if Explorer wasn’t over the hill. Tom had over an hour and half of air left in his main system and would be able to continue the search. Leaving his dead friend behind would be devastating, a grim thought Tom pushed out of his mind. “We should be hearing from mission control any minute now.”

Dusty flipped up his sun visor, a concerned look on his face. “That’s if I was right.”

Staying encouraging, Tom answered, “I wouldn’t have gone this way if I didn’t believe in your gut.”

With a weary smile, Dusty flipped down his visor. The two continued their climb and soon approached the hill’s gentle shoulder. Though the other side was still hidden beyond view, Tom was getting worried. With the stronger antenna on the LM, he was sure they were in position to start hearing something from Houston, if in fact, Explorer was there. Tom anxiously sent out another call. “Houston, do you copy?”

Even with the cool air rushing over Tom’s face, droplets of sweat kept forming due to the tension in his body. “Houston, this is Apollo 16. Do you copy?”

A soft crackle came over the radio. “T…”

The hair on Tom’s neck stood on end. Did I just hear something? Tom quickly raised a hand, calling for a stop. Both men halted in their tracks. Tom held off asking Dusty if he’d heard anything in order to keep the radio clear. He closed his eyes and tuned out the sounds of his backpack so he could focus on any incoming radio signal.

“…ston …ead?”

There was no disputing the fact he was hearing something. Tom practically jumped out of his suit. “Dusty, did you hear that?”

“I sure did, boss!”

Excitedly, Tom radioed in, “Houston, we copy.”

Even though the communication link stayed garbled and unclear, the two men were getting the signal they were praying for, letting them know they were on the right track. With a second wind kicking in, both men bounded over the hilltop with a sudden burst of energy. Tom’s eyes widened as the most beautiful sight he had ever seen came into view. As if by magic, their safe haven and ride home, Explorer, was there, glowing as it patiently waited in the center of the desolate valley.

David in mission control finally came in clear. “Tom, Houston. What is your status?”

Tom raised his hand and the two astronauts stopped. “Houston, Dusty and I are fine and we see Explorer.”

“Roger, Tom. That is wonderful news. It’s great to hear your voice.”

“Copy that, David. You have no idea how happy we are to hear yours.”

Tom turned to Dusty and patted him on the back. “Looks like you were right, buddy. Good call!”

Dusty flipped open his visor, a relieved grin on his face. “Commander, you made the call.”

29

QUESTIONED

Tom was embarrassed by all the looks of admiration he was getting as he walked through the Administration Building on his way to Dick’s office. This was his first time back in the building since returning from the moon, and everyone he passed took the time to say something positive. Tom felt he should be thanking them. After almost dying on the moon, he had a newfound perspective on life. Though only he and Dusty knew how bad their situation had really been, anyone associated with NASA, no matter what their role, had a hand in the two making it back home safely. He did his best to acknowledge each person as they called out to him.

Tom reached Dick’s door and took a moment to clear his mind of all the accolades. Dick wouldn’t be awed by a moonwalker in his office. Even though Tom successfully passed over the lunar material to his boss on the recovery ship, Tom fully anticipated being drilled on the details regarding Dusty’s backpack.

After analyzing the mission data, a few flight controllers had suggested that the failure probably had happened sooner than Tom and Dusty were claiming. In an effort to take the heat off Tom for not leaving Dusty, both astronauts stated the unit broke down while walking back to the Lunar Module. Since the PLSS backpacks were left on the moon, there was no way of proving the story wrong. Without hard evidence, it came down to their word versus any superficial findings. Though Dick had been backing their story, he obviously wanted to know the truth.

After a quick knock, Tom gradually opened the door, peeking in. “Hey, boss.”

Looking up with a surprised expression, Dick peered down at his watch. “Wow, it’s 10 a.m. already?” He closed up the file on his desk. “Come on in.”

Tom took the initiative of locking the door and sat down.

Dick leaned back in his chair. “So, Commander, that was one hell of a mission.”

“That it was. Sorry we didn’t achieve all our objectives. I feel for those science guys whose experiments we didn’t get to.”

“Don’t sweat it. No matter what we do up there, I doubt that community is ever satisfied.” Dick lowered his voice. “So how the hell did you snag that sample without Dusty seeing you?”

Since it happened when his partner was moving the rover, Tom felt it best to stay away from specifics. “Let’s just say I found the right opportunity.”

Dick studied Tom for a moment. “Okay, we’ll leave it at that.” His boss clasped his hands together over his stomach. “Well I’m glad you were able to get it, and more importantly, that the two of you made it safely back to the LM.” The room quieted for a second as Dick calmly pulled out his chair and walked around to the front of his desk. He leaned back before crossing his arms. “So I have a question I want answered.”

Tom straightened in his chair. Uh-oh, here it comes. I hope I don’t have to lie.

“When did Dusty’s backpack fail?”

Wow, he’s getting right to it. Tom stared into Dick’s eyes. “Boss, as we explained in our debriefing, it happened about a quarter of a mile from Explorer. So with the emergency O_2 between us, Dusty had plenty of air to make it back.”

“I know what you two said on record. This is off the record. This is just between you and me. I think things occurred differently. I suspect the backpack failed earlier, probably on that crater rim when Dusty fell.” Dick bent over to get closer. “Did it?”

Tom began to squirm, trying to determine the right words without actually lying.

Placing a hand on Tom’s shoulder, the director broke the awkward moment, saying more softly, “I’ll tell you a secret. I was involved in some of the early meetings to decide how far we should allow astronauts to venture out with the rover. After shrinking the distance down to account for a single failure, many wanted to cut that distance again by half to account for the possibility of a double failure. Since the odds were extremely slim of that happening, the argument was that if the distance was cut that short, what was the purpose of even having the rover?” Dick took his hand off Tom, leaning back against his desk. He put his hands in his pockets. “Finally, the decision seemed to depend on me. I was asked directly if a double failure happened, would our astronauts accept the order to leave their partner to save themselves. Even though I knew it wasn’t true, I answered absolutely. I wanted our team to have the opportunity of using the rover.” Dick looked Tom straight in his eyes. “But I’ll tell you this. If I was put in that situation, there is no way I would ever leave my partner to die.”

Relaxing, Tom winked with a sly grin.

Understanding, Dick smiled. “I thought so. Listen, you’re a hero in my book and I’ll back your story. You did the right thing, regardless of when the failure happened. If there was a dead astronaut on the moon, this whole program would shut down. Apollo 17 would never happen.”

The stress flew right out of Tom as he practically melted into his chair from relief as Dick went back to his seat.

“Because of your heroics, I guess you won’t have your new title for long.”

Tom tilted his head. “What title is that?”

Dick grinned. “Last man on the moon.”

Letting out a hearty chuckle, Tom hadn’t even thought about the label. “No matter who has that designation, it won’t last long.” Tom thought back to Dusty’s comments about what Dick said and the possible bet. “Dusty mentioned you said it could be forty years before we get back to the moon after Apollo 17.”

“Yup, I said something like that. In fact, it might even be longer.”

“No way. That’s crazy. I’ll take that bet and even give you odds.”

Dick smiled. “Tom, I don’t want to take your money. Besides, I’m not sure I’ll still be around in forty years to collect.”

“I plan on being here.”

“I hope you are, and I hope you’re right. Maybe you’ll even get an opportunity to fly back someday with your son.”

“I’d love to show Peter his initials on the moon.”

Dick sat back in his chair, a devious smirk on his face. “Speaking of your son, have you been able to get in some quality time with the family lately?”

Tom crossed his legs, wondering where his boss was going with the question. “Not with all the post-flight appearances. Why?”

“Well, how would you like to take the family on an all-expense paid vacation to Disneyland and meet Mickey Mouse?”

What family wouldn’t want a trip like that? Tom knew there was a catch. “What are you talking about?”

Bending down behind his desk, Dick quickly reappeared holding a stuffed Mickey Mouse doll. Dick had a big grin on his face as he plopped the plush toy on the desk. “Guess what’s inside this?”

Tom tilted his head slightly. “I have no idea. Probably stuffing?”

Dick angled his body over his desk and whispered, “The canister you brought back from the moon is inside here.”

“Really? Why?”

Dick wiggled his eyebrows. “Your son is going to pass this over to a Soviet boy. That’s how we’re going to pull off the transfer.”

Tom had assumed he was done with the covert operation. Now his son was going to be involved. “What in the world are you talking about?”

“I have officially assigned you as the backup commander for the U.S.-USSR mission. There’s a big public relations event next week at Disneyland to kick off the project and officially announce the crews. One of the cosmonauts will have his family with him. He has a little boy around the same age as Peter. The plan is for your son to pass this Mickey Mouse over to that boy. Pretty ingenious, huh?”

Tom would rather Peter not be involved in the transaction. “How about I just give it directly to the cosmonaut myself?”

“That might look suspicious. Sorry, the plan is for Peter to do it. It’s all set up. It will come across as a kind gesture by an innocent little boy passing over a welcome gift. I’m sure it won’t be any big deal.”

Tom remembered Viktor had a boy Peter’s age. “Do you know who the cosmonaut is?”

Searching on his desk, Dick found what he was looking for. He pulled out a file and opened it. He ran a finger slowly down a piece of paper inside. “Umm, Viktor Alexandrov, and his boy is… Dmitri.”

“That’s the same guy I passed the material to in Geneva.”

Dick looked up. “Oh, that’s right. Interesting.”

“Is he on the prime crew?”

“Yup, looks like it.”

Tom was happy to hear the cosmonaut was finally going to get a space mission. “Good to hear. All right, so how is this all going to take place?”

“There is no real plan. It’s up to you how you pull this off. You may want to wrap this up like a present. I also suggest you have Peter pass it over when the families are first introduced. You don’t want to carry this thing around Disneyland worrying about it the whole time.” Dick picked up the toy and placed it across from Tom. “I want you to take this now and store it at home. I’m positive you won’t have any problem getting it off the grounds. Of course, hide it in a safe place.”

Thinking of Dino, Tom smiled, knowing the mutt would probably tear the doll to shreds if he got the chance. “I’ll come up with a good spot.”

“Great. I’ll get you all the details and tickets sometime early next week.” Dick lifted his hands. “Hey, you and the family are going to have a great time.”

Reaching for the stuffed toy, Tom hoped there wouldn’t be any surprises. “You would think.”

THE COSMONAUT CONFERENCE room was silent when Viktor entered. The only person in the room was the KGB agent, and Viktor had a good idea why the man was there. Viktor had been recently informed of a PR event he was to attend for the joint mission with the Americans that was to take place at an amusement park in the United States. He was told that during the trip, he would be a part of another secret transfer of lunar material, and it was imperative he bring along his family. With Maria just over eight months pregnant, Viktor was worried about his wife flying overseas and asked if she could stay behind. Viktor assumed he was going to get an answer to this request.

“Have a seat.”

Viktor sat at the table directly across from the man.

The KGB agent got right to the point. “I have been instructed your family must go to America, including Maria. They are needed in the plot to receive the Apollo 16 soil sample.”

Viktor had been informed the lunar material would be in a stuffed toy that would be given to his son. “Sir, can’t I just take Dmitri, since he is the one getting the gift?”

The agent looked sternly at Viktor as he said, “No, Maria must go. Since Dmitri will be the only Soviet child on the trip, it would look odd if you took him without his mother. We want it to look like a family enjoying a vacation.”

“She will almost be nine months pregnant, possibly giving birth during the trip. Do we really want that to happen? Besides, it will be dangerous for her to travel.”

“I have confirmed there will be fully qualified doctors accompanying the Soviet delegation throughout the trip. They will be able to take care of any medical emergency.” The man stood, signaling that the meeting was over. “Either Maria goes, or we will find another cosmonaut to fill your slot.”

Viktor lowered his head, thinking furiously. Even though Maria had already agreed to go on the trip privately to him, he was still apprehensive. Hearing that doctors would be with them at all times did make him feel more comfortable. He lifted his head. “Okay, I will bring the family.”

“Good.” Without shaking hands, the man left.

Viktor stared across the empty room, hoping he had made the right call.

30

DISNEYLAND

The Happiest Place on Earth was hopping with excitement outside the Flight to the Moon attraction, but all Tom could think about was getting rid of the stuffed Mickey Mouse. Ever since leaving Dick’s office, Tom couldn’t wait to get rid of the toy. The fact that lunar soil was hidden inside weighed heavily on his mind, keeping him up at night worrying about its safety. He was pleased to finally be at Disneyland and soon be rid of the stolen material. Tom’s son was to pass over the wrapped gift to Viktor’s boy. With introductions to the Soviets about to take place, Tom would soon be free of the burden.

The crews for the Apollo-Soyuz mission and their families were in an area cordoned off from the other Disneyland guests. Tom led his family closely behind the local mayor and his wife as the American entourage started to pass through a make-shift reception line filled with the visiting Soviets. Tom saw Viktor and his family about midway down the line. Along with the Disney officials escorting the group, the overall entourage consisted of personnel from both space agencies. Tom suspected some of the Soviets were probably government agents, there to keep a close eye on the cosmonauts and their families, making sure no one attempted to defect.

After reaching the first Soviet at the front of the line, Tom shifted to the side to allow his family to move up next to him to be introduced. Tom’s heart stopped at the sight of Peter standing empty-handed. The man said something in Russian, which Tom ignored. He instead directed an angry glare in his son’s direction and said sharply, “Peter, I told you not to set the present down. Where is it?”

Surprised by Tom’s outburst, Anne put a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Calm down, dear. Peter simply left it over on the bench. I’ll go get it.”

Tom nervously looked over to where they had been sitting and saw an old man next to the glimmering wrapped package, tying his shoe. Tom rocked on his feet until Anne had the gift in her grasp. As his wife came back, Tom let out a deep sigh, then turned back to the Soviet, apologized for his rudeness, and introduced his family.

After meeting a few other men, Tom saw a Disney employee walk by carrying a pair of Mickey Mouse dolls and hats. One of the black hats had Dmitri’s name stitched on the back. Since the boys were the only children among the group, Tom assumed the gifts were for them. Tom was concerned there could be a mix up between those Mickeys and the one Peter was going to give Dmitri. While a translator was helping Anne talk to one of the cosmonauts, Tom took advantage of the break in introductions to get his boss’s attention. Once Tom had eye contact with Dick, he motioned toward the Disney employee, who was passing the gifts over to a photographer. Dick seemed to understand the problem.

Dick excused himself from the line and walked over to the employee. Tom turned away for a moment to meet another Soviet. When he looked back toward his boss, he saw the worker depart with the stuffed toys, leaving the hats with the photographer. Tom flashed Dick a relieved smile.

Finally approaching the Alexandrov family, Tom was surprised at the sight of Maria’s protruding belly. She looked like she had a beach ball under her dress. He couldn’t believe the pregnant mother was on the trip. Tom turned and reached for Viktor’s outstretched hand. “Hello, Viktor, nice to see you again.”

Viktor bowed slightly as he gave a hearty handshake. “Dah.” He turned to his wife. “Thez Maria and son, Dmitri.”

Tom lifted the lady’s delicate hand. “Hello, Maria, nice to meet you.” Tom waved at Dmitri. Tom then stepped aside so his family could get closer. “This is my family. My wife Anne and my son Peter.”

Anne and Maria shook hands as Peter thrust the present in front of Dmitri. “Hi, this is for you. Welcome to America.”

Dmitri said something in Russian and pulled out a wrapped gift from behind his back, handing it over to Peter.

Surprised by the present, Peter immediately looked up to his father, questioning if he could open it. Getting a nod from Viktor, Tom gave his son the okay.

Viktor signaled that Dmitri could also open his gift. Both boys eagerly tore off the wrapping paper. Peter was the first to open his and excitedly held up a Soviet toy rocket. Being slightly older than Peter, Dmitri didn’t look too thrilled when he lifted the stuffed Mickey Mouse. Both boys said “thanks” respectfully in their native tongues.

Viktor bent down and whispered something to Dmitri. The boy freely passed over the gift to his father. Viktor then handed it to a man behind him.

Tom was relieved the transaction was finally complete and he could now enjoy himself.

Once the introductions were finished, the photographer asked the boys to get together for some pictures. After putting on the Mickey Mouse hats, the boys teased each other playfully as the pictures were taken. After a handful of shots, the boys were set free to play close by while the press began to take pictures of the crews. The astronauts and cosmonauts were strategically positioned by the photographer’s assistant around a spacesuit-wearing Mickey Mouse.

After ten minutes of various poses, the lead photographer called out, “Hold on, gentlemen, I need to change film.”

Peter worked his way politely through the men. When the boy reached Tom, he cupped a hand around his mouth and asked, “Dad, can Dmitri and I go ride the Matterhorn Bobsleds? Mom said it was okay if it was okay with you. A Disneyland man will take us.”

Tom was fine with the idea, though he doubted the Soviets would go for it. Tom tapped Viktor on the shoulder and asked. Viktor lifted his hand, indicating he had to check, and turned to his mission commander, Yakov Slavsky, standing next to him. Yakov had been slated to be on the first USSR moon landing flight. If the Soviet Union had been successful and beaten the Americans, the commander probably would have been the first man on the moon. Yakov seemed to have it in for Tom ever since they first met earlier in the day, possibly because Tom was a moonwalker. The Soviet commander glared back at Tom as he answered Viktor in Russian.

Tom knew what the answer was before Viktor swung back around. “Dmitri stay. Ve all do soon.”

Understanding, Tom said to his boy, “Son, not now. But maybe you two can go on this attraction.”

Eyeing the ride’s façade, Peter whined, “Flight to the Moon? That’s a corny ride. We want to go on a roller coaster.”

Considering that Peter had personally witnessed the real mission control during Tom’s flight, the boy was probably right.

The photographer called out, “All right, gentlemen, back in position, please.”

Tom shooed Peter away. “Sorry, Son. We’ll work something out later.”

With a dejected look, the boy walked away, disappointed.

After another round of photos, the photographer finally dismissed the backup crews, calling for only the prime crews to stay. Rudely, Yakov stepped in front of Tom, planting himself next to Mickey Mouse, which prevented Tom from getting by. Viktor saw the intrusion. He leaned toward his commander and said something while pointing back to Tom. Yakov turned, rolling his eyes at Tom before moving to the side. Cosmonauts were former military officers, and an underlying rule stated you never questioned your leader. Tom appreciated Viktor standing up to his commander on Tom’s behalf.

As Tom eased himself past the stubborn commander and walked away, Anne approached with a troubled look. She whispered with a tinge of panic, “I can’t find Peter and Dmitri. I think they snuck off.”

After a quick scan of the area, Tom had a good idea where they had scurried off to.

Anne glanced back at the table and said apologetically, “I would search for them, but I’m afraid to leave Maria. She is about to pop.”

Tom looked toward Viktor’s wife, who appeared uncomfortable, with her head down. Due to her swollen belly, she had to sit sideways at the table. Tom looked back at Anne. “I know where the boys are. I’ll go get them. If anyone asks, say I took them to get a soda.” Tom quickly nabbed one of the Disney escorts and took off.

When Tom arrived at the Matterhorn, as suspected, the boys were there, about a third of the way along the ride’s snaking line. They seemed to be having a good time. Tom waved, but got no response. With the loud yodeling music flowing out of the surrounding speakers, he had to yell to be heard. “Peter! Hey Peter!”

Finally, his son looked up with a big smile that instantly disappeared at the sight of his father. Sternly, Tom signaled for the two to come over. Hesitating for a second, Peter dejectedly grabbed Dmitri, and the youngsters slowly crawled under the railings and through the line of people.

As the boys approached, Tom gave his son the evil eye. “Didn’t I tell you not to go on this ride?”

Peter put his head down. “Yes, Daddy. But Dmitri…”

“No buts. Son, look at me.”

Peter raised his head.

Tom softened his voice. “Dmitri can get in big trouble leaving his group. It’s a form of desertion. People from the Soviet Union are not free to go wherever they want, especially in America. They can be arrested.”

Peter’s eyes got big. “You mean go to jail?”

Tom put his arm around Dmitri, who appeared not to understand what was being said. “That’s right, and you don’t want that to happen to your friend, do you?”

“No, Daddy, I don’t. I’m sorry.”

“Good, so let’s not have this happen again.”

“It won’t. I promise.”

Feeling that Peter had learned his lesson, Tom turned to the Disney escort. “John, do you think you could cut the boys to the front of the line?”

“Absolutely, Commander Novak.”

With a smile, Peter nudged Dmitri.

Bending down, Tom looked his son straight in the eye. “Because you gave me your word that this will never happen again, I’m going to allow you two to go on the ride.”

After a few excited hops, Peter again nudged Dmitri. “Yes, sir.”

The Disney worker clapped his hands hard together. “All right, boys, follow me.”

By the time Tom reached the boarding area, the kids were already being strapped into a bobsled. Peter happily waved back toward his father as the cart pulled away into a dark tunnel.

When the bobsled returned, the boys were beaming with joy. After exiting the sled, Peter ran straight to his father and gave him a big hug. “Thanks, Daddy. That was a blast.” Peter looked up. “You’re the greatest.”

Hearing those words brought a big smile to Tom, making the little escapade worthwhile. He lovingly returned the hug as Dmitri caught up. Excitedly, the boy said something in Russian. Peter looked up. “Dmitri thanks you, too. We both had a blast.”

Patting Dmitri on the head, Tom was amazed the kids understood each other. “I’m glad you two had a good time.” Remembering his alibi, he suggested, “How about we pick up a couple of sodas on the way back?”

Peter yelled out, “Yay!”

After getting the drinks, Tom rushed the boys along in hopes Dmitri wouldn’t be missed. But the situation looked grim as they approached. Yakov and one of the Soviet agents were questioning Maria aggressively. Tom assumed the interrogation was in regard to Dmitri’s whereabouts. The agent appeared to be forcibly gripping Maria’s arm.

Tom hurried over and called out innocently, “What’s up?”

Both men shot Tom a cold stare. Anne, sitting across from Maria, had a concerned look on her face, confirming that something serious was going down.

Tom raised his drink in the hope of calming the situation. “Kids were thirsty. So I took them for a soda.”

Dmitri ran over to his mother’s side and hugged her.

Lifting the cup higher, Tom said in a smart-alecky tone, “You know. Coca Cola.”

No one answered or smiled. Yakov gave Tom a nasty glare, as if he had undermined the commander.

Tom continued with his sarcastic attitude. “Don’t you have Coke in the Soviet Union?”

Yakov turned away in disgust, saying something to the agent before leaving in a huff. The agent let go of Maria and escorted Dmitri in the direction of his father.

Tom answered his own question, “I guess not.” Peter was at the end of the table drinking his soda and watching the people. As Tom took his seat, he looked over at Anne curiously. “What was all that about?”

“They’re upset that Dmitri wasn’t here. Even though I told them you took the boys for drinks, Yakov was convinced you took them to the rollercoaster.”

“Wow, they’re making a big deal out of this.” Tom started to get up. “I’ll go straighten it out.”

Anne stopped him. “We have other problems.”

Tom sat back down. “What?”

“Apparently Maria has been having contractions over the last few hours. Because she barely speaks English, I’ve been having a hard time understanding her. I don’t think she’s told anyone. As close as the contractions appear to be coming, I’m afraid she could have the baby at any moment.”

The worried look on Maria’s face confirmed the gravity of the situation. “Damn, let’s get her to a hospital.”

“I think she’s afraid to ask, worried it could affect Viktor’s position on his flight.”

Tom stood up. “Bullshit. Nothing’s going to happen to Viktor’s slot. Let me go talk to Yakov.”

With a strong grip, Anne pulled her husband back down. “Tom, don’t. She doesn’t want you to.”

Maria moaned softly and bent over in agony.

Tom’s heart rate increased seeing the expectant mother hurting. He couldn’t just sit idle. “We’ve got to do something.” Tom reached over and gently took Maria’s hand. She squeezed. After the pain subsided, she looked up with helpless eyes.

Tom wasn’t going to chance this sweet lady giving birth in the park, regardless of the consequences. “Tell you what. I’ll sneak her out of here to a hospital.” He patted Maria on the hand and said encouragingly, “Don’t worry, Maria, all will be okay.”

Thinking for a moment, Tom looked at the Flight to the Moon attraction and got an idea. He turned to Anne. “I’m going to let Viktor know what’s going on.” He stood up. “Then I’ll recruit help and we’ll sneak her out of here.”

Not waiting for agreement, Tom nonchalantly walked toward Viktor, who had his arm around his son. Viktor seemed to be getting reprimanded by the Soviet agent. After the man left, Tom approached, pointing to Dmitri. “Viktor, I’m sorry about taking the boys. They really wanted to go on that ride.”

“I know. All be fine.” Viktor said something in Russian to his son and patted him on the back. Dmitri put his head down and slowly walked back toward his mother.

Leaning in close, Tom whispered, “Viktor, Maria is having contractions.”

The soviet tilted his head, not understanding.

Tom pointed to his stomach. “Maria is in pain, baby coming.”

Grasping the emergancy, Viktor immediately headed for his wife.

Tom caught the cosmonaut before he could step away. “Viktor, wait.”

Viktor looked over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow.

“Maria is afraid to say anything. She thinks it might affect your standing on the mission.”

Victor angrily shook his head. “Ve have doctor, but he be in hotel with sick general.”

“Look, even if a doctor was here, you still wouldn’t want her to have the baby in the park. She’s pretty far along and needs to get to a hospital. Will your superiors allow her to go?”

Viktor shrugged in despair. “If no doctor, I not know.”

“Then let me take care of it so you don’t chance losing your flight.” Tom looked around to double-check no one was listening before leaning in. “I’ll sneak her off to a hospital. Once she’s safe, I’ll make sure someone gets you. You just pretend you have no idea what’s going on or where she is.”

Viktor tightened his mouth. “Thees best?”

“Yes, I believe so. This is best.”

Viktor looked back toward his wife. “Okay. I go kiss her. Take care my Maria.”

Tom patted the cosmonaut on the back. “Don’t worry, I promise everything will be fine. I’ll take good care of your wife and future baby.”

Viktor graciously bowed. “Spaseeba, comrade.”

Knowing spaseeba means thanks, Tom flashed a confident wink before the two separated in opposite directions. Tom slipped unnoticed through the crowd toward the Flight to the Moon entrance. He maneuvered up to the Disney employee taking tickets at the podium. “Excuse me. May I see the person in charge?”

Continuing to take tickets, the worker answered without looking up. “Is there something wrong?”

Tom fired back, “Yes, there is. Please get your boss.”

The man halted the line and squinted hard at Tom. After a motionless beat, he picked up a handheld microphone off the podium and turned away so as not to be overheard. After a few moments, the man spun back, pointing to a small, isolated area. “Please wait over there. My boss will be here momentarily.”

As the employee resumed taking tickets, Tom moved over to the area. He leaned up against the wall as he watched the people shuffling by, some doing a double take when they saw him, possibly recognizing him. He grinned at the irony of the situation. These people were passing a man who flew the actual version of the fantasy space mission they were about to take.

Finally, a Disneyland manager appeared. He wore thick, black-rimmed glasses, his greasy black hair pressed tightly to his head. He spoke with crisp precision. “Hello, I’m Dennis. I understand you have a problem?”

Tom decided to play on his celebrity. “Hi, Dennis, do you know who I am?”

Raising an eyebrow, Dennis slowly looked Tom over. “You look familiar. Are you one of the astronauts visiting?”

Tom moved in close so the others couldn’t hear. “Yes, I am. I’m Tom Novak.”

With a skeptical look, Dennis took a step back. “From Apollo 16?”

Tom raised both hands. “Yep, that’s me.”

The man’s expression relaxed. “Geez, didn’t you just walk on the moon?”

“I did. Last month, in fact.”

Dennis wheeled in disbelief. “Gosh, I can’t believe it. A moonwalker right here in front of Flight to the Moon.”

Tom paused to look around before saying in a hushed tone, “I need your help.”

The man sprang to attention. “Copy that, Commander. How can I be of service?”

Tom chuckled internally at the man’s eager response, almost expecting him to salute. “Try not to look too obvious, but see the pregnant lady in the blue dress behind me sitting at a table?”

Dennis looked past Tom’s shoulder and gawked at Maria, fooling no one who might be watching. “The one at ten o’clock?”

Tom took Dennis by the elbow and gently turned him around so he was no longer staring at Maria. “Yes, at ten o’clock.”

Dennis answered in a soldier’s cadence. “Ten four. I have her in sight.”

Boy, this fella’s into this. “She’s started contractions and I want to sneak her off to a hospital without alarming the press. Do you think you can help?”

“Yes, sir!” Dennis whispered, “So I don’t look conspicuous, I won’t point, but behind you where the restrooms are, is a Cast Members entrance door.”

Tom casually looked behind and noticed a restroom sign. Underneath was a wall that blocked the restroom entrances. “I see where you’re talking about.”

“If the two of you pretend you’re going to the restroom, when you’re behind the wall, you will be able to slip through the cast member entrance unseen.”

Tom turned back to the young man. “I like that idea.”

Dennis straightened his collar. “Thank you. We’ll take her to the Regional Medical Center that’s a few miles away. Be at the door in five minutes. Knock twice and I’ll be the one opening it.”

“Is that the back way out of here?”

“No, sir.” Dennis pointed to the gondola lift carrying colorful buckets filled with people that rose overhead for a journey across the park. “We’ll have to ride the Skyway. There’s access to the back lot at the drop-off point. I’ll have a car waiting.”

Tom looked up. He was concerned about the openness of the ride and Maria being seen. “Is there a more private way out of here? We’ll be recognized up there.”

“Hmmm, good point.” Dennis scratched his head through his greasy hair. His eyes boldly widened. “I’ve got it. Don’t worry, Commander, I’ve got you covered.” He looked down at his watch. “We should synchronize our watches.”

Struggling to contain himself, Tom kept a serious face as he played along with the sudden pseudo secret agent. Tom synchronized his watch with the man’s.

Dennis’s voice stayed intense. “Okay, I’ll be at the door in five minutes.”

Nodding, Tom answered with the same enthusiasm as his accomplice. “Roger that.”

Raising a hand, Dennis started counting down with his fingers, which Tom thought was hilarious. At the last finger Dennis whispered, “Commence operation, now.” Then he backed up slyly into the attraction, turned around, and pulled out his two-way radio as he walked away giving out orders.

Tom finally let out a suppressed laugh as he hustled back to the ladies. Viktor was at the table and noticed Tom approaching. The cosmonaut gave his wife a kiss before standing. He gave Tom a nod as he left. Dmitri sat over by Peter.

When Tom reached the table, it was clear Maria wasn’t doing well. Tom sat next to Anne. Speaking quietly so only she could hear, he explained the plan. Anne wisely pointed out it would look suspicious if he took Maria. They agreed Anne should escort her, meeting Tom at the restrooms. He reached for Maria’s hand, giving it a gentle pat. They stared momentarily into each other’s eyes. He sensed the worried woman was giving him her full trust. He wasn’t going to let her down.

Tom took a quick look at his watch. He murmured to Anne that it was time and took off.

Entering the blocked-off area to the restrooms, Tom saw the door Dennis spoke of, right next to the ladies’ entrance. To avoid the people coming and going, Tom stood over by the employee entrance, trying to give the impression he was waiting for someone. Within a couple of minutes, Anne and Maria entered the area. Tom quickly reached for the pregnant mother’s hand and said to his wife, “Thanks. I have it from here. I’ll see you at the hospital.”

Before going into the ladies’ room, Anne gave her husband a quick kiss and wished him luck.

Tom knocked hard twice on the Cast Members door. Dennis opened it instantly and signaled impatiently for them to hurry in.

Nudging Maria lightly, Tom helped the expectant mother enter. They followed closely behind Dennis as he guided them through a small maze of hallways, ending up in a room where a couple of cast members were taking off costumes. Dennis turned with a grin. “These costumes are going to be your ticket out of here.”

Tom couldn’t believe he was actually going to be a Disney character. Dennis handed Tom a Goofy costume while Maria got a Pluto one. Maria turned, questioning what she should do. Tom gestured they needed to put on the suits in order to get out of the park. Eventually, she seemed to grasp the idea, allowing the workers to dress her. Before they placed the Pluto costume’s big head over hers, she gave Tom a curious look. He just smiled and nodded, hoping to put the mother at ease. Once they were both dressed and ready to go, Tom couldn’t help being silly. He tried to imitate Goofy’s twang. “Gawrsh, Pluto, you look pregnant.”

Tom felt a hard tug on his arm. Since the costume head blocked all his peripheral vision, he found he had to turn around in order to see who wanted him. Dennis was vigorously shaking his head, a finger pressed against his lips. “Shhh, Goofy and Pluto do not talk—park rules.”

Tom flashed a thumbs up sign, showing that he understood.

Soon the two were escorted out the exit door, shuffled over to the boarding area of the Skyway ride. Screaming kids were trying to get Goofy’s and Pluto’s attention. Tom and Maria were pushed quickly through the crowd and onto a moving Skyway bucket. Tom was sorry he wasn’t able to acknowledge Goofy’s young fans. Dennis hopped in right behind them, just before the small door closed.

Once the bucket left the station, Tom gave a deep sigh that reverberated within his hollowed mask. It was now only a matter of time before Maria would be safely in the hospital. Unable to read her face and get a sign if she was okay, Tom patted her costume-covered hand consolingly. The big Pluto head didn’t budge. Because of the death grip she had on a handhold with her other hand, Tom wasn’t sure if she was experiencing another contraction or was simply made nervous by the swaying of the bucket. Regardless, he felt for the woman and gave her hand another reassuring pat.

Tom looked out toward the Flight to the Moon ride as they rose. The Soviet delegation appeared to be in disarray as Russian agents frantically searched around, probably looking for Maria. Tom caught Yakov, who seemed, oddly, to be staring in his direction. Tom was convinced the man had no idea he was the one in the Goofy outfit, so he waved at the commander. Yakov tilted his head slightly for a second before turning away.

Tom sat back, laughing.

31

HOSPITAL

A Soviet agent stood at rigid attention outside the hospital delivery room. Tom and Anne approached cautiously with Peter in tow. The family had been patiently waiting to see Maria and her newborn baby, even passing the time by having an early dinner in the cafeteria. Due to complications during delivery, Maria had to give birth by cesarean section.

Tom looked the agent in the eye. “We were told Maria can be seen now.”

The agent put his hand up for the family to halt. He stuck his head in the door. After a few moments of Russian voices coming out of the room, the agent swung the door open, motioning for the three to enter. Before Tom could lead his family in, Yakov came barging out, not saying a word. Tom felt obliged to recognize the commander and said hello. Without looking back as he walked away, Yakov raised his hand in acknowledgement and said under his breath, “Korolev live, I first on moon.”

Tom understood the cosmonaut’s frustration. The Soviets were beating the Americans in every aspect of the space race until Sergei Korolev, their lead rocket scientist, had died in 1966. Who knew what the outcome would have been if he had lived.

Entering the private room, the family was greeted by a joyful Viktor, arms extended. He immediately gave Tom a strong comrade’s hug, patting him on the back. “Velcome, my friend.”

Tom returned the pat then turned to Maria. Tom was happy to see the new mother comfortably propped up by a couple of pillows in the hospital bed. Her baby was swaddled in a cozy blanket, safely in the beaming young woman’s arms. A beautiful glow radiated from Maria as she reached out toward Tom. He quickly crossed to her, taking her hand. Tom noticed tears welling up in the young mother’s eyes, which he was sure were tears of joy. In a frail voice, she said something in Russian.

Walking up from behind, Viktor said sincerely, “Maria give much zanks from heart. Ve lose baby if not for you.”

Maria pulled Tom down and gave him a kiss on both cheeks.

Before pulling back, Tom patted the mother’s hand. “I was happy to help. I’m glad it all worked out.” He moved to the side so Anne could take a peek at the newborn.

Bending down to get a closer look, Anne said, elation in her voice, “What a beautiful baby.”

Viktor stuck out his chest. “Dah! She is girl. Name Anastasia. Ve call Anya.”

Anne touched the baby’s face lightly. “What a pretty name.”

Maria said something as she lifted the baby toward Anne, apparently offering to let her hold the child.

Viktor put his arm around Anne as she tenderly took the child into her arms. “Maria say Anya be daughter to you for vhat you, Tom, do.”

Flashing a smile toward Maria, Anne started to gently rock the baby as she looked down lovingly at the bundle of joy.

Enthusiastically, Viktor pulled out a bottle of vodka from a suitcase and snagged a couple of hospital paper cups. He looked at Tom. “Ve salute. Ve now brothers.” The Russian cosmonaut poured a shot in each cup, then handed one to Tom. They tapped their cups together and downed their drinks in a single gulp.

The men took a seat on the other side of the room while the women took turns holding the baby. Peter and Dmitri sat on the floor in the center of the room playing with a toy rocket set. Laughing and joking, Tom and Viktor continued to drink, picking up right where they had left off in Geneva. Tom found the cosmonaut was a warm and joyful man, different from the other Soviets he had met.

Tom had lost count of the number of shots he’d consumed and started to feel tipsy. He lifted his hand, telling Viktor, “Enough.” The cosmonaut ignored him, poured another round and passed over a cup. Tom relented and grabbed the drink. “Okay, Viktor, but this is the last one.”

“Fine, my friend.”

After downing the final shot, Viktor whispered with a slight slur, “Funny you think me KGB in Geneva?”

Tom looked over to confirm none of their family members could hear, and said softly, “I didn’t know what to think. I was pretty nervous about the whole transaction. I’m an astronaut, not some CIA agent.”

“Dah, and I cosmonaut. Not KGB agent.”

Tom nodded. Since Victor had brought up the subject, Tom wanted to address something bugging him. “So Viktor, why were you wearing glasses during that meeting?”

Viktor looked away. “Umm, more vodka?”

Tom could tell Viktor was avoiding the question. “Viktor, I think it’s pretty obvious you don’t wear glasses, so what was all that about?”

Viktor moved in close and said, in barely an audible voice, “Now you be brother, I open to you. Glasses have micro-camera.”

Surprised, Tom quietly asked, “What!? Why?”

“I take pictures.”

“What for?”

“For Soviet records.”

Tom shifted in his seat, worried the Soviets had pictures of him passing over the stolen material. “Why? What was the purpose of those pictures?”

Viktor, foot bouncing nervously, answered, “Nyet! No can say. But file buried and Saturn boosters buried in ocean. All fine.”

“Saturn boosters? So you know about the cryptic marks on those engines?”

With an intense look, Viktor placed a finger to his mouth. “Ve not discuss zis. Too sensitive. Trust me. I promise on Anya, I protect you. Nothing happen.”

Tom saw the boys get up. He held off saying anything further as they approached.

Peter stepped in front of his dad, crossed his arms, and said with a pout, “Dad, can we go back to Disneyland now?”

Tom had promised Peter in the waiting room that they would return to the park as soon as they could. Tom looked to Viktor. “Can Dmitri go back with us to Disneyland?”

The cosmonaut shook his head. He bent down so he was eye level with the boys. “Peter, Dmitri not go tonight. But ve stay more days for Dmitri mom get better. Tomorrow ve all go?”

Peter looked up. “Dad, can we go tonight and tomorrow?”

Considering how disappointing the Disneyland trip had been so far for Peter, Tom was happy to reschedule their return flight. “Sure, Son.”

Once Viktor explained the plan to Dmitri, the boys jumped up and down excitedly together. Peter then tugged on Tom’s shirt. “Come on, Dad, it’s getting dark. Let’s get going.” The boy ran over to the ladies, pulling at his mom’s dress.

Cradling Anya, Anne looked toward Tom, wondering what the commotion was all about. Once he explained the plan, Anne agreed to go to the park. But she insisted the next day she stay with Maria while the men and boys explored the playground. All agreed.

Full of energy and ready to go, Peter started anxiously pulling again on his mother’s dress.

Before Anne could pass the baby back, Maria said something, which Viktor translated. “Maria ask Peter vant hold baby.”

From Peter’s reaction it was obvious the boy would rather get back to the park. But the offer seemed important to Maria. Tom felt his son needed to be respectful. “That’s a great idea. How about it, Son?”

Peter responded, “Do I have to?”

Tom gave his son a stern look. “Yes, just for a moment.” Tom pulled a chair over, patting it for Peter to sit. The boy reluctantly walked over and sat.

Anne carefully placed the sleeping baby in Peter’s lap, positioning his hands correctly. “Be very gentle, dear.”

Once the boy had a secure grasp, the parents took a step back to admire the two. Peter’s body stayed uncomfortably stiff as he stared at the group impatiently.

Viktor put his arm around Tom. “Comrade, zey make a cute couple, no?”

Tom grinned at the cosmonaut. “You never know, my friend. You never know.”

32

LET SECRETS DIE

FORTY YEARS LATER

Anya slowly lifted her head, her eyes filled with shock. “Oh my God!”

Peter looked back down at his phone again, hoping to get a clue on what had just alarmed his wife, but was unable to come up with anything. Anya had obviously deciphered the mysterious Russian writing from the picture he took inside the F-1 engine. He did a quick scan of the Seven Seas deck to ensure no one had noticed his wife’s stunned reaction, then he leaned in and asked, “What does it say?”

Anya stood rooted to the deck. She started moving her mouth but nothing came out.

Peter nudged his wife lightly, curious what the fluorescent lettering said. “Come on, what is it?”

Finally, in a faint voice, Anya answered, “It says ‘Approved by V. Alexandrov.’”

Floored, Peter took a step back. He couldn’t believe what he just heard. He looked intently into Anya’s eyes. “What?

Your dad approved this part?”

Anya shrugged. “I think so.”

Peter moved in close to see the picture again, looking for any sign of Viktor’s name. “Really? What else does it say?”

Anya slowly read off the information. “It says USSR – OKB1 – 30NK15, then the same part number we saw on the other side followed by N1 Rocket. It then says, Property of Soviet Union, followed by Dad’s approval.”

Peter ran his fingers through his hair. “Those numbers signify it was designed for the first stage engine of the N1 Rocket.” He interlaced his fingers behind his head. “Wow. I can’t believe your dad approved this part.”

“I know.”

Looking out over the water, questions started circulating through Pater’s head. Why did the Soviets have a part on a Saturn V rocket? Why was florescent paint used? Was there some secret agreement between the two countries? Something definitely wasn’t right about all of this, and Peter had a sneaking suspicion their fathers were involved. He turned back to Anya. “Remember when I told you about the last night your dad and I circled the moon and he got a little tipsy?”

Anya nodded.

“When he was reminiscing about his relationship with dad…” Seeing a worker approaching, Peter stopped talking and moved Anya to the side so the man could pass. Once the worker was out of earshot, Peter resumed. “Your dad jokingly mentioned that my dad thought he was a KGB agent when they first met during a private, top-secret meeting in dad’s hotel room.”

“They had a top-secret meeting?”

“I know. Shocked me too, especially during the Cold War. When I tried to question your dad further, he skirted the issue. He started rambling about crazy stuff like your mom wearing a Pluto costume and my Dad saving your life.”

Anya put a hand on Peter. “Oh my gosh, I forgot about that. Is Pluto the dog?”

Peter looked at his wife curiously. “Yes, Pluto’s the dog.”

“I remember Mom telling me about wearing a dog outfit so she could sneak out of Disneyland.”

Peter shook his head, confused. “What?”

“That’s when I was born.”

“Really? Because your dad said something about me holding you after you were born.”

“You held me?”

“I guess. I don’t remember. Anyway, your dad finally answered me, denying he ever said top-secret, though I know he did. But since we believed we were soon going to die, I didn’t see any point in pressing him.”

“So you think this engine is related in some way?”

“I do, especially considering that the pictures Dad had appeared to be of the same part. Think about it—your dad’s name is on it. My dad had pictures of the part locked away in a safe. Mom told me Dad was involved in a covert operation and your dad said he met my dad in a private, top-secret meeting, during the Cold War! I think it’s not a question of if our fathers were involved. The question is, to what level were they involved? Somehow both our fathers had something to do with this part being on an F-1 engine. The fact that there is no public record of a Russian part ever being associated with a Saturn V rocket, well, it can’t be good. You know, if this gets out, it would surely lead to a major investigation, possibly damaging our fathers’ legacies.”

Kevin approached from the other side of the engine. He extended a small, white cloth toward Peter. “Sorry it took so long to find a clean rag.”

“No problem.” Peter grabbed the towel and wiped his hands as he stared at the engine. He couldn’t let this information get out. If he was going to make a move, he had to do it now. But he couldn’t do anything with Kevin there. Peter turned toward Anya and waggled his eyebrows once before looking back at Kevin. “Anya needs to go to the restroom. Could you please show her the way?”

Kevin started looking around for help.

Picking up on the cue, Anya took Kevin by the arm. She said in a flirtatious voice, “It would be wonderful if you could escort me.”

Peter whispered, “Yeah, she’s embarrassed with all the stares she’s been getting.”

Anya tugged Kevin away from the engine and she said softly, “I would just prefer someone to walk me over there.”

With a reluctant smile, Kevin got the hint and led Anya in the right direction. Peter knew his wife would keep the worker away for a while.

Scanning the ship’s deck, Peter tried to determine how he could erase the evidence. On the other side of the blue drum on the ship’s deck was a big red tool box. He first looked around to make sure no one was watching, then pawed through the box’s contents. He came across a small cordless grinder. Perfect.

Snagging the tool, Peter hustled over to the side of the engine where he could access the back end of the part. With the various noises of tools humming in the background, he hoped the sound from the grinder wouldn’t stand out. He double-checked again that he wasn’t being watched, and then turned the device on. Holding the tool securely in one hand, he grabbed a support with the other, and, with his arm fully extended, reached deep inside the dark crevice. Unable to see the markings, he went on his memory of its location and pressed the small spinning blade hard against the metal part. The sight of a shower of tiny sparks whipping off the blade along with the strong odor of burning metal verified he was doing some damage. Afraid the excessive noise might be heard and he might be stopped prematurely, he moved the grinder in a wide crisscrossing manner, hoping to get as much of the area as possible.

After about a minute’s work, the tool began to slip through Peter’s sweaty hand. He turned the grinder off, set it down, and wiped his hand on his jeans. No one seemed to have noticed what he’d been doing. He pulled out his phone from his pocket and shown the black light into the darkness to check out his handiwork. Though erratic scratches cut wildly through the florescent paint, a few letters could still be determined as Russian. He retrieved the grinder and finished the work. He briefly considered erasing the part number on the front side, but because it had been seen, he decided it was best to leave it alone. He was convinced nothing could be proven from the number anyway.

Shortly after placing the grinder back into the tool box, Peter saw Anya and Kevin returning. Peter innocently placed his hands in his pockets, giving the impression he had been inspecting the engine the whole time. As soon as the two walked up, Peter immediately grabbed his wife’s hand. “Sweetheart, we need to get going.”

While being pulled away, Anya called out to the bewildered worker, “Thanks, Kevin. Good luck with your wedding.”

Without telling Anya why they were rushing off, Peter led his wife through the maze of equipment littering the ship’s deck. Once they reached the gangplank, Peter swiftly helped Anya disembark, ignoring her questioning look. As they hustled down the metal footbridge, Peter heard his name being called out. Without breaking stride, he looked back to see Ted hanging over the railing.

The CEO had his hands cupped around his mouth. “Hey, Peter, where are you going?”

“I got an urgent call from Washington. There’s been an accident. Another agent will probably be back later.”

“Did the markings tell you anything?”

Peter yelled out as they continued down the gangplank, “Nothing.”

As they exited onto a walkway parallel to the ship, Anya nestled in close with a raised eyebrow, her hair brushing his cheek. “What did you just do?”

Peter wore a Cheshire cat grin. “I preserved our fathers’ good names.”

Suddenly, Ted called out for them to stop.

Peter took his wife’s hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

The two took off running, giggling like a couple of school children.

The Hoax Trilogy

Copyright

All characters in this book, with the exception of Sergei Korolev and Paul Calle, are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The names, incidents, dialogue, and opinions expressed are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Nothing is intended or should be interpreted as expressing or representing the views of the CIA, NASA, CNSA or any other department or agency of any government body.

USSR HOAX

Copyright © 2016 by Paul Gillebaard.

All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

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Hardcover ISBN: 978-0-9839561-5-0

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9839561-6-7

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Back Cover

Content

Paul Gillebaard
USSR HOAX
PREQUEL TO MOON HOAX

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

1 SECRET PAST

2 INSPECTION

3 SPACE RACE

4 ASTRONAUT MANEUVERING UNIT

5 THE ENEMY

6 NOT RIGHT

7 BACK OFF

8 MOON MEN

9 TEMPTATION

10 WHAT TO DO?

11 THE DECISION

12 ONE GIANT LEAP

13 THE CAPER

14 LOST SECRET

15 A BAD MAN

16 GENEVA, SWITZERLAND

17 IT’S OFFICIAL

18 MISS YOU

19 FINAL WEEKS

20 SUIT-UP

21 WAHOO!

22 ON OUR WAY!

23 LITTLE GREEN MEN

24 THE MOON

25 SHOWTIME

26 LUNAR ROVER

27 MONTANA

28 WALK BACK

29 QUESTIONED

30 DISNEYLAND

31 HOSPITAL

32 LET SECRETS DIE

The Hoax Trilogy

Copyright

Back Cover