USSR Hoax (Hoax Trilogy Book 3)

by Paul Gillebaard

  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, attempt
ing 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 bes
t 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.