USSR Hoax (Hoax Trilogy Book 3)

by Paul Gillebaard

  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 u
p 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.