USSR Hoax

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!”