Space Hoax (Hoax Trilogy Book 2)

by Paul Gillebaard

  I fly as a cosmonaut in honor of a friend and ask for your guidance. See you and Maria soon. Viktor Alexandrov.

  A twinge of sadness shot through Peter, knowing Viktor signed this before going on their flight. He was proud to see that Viktor honored Peter’s father. “Your dad never told me about this. You can see our fathers were close.”

  “Just like we are.”

  Peter smiled. “Yes, like us.” He picked up the pen and gently rolled it between two fingers. Since the page Viktor signed was filled with the signings of the men on the current mission, he needed to write on the next empty page, directly across from his old partner’s quote. He flipped the pen over and began to write with certainty.

  I am honored to sign next to such a courageous and superior cosmonaut, whom I was lucky to fly with. I ask you and Viktor for your guidance and blessing. Peter Novak

  Peter admired his words for a second before sliding the book back to Dmitri.

  Dmitri studied the entry. “Very nice.” He gently closed the book and put it to the side. His demeanor changed and his voice was suffused with a sense of urgency. “Now we need to get down to business. So do you have any questions?”

  Peter turned to a certain page in his file. Since the cosmonauts would be breathing a nitrogen/oxygen mixture in the Soyuz, he had some worries. “I’m concerned about decompression sickness setting in with the cosmonauts during the transfer.”

  “We’re concerned too. As you have read, the pressure in their flight suits needs to be reduced to 3.9 psi to permit three men in suits to fit into the Orbital Module and allow for the flexibility to move around and handle the rescue. We figure they have about forty minutes at this lower pressure before decompression sickness kicks in. Of course, the clock starts when they close their visors and start depressurizing the spacecraft, which should take eighteen minutes before their hatch is open. Once safely in your spacecraft, they can immediately hook up to the oxygen units provided by the ISS to increase their pressure. The order you will save them is flight engineer, tourist, and then the commander. We don’t want Carlos by himself.”

  Peter remembered the difficulties of moving in space. Everything seems to happen in slow motion. “That will be tough, transferring them one at a time.” He figured even if everything went smoothly, it would be tight to transfer all three separately in less than twenty-two minutes, and if time ran out, the commander would be the one to experience the sickness.

  Dmitri squinted hard as he took a deep breath. “We have no choice. Unfortunately, that will not be your only time constraint. Each man will stay hooked up to the Soyuz’s air supply until their turn to leave. When they disconnect, their only air will be what’s remaining in their suit. Depending on how calm they are, we estimate this to be in the range of six to eight minutes.”

  Peter put a hand around his chin and squeezed. “Wow, transfer each in six minutes.” That would be a challenge. “I’ll rely on the commander to keep me abreast of the time.”

  Dmitri shook his head. “Sorry, there was not enough time to modify the Skylab suit’s connections to allow you to hook up our snoopy cap. You will not be able to communicate with the men.”

  Peter straightened up in his chair. “Will I be able to communicate with mission control?”

  Dmitri answered in a matter of fact tone. “No, not during the rescue.”

  The mission was getting trickier. “What about the oxygen supply in my suit?”

  “There were two small oxygen packs supplied by NASA on the plane you arrived in. These, along with your spacesuit, are being prepared as we speak. These packs attach to your leg. Both you and Alex will do a decompression and prebreathe pure oxygen for an hour before docking with the ISS, using the ship’s oxygen supply by means of a strapped on air mask. You will use one of the small oxygen packs for your transfer to the ISS and the other for the rescue. We figure each should give you about sixty minutes of oxygen. You should have as much as thirty minutes left over in the first pack that can be stored in Galileo and used if needed. You will be hooked up to Galileo’s pure oxygen supply when flying over to the damaged spacecraft.”

  “Is the spacecraft spinning?” Peter knew any explosion would start a spacecraft rotating in some gyration, adding to the complexities of saving the men.

  “No. We were able to stabilize the craft.”

  “Good. Dealing with a tumbling Soyuz would have been a trick. How about the SAFER?”

  “Two ISS astronauts should be doing a spacewalk now, attaching it on the outside of the Galileo. You will be able—”

  Dmitri was interrupted by a hard knock at the door. Peter turned around to see the door swing open and reveal a middle-aged Russian in a blue FKA jump suit standing there. The reflected sunlight in the hall highlighted the man’s sun damaged face outlined by sloppily groomed salt and pepper hair with a bushy mustache sitting on a grin. The short man entered and went directly to Peter, extending his hand. “Hello, Peter.”

  Peter stood. Chumakov written on the man’s pocket confirmed this was his pilot. Peter firmly grabbed the man’s hand. “Hello, Aleksandr.”

  “Call me Alex.” While still holding his hand, Alex gave him a solid pat on the arm. “It is honor to fly with you.”

  Peter bowed his head slightly. “Thank you, but the honor is all mine. I know you are one of FKA’s best.”

  Alex smiled as he let go of Peter’s hand. “I know Viktor a long time. You two do special mission together, flying Soyuz to moon.”

  With his thick Russian accent, Alex reminded Peter of Viktor. “I was honored to fly with Viktor, and I was very impressed with the Soyuz.”

  Dmitri interjected. “Gentlemen, have a seat.” As the two sat, he continued. “Alex, how did your medical check go?”

  “All fine. I live another fifty years. Are we still on schedule?”

  “Yes.” Dmitri did not take his gaze off Alex. “Due to the rush of this mission, and the fact Peter doesn’t speak Russian, Capcom will speak English.”

  A surprised look flashed on Alex’s face. All past Soyuz missions launched from Baikonur had been in their native language. Peter glanced down at his watch. He estimated the stranded cosmonauts had a little less than twenty-six hours of time left. He interjected. “When should we arrive at the space station?”

  “In order to get you two to the ISS as soon as possible, Alex will fly into a higher orbit and brake, allowing the station to catch you. Though this is the method we plan on using next year, it’s still an undeveloped technique. We calculate it will take about six hours.”

  Peter was impressed at the short duration.

  A slight smirk appeared on Dmitri’s face. “And this time Boris will be expecting you.”

  Peter smiled, remembering the harsh welcome he had received from the ISS commander on his last mission. He started rolling Dmitri’s pen between his fingers. “How much time do you estimate we’ll have after we arrive at the station to pull off the rescue?”

  “After undocking the Galileo, if all goes according to plan, you’ll have about seven hours to rescue the men.”

  “Any idea how long before I rendezvous with them?”

  “We estimate about four hours.”

  “Damn, that’s cutting it close.”

  “Yes. Therefore, we cannot afford any mistakes. Everything must go as planned.”

  Alex interjected with confidence. “Not worry. We carry out mission as plan.”

  Peter smiled as he looked at Alex. He was sounding more and more like Viktor.

  THE SUIT TECHNICIAN finished attaching Peter’s gloves to his spacesuit and spoke with a slight Russian accent. “How feel?”

  Peter moved his hands around. Though the gloves were a little roomy, he was satisfied they wouldn’t cause a problem. “They’re fine.”

  “Before put helmet on and pressure test suit, please walk around, let’s see all okay.”

  Peter nodded and started to get up out of the chair. Seeing he was struggling, the suit technician reached down
and helped him up. Once standing, Peter first started moving his arms around. He then rotated his body from side to side. He felt like the robot from Lost In Space as he continued moving his arms. “Danger, danger, Will Robinson.”

  The suit tech gave him a questioning look. “Be there a problem?”

  Peter smiled. He had to remind himself he was with the Russians. “Sorry, everything’s fine. Just an old American television show.”

  Peter was expecting a heavy, bulky suit, but was amazed as he started to walk around. For a forty-year-old design, the suit was surprisingly light. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a distant, familiar image. He turned to see a full-length mirror about twenty feet away. Chills ran down his body as he stared. The Skylab suit was basically the same as Apollo’s. It was as if he was looking back in time at his dad. How do I look, Dad? At this distance, he was unable to read the mission patch or name, but there was no mistaking the big American flag on his arm. The stars and stripes stood out proudly on the white spacesuit. A sense of pride came over him as he walked toward the mirror. Soon he was able to read Robinson. His smile widened when he saw the triangular light blue mission patch with its big number three plastered off center signifying they were the third and final crew to visit the Skylab space station. He remembered his dad teasing Dusty, insisting they should have put the number four since it was actually the fourth rocket in the Skylab program. The first rocket was the massive Saturn V that put the unmanned station into space. Three smaller Saturn 1B rockets followed with the crews. Some of the press initially labeled those rockets as two, three and four, causing confusion over the correct designation for years.

  “How she feel?”

  Peter turned. “Oh, feels great.”

  The technician pointed back to his seat. “Good. Time we pressure test it.”

  As they started back, Dmitri entered the room and came right toward them. Dmitri’s eyes widened as he approached. “Wow, you look just like your dad.”

  Peter stopped. “I know, I thought the same thing.”

  Dmitri shook his head. “Amazing. So how does it feel?”

  “Great. Fits perfect.”

  “Good.” Dmitri began to reach into his pocket. “I have something for you.” He pulled out a picture.

  Peter opened his gloved hand to receive it. Dmitri placed a picture of Anya in the center.

  “She asked me to give this to you. She doesn’t want you to forget her.”

  No way was Peter going to forget the love of his life. He gazed at the picture. Anya’s beautiful face was outlined by her gorgeous jet-black hair, which flowed over a formal purple dress.

  “It was taken at my wedding. I had it on my desk.” Dmitri motioned to the picture. “I had Velcro put on the back.”

  Peter was happy to have her along for the ride.

  7

  “SAVE US!”

  Sitting in the commander’s center seat of the tight Soyuz, Alex was meticulously going through the many system checks required to prepare their ship for launch. Peter had finished his system checks in the left co-pilot seat and was now reviewing the binder that explained the re-entry procedures needed to bring Galileo home. He was far from being an expert on the operation since the moon mission did not require returning the craft. Only if they had an emergency during launch would he have had to immediately turn back and return to Earth. As a result, he had limited training at SpaceQuest on the process. He needed to take advantage of every spare moment. Peter felt a nudge on his leg. Lying on his back with his legs strapped in so his feet were up to his butt, he tried to lift his head to see his partner. Regrettably the Skylab helmet did not rotate, and even with his visor up he could not see Alex over the parachutes stuffed around them.

  “Mission control now do their checks. We have moment of peace. You should take advantage. Not much time to rest later.”

  Peter set the Galileo manual on his stomach. The countdown clock on his computer screen showed they had a little over an hour before launch. It was tough to relax knowing every passing minute was inching the stranded cosmonauts closer to death. Nevertheless, orbital mechanics could not be manipulated. They had no choice but to wait until they were in the International Space Station’s exact orbit before launching, which happened only twice a day, allowing for a mere five-minute window each time. Though waiting was making him anxious, Alex was probably right. It might be his only time to rest, and a mental break would probably do him good. They had been working nonstop since boarding. Peter saw Alex’s arm extend upward as he hung a small colorful stuffed bear off a knob on the control panel above them. Peter smiled as Alex lightly spun the suspended toy.

  “My son give me. It tell when we in space.”

  “How old is your son?”

  “Mikhail seventeen. On my first mission he five. He pick out toy for me. He do for all my missions. Be our tradition and bring me luck.”

  “Do you have any other kids?”

  “I have four. Mikhail is youngest, then son 19, daughter 22 and son 24.”

  “Wow, big family.”

  “Yes. Keep wife busy. You have kids?”

  A sinking sensation stung at Peter as he thought of Anya and the baby. “No, but maybe someday.” Peter reached down to a Velcro closed pocket on his spacesuit leg and ripped it open. With his gloved hand, he fiddled around until he found what he was looking for, Anya’s picture. He pulled it out and looked at it for a while. He thought back to the last time he was in a Soyuz with her picture. Then he had been certain he would die. He thanked God for saving him. He spotted some Velcro on the spacecraft wall to his left, but instead elected to attach the picture to a clip on the control panel in front of him.

  “She pretty. Is that not Viktor’s daughter?”

  Peter proudly smiled as he stared at the picture. “It is.”

  “Dmitri tell me of you two. She good kid. You lucky. Viktor work with your dad on US/USSR mission of ’70s, yes?”

  Peter relaxed his neck muscles allowing his head to fall back against the back of his helmet. “They did. Dad was backup. That is how I got to know Dmitri. He and I became childhood friends while playing at Star City over a summer when our dads trained together.”

  “I sorry your dad pass away. He was great astronaut, and thanks to you, the world knows he walk on moon.”

  Peter smiled as the image of his initials carved in the lunar dust flashed through his mind. “Thanks. He was also a great father.”

  “I saw your suit say Robinson. Is that same astronaut who walk on moon with your dad?”

  “It is.”

  “I shut my eyes now.”

  Peter smiled. With the muffled noise of the rocket breathing outside, he calmly closed his eyes and drifted off.

  Peter was a small boy as he tried to hold on as his body slid side to side across the black leather passenger seat of the 1972 silver convertible Corvette. This was Peter’s first time riding in the new car as his dad raced Dusty Robinson in his matching Vette down NASA 1. All three members of his dad’s crew received identical cars from the local dealer, the only differences being the color of the stripe on each hood and their official abbreviation of their crew position painted just under the doorknob. His dad’s had CDR for commander and a blue stripe.

  With the top and all the windows down, Peter was getting the full experience of raw speed as the erratic wind blew wildly inside the car, and he loved it. The seven-year-old curled both hands on the top of the door and lifted up as far as the lap belt would allow so he could see over at his dad’s partner speeding next to them. The late afternoon sun shone off the shiny car with its red stripe. Dusty was laughing as he did a cocky wave before making a daring move, cutting off Peter’s father. “Dad, catch him!”

  With one hand on the wheel and the other expertly working the stick, his dad calmly said, “Son, we want to be safe about this.” He then swiftly downshifted and the engine roared as he yelled out, “But don’t worry, I’ll catch him.” The tires screeched as he swerved over into the oth
er lane before gunning the car and passing up his friend. He lifted his hand high in the air and waved back to his lunar module pilot as he shouted out, “That’s how the commander drives, son.”

  Peter was excited to be tagging along with his dad and Dusty on a public relations visit on behalf of NASA to the Astrodome. Peter’s hero, Evel Knievel, was in town to jump thirteen cars with his powerful motorcycle. As much as he admired Evel, seeing his dad in his NASA issued gold sunglasses looking cool convinced him he wanted to be an astronaut just like his father.

  Once in the Astrodome, Peter couldn’t believe how much great food was all around in the nicely decorated hall. Evel wasn’t scheduled to jump for awhile, and before taking their seats his dad said he needed to shake some hands. Peter was being introduced to a lot of people, but all he wanted to do was have a Coke and try some of the great looking desserts. “Daddy, can I have something to eat?”

  His dad was busy talking to a gentleman dressed in a coat and tie and he didn’t answer. Peter tried pulling on his father’s pants to get his attention, but no luck. Dusty finally bent down and whispered. “Your dad is talking to a very important man. How about I take you to get something?”

  Peter perked up. “Okay.”

  Dusty grabbed his small hand and escorted him toward the table with soups and salads, passing by many folks who said hello. Once at the table Peter shook his head and pointed toward the desserts. “Can we start over there?”

  Dusty looked in the direction of the dessert table before looking back down with one eyebrow raised. “Peter, you need to eat something healthy before having some dessert.”

  His mom made him eat a peanut butter sandwich before leaving. However, he knew his dad wouldn’t allow him to go straight to the desserts, but maybe he could convince Dusty he already had a full meal. “Mr. Robinson, I already ate dinner. Mom fed me.”

  Dusty looked toward his dad, as if trying to get his attention. Peter didn’t wait and pulled Dusty toward the dessert table. The astronaut reluctantly followed. As Peter approached the massive display of desserts, he was completely in awe. He simply didn’t know where to start. There were all kinds of cakes, pies, and even a container sitting in ice filled with vanilla ice cream.