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LAST DAYS ON THE MOON
THE MASADA THREAT
By Jerry Woodfill
Copyright © 2015 by JRWIV INTERESTS
Houston, Texas
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form
without written permission of the publishers, with the exception of brief
excerpts quoted in magazines, reviews, etc. Resemblance between persons
living or deceased is coincidental.
All Bible quotations and adaptations are from the King James Version.
JRWIV INTERESTS
Houston, Texas
P.O. Box 58081-2528
77258-8081
e-mail: [email protected]
website: www.spaceacts.com
Published in the United States of America
Want an exciting 21st Century read based on a biblical background?
LAST DAYS ON THE MOON – THE MASADA THREAT won’t disappoint.
Written in the style of a Tom Clancy novel, characters, technology, and nearfuture world events are fashioned to not only increase one’s faith but wholly
captivate fiction lovers. This is a 300 page “story -tell” promised to be an
unforgettable altogether provocative plot. Though copyrighted, the online e book is offered to be freely read and enjoyed by all. * (Online access reading
only, i.e., not to be downloaded and installed on other media storage, or to be
sold nor otherwise offered by public domain registration Internet websites.)
Click here to begin. Read the back-cover narrative for a preview of the
exciting tale of space exploration, international intrigue, and prophetic endtime events.
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
Foreword
Prologue
Last Days on the Moon
M.E.T. 120 Hours
The Masada Response
A Possible But Improbable Means of Escape
Rescue I’s Journey
Spacecraft Forensics
2030 – The State of the World
Divine Revelation
The Rovernauts Journey Southwestward
The Voice From Above
The Message From the Moon
The Earthly Response
Uncle Ivan Ivanovich’s Friend
The Russian Steppes
The Return to Tranquility Base
The Beneficiaries
NASA Mission Control
The Gospel According to Justin Lewis
Four Replacement Flight Controllers
Moon Base Autopsy
The Dream
Survival of the Fittest
The Earth Return Rescue Vehicle
Fort Orion
Live Justin!
A Kindred Spirit from the Past
Spacecraft Forensics
Another Witty invention
The Post Mortem
Another Star in Heaven’s Crown
Rescue Plans
Apollo 13 and Eagle II
Arch Conspirators
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7
8
50
53
60
75
79
84
87
92
100
108
123
125
128
131
135
142
143
150
156
160
164
168
171
174
177
183
189
195
199
202
208
212
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The Tunnel Maze
The Rescue MOCR Simulation
Moon Base Forensics
Substitute Saboteurs
The World View
Autopsy Confirmation?
Launch
Martyr or Mediator
216
228
232
242
246
249
254
260
BOOK II – THE RETURN
The Return
Rendezvous, Docking, and Departure
Shrouded Thoughts
Amazonia
Failure Is Not an Option
The Crew Check List
The Akema Response
Eagle II’s Reentry Flight Plan
Reentry
The Last Rites
The Masada Response
Author’s Epilogue
Postword
The MER Was Not the MOCR
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275
283
288
299
307
317
321
327
334
338
344
372
373
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Foreword
I’d like the name changed for this portion of LAST DAYS ON
THE MOON from “foreword” to “forth-word”. Actually, this is
the first page of the story which follows. It’s meant as a behind
the scenes explanation of the novel’s hidden agenda. In future
centuries, no book reviewer need interpret the author’s intent. In
those years, such works by virtue of age become public domain.
Jules Verne’s FROM THE EARTH TO THE MOON is an
example. No one could have guessed his intent was pedagogical,
i.e., he wanted to excite young readers about the wonders of
geography.
This text has similar under currents cryptically sewn into its
fiction. Obviously, after reading a score of pages and knowing
the author’s background, readers will understand. They will
recognize the characters are adapted from the author’s non-fiction
experiences space-wise and faith-wise.
Indeed, often character Justin Lewis’ recollections are true
experiences cited from a career as Apollo’s Caution and Warning
Project Engineer. Likewise, the evangelistic content is the sum
of the author’s Christian faith.
Much deals with what some called testimonies. Often, these
actual incidents are as fascinating and compelling as the fiction
written into LAST DAYS ON THE MOON. Likewise, their
genesis is historic space program happenings.
Additionally,
this is true for scenes dealing with spacecraft, rocketry and the
laws of science. Most are clones of real events in the lives of the
author, flight controllers, NASA engineers, and astronauts during
the Apollo days of the 1960s and early 1970s.
Being in NASA’s employ for more than four decades provides an
abundance of anecdotes giving spice and entertainment to a
science fiction novel. In fact, the content is a wealth of material
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for secondary school history fairs, oral history accounts, and
Hollywood movies. The author has contributed often to these
three topics.
Perhaps, the content will enhance science fiction in sort of a
docu-space-sci-fi sense. Michener’s book SPACE was a type of
that kind of docu-space fiction. To a lesser extent was Tom
Wolfe’s non-fictional THE RIGHT STUFF. Wolfe used actual
people and experiences in his narrative.
The old author’s adage of “write what you know” seeps like a
leaky garden hose into LAST DAYS ON THE MOON. Often
the leaks are more compelling than the spray from the hose
nozzle.
Perhaps, actual tales of space yore should be footnoted as such.
This would distinguish fiction from those which are fashioned on
fact. But let the reader judge what category each person, event,
and situation falls into as the trials and traumas of Eagle II’s crew
unfold.
AND, always, remember…Justin Lewis has an alter ego. If not
the author’s, then Christians; past, present and future. This is in
the sense that Jesus Christ is the same, yesterday, today, and
forever. When Justin Lewis speaks, acts, prays, and feels, a
“great cloud of witnesses” is tele-operating him.
Oh, as stated in the beginning of this treatise, that’s the reason for
the suggestion of naming it the FORTH-WORD. Each person
who reads Last Days on the Moon, The Masada Threat is urged
to go forth with the Word Justin speaks throughout the 300 pages
of the story.
The Author
*For a wholly non-fiction account of many of the incidents which
appear in LAST DAYS ON THE MOON, see the author’s
companion non-fiction novel, GOD IN MANNED SPACE
EXPLORATION.
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Prologue
July 19th, 2030 A.D.
The Earth Book Encyclopedia
A World Potentially Aflame
The editors of Publication Enterprises, Inc. wish to preface
today’s release of the 60 DVD volume set of comprehensive fact
books with a brief summary of contemporary history. Due to the
unprecedented potential of international conflict, the political
state of planet Earth must be set forth and summarized.
Not since the Cold War (mid 1940s to the early 1990s) between
the Allied nations championed by the United States of America
and the Communist Alliance of the Soviet Union, China, and
their respective adherents, has greater peril for the survival of
mankind existed. It is the rise of the powerful international
entities of the Consortium of Five, (The C-5) led by the United
States and the Non-Aligned-Nations-Alliance (NANA) controlled
by the ruler Salik Akema which threatens all mankind.
The confederations are an outgrowth of turbulent religious,
political, economic, and military alliances dating back to the year
2018. At that time, the fabric of civilization began to tatter under
the stress of global famine with oil endowed nations asserting
international power using a technique now known as “oil-mail”, a
withholding or “blackmailing” of nations with an oil-dearth by
the oil-enriched.
Yet, in recent months, an attempt to reconcile NANA and C-5
differences has focused on an international space mission to
return to the Moon. The Eagle II mission has been launched and
should do much to patch the torn fabric of NANA – Consortium
relations. Citizens of Earth pray that no saboteurs interfere with
the success of the return voyage to Tranquility Base. Perhaps, it
is civilization’s only hope for a better tomorrow…
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Last Days on the Moon
The Masada Threat
John Glenn made it back to space at age 77. Roger Clements
pitched in the
World Series as an
ageless 40 year
plus major leaguer.
Now,
it’s my
turn; not to pitch or
fly in low Earth
orbit,
but
higher…to
the
Moon. Admittedly,
medical
science
has
made
my
journey possible.
Youthful elixirs not
known at the time
of Glenn’s 1998
shuttle
mission
have
been
responsible.
It’s
been a decade since
the last of those
Original
Seven
Mercury orbiters and Apollo Moonwalkers passed into eternity.
Those space jockeys were middle aged when I reported for
NASA employment, June of 1965. Had they been my age at the
time, they, too, might have benefited from space age longevity
research. Actually, it was zero-g pharmaceutical studies aboard
the International Space Station which led to the aging
breakthrough.
Over the past decade, the average age of
Americans at death has ascended a score of years to a century.
We octogenarians are commonplace, active in all walks of
society, even space exploration as astronauts.
It’s the
septuagenarians who are in the homes for the aged.
But as for my inclusion on the mission, at once says the accuser,
“Who pulled strings?” My retort is, “No one…I paid my way.”
Round trip fare came to a billion American dollars, tax, title and
license. Before you judge me an opportunist, consider the
circumstance. Without my fare included in the voyage, no
journey would have launched.
We’re living in the two thousand thirties, an era not unlike a
century earlier when the world economy was on its back. Then,
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as now, some entrepreneurs saw the 1929 crash coming. They
took refuge buying gold bullion after shedding holdings in stocks,
bonds, and real estate. Remember Joseph, the Hebrew in
Pharaoh’s court? He saw it coming as well, that old Testament
famine. Some kind of heavenly premonition warned him. That
kind of thing didn’t pass away with those ancient patriarch’s.
I’m evidence.
It wasn’t a dream this time, but an antiquarian volume found in
the bowels of Houston’s historic district. The ragged copy of
Jesse Livermore, the Great Bear of Wall Street led to the same
kind of revelation Jacob’s son Joseph got – things are going to
get desperately worse not only for America but for all nations
under the Sun.
I could detail the process, i.e., how I leveraged my two million
dollars of assets on margin buying, extended loans, and short
sale stock contracts as well as puts and calls, but that’s another
tale to be told. It’s conclusion amounted to a fortune of ten
billion dollars of gold bullion held in a secure vault.
A billion was my bid…double the closest offer by any nation
wanting its astronaut on board. These days, there’s not much
heart for trips into the cosmos. Millions are starving not
knowing how long the recovery will take; the last one didn’t fully
mature until the onset of World War II, more than a decade after
the crash. In fact the day I tendered my billion dollar offer the
morning NEW YORK TIMES headline published that sentiment,
“Moon Return Off, No Bidders Found”
Nevertheless, before the last Broadway news vendor sold his last
morning paper, The Los Angeles Chronicle had the follow-up in
100 point font,
”Entrepreneur Comes Through…We’re Returning to the Moon.”
And the sub-line:
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“Eighty-Eight Year Old Ex-NASA Bullion Barron on Board.”
The story followed:
Dateline, January 1, 2030, Los Angeles (UPI): Initial planning
for the 60 th Anniversary, July 20, 1969, return to Tranquility
Base ended with the collapse of financial markets this past year.
Final funding sought from the world’s nations had not been
forthcoming. Opening the bidding to the private sector has
proven fruitful. Though a year late, today, a taker has come
forward. Entrepreneur Justin Lewis, former NASA engineer,
turned billionaire has tendered a billion dollar bid. This has him
joining crew men and women from the United Kingdom, Saudi
Arabia, Russia, and the United States on a mission to resurrect
human exploration of the solar system. The return to the Moon is
the beginning voyage.
While some see the elderly Lewis’ inclusion as flamboyant,
pretentious, and opportunistic, others express gratitude that a
man of such advanced years and wealth would venture forth
enabling the mission to proceed. The following crewmembers
will accompany him:
I had studied the bios of my fellow celestial companions,
however, not from the perspective of their considerable honors,
degrees, and scientific achievements but from another view
point.
You see, like Joseph mentioned previously, I was very
much aware that a thread of divine providence had me among
them.
No, I was not so presumptuous as to believe my astute financial
acumen was responsible for this opportunity. Like Joseph, I had
been selected for such a time as this for God’s eternal plans and
purposes, not my own.
In this sense, I was anything but an
opportunist. Rather, I was a workman as Scripture deems those
called according to His purposes, rightly dividing the word of
truth.
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And what was that truth? It was the “sign of the times.” I’d
often heard the pastor cite the Bible passage that “the word is of
no private interpretation” meaning that what I was coming to
realize was being understood by millions of believers on the
Planet, “The Return of Christ Was Imminent.”
I’d long mused
and been confused by interpretations of
prophesy. Bible teachers spoke of a sign of the beast as a
computer, a credit card, an electronic chip, or other entity
identified with the number 666. That number always was cited
in end-time predictions. Likewise, cited was the forecast of
“wars and rumors of wars.” While there had always been
nations, small and great, at war, the rise of international militant
Islam stood above and beyond any threat of the past.
Advancement of technology for good and evil was to blame.
Isabella and Ferdinand won a conquest over the Moslems of
North Africa with spears, swords, and shields. The victory led to
funding Columbus’s discovery of the New World. Its jewel
ultimately became America, a nation founded on Judeo-Christian
tenets of ethics, worship, law, and government.
Nearly five and one half centuries had passed. Those medieval
tools of carnage had become the suitcase A-bombs of the present.
Only the Brave New World surveillance predicted by Aldous
Huxley kept them at bay. No man, woman, boy, or girl on the
planet was without a dossier whose minute details could thwart
random acts of terrorism. Such hedonist deeds might raze a city
of a million souls from Earth as surely as a swashbuckling
pirate‘s saber dispatched a privateer’s crew to the grave.
As a result, Christian mottos like “turn the other cheek” entered
the abyss of hopeless international diplomacy.
No patience
existed for a rogue nation’s saber-rattling of A-bomb swords.
For this reason, a Moslem astronaut among the crew of this
lunar expedition was troublesome.
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And so it was, our Ishmael had the name Mohammed Hussein.
His inclusion was proclaimed as “religious correctness” that all
the World’s Great Religions are one under God’s benevolent
keeping and care. For if five lunar sojourners, three men and
two women, achieved the commemorative goal of landing at the
site of Tranquility Base, retrieving artifacts from Armstrong’s
Eagle, an example of religious tolerance would go forth among
the World’s populace.
Evangelical Christianity had long since
lost its voice in the New Age of religious equality ushered in after
the tragic 911 episode.
Days after that radical Moslem atrocity, the Evangelist Franklin
Graham, Billy Graham’s son no less, had been castigated for
holding that the God of the Bible and the god of Islam were not
the same. The passage of three decades had so steeled the idea
that speaking such was considered sedition, an unspeakable act of
intolerance punishable as a misdemeanor. Based on Congress’s
Religious Liberty Act awaiting the President’s signature, it would
soon become a felony worthy of imprisonment.
Having survived four score and eight years on this side of
Heaven, my zeal for a born again Jesus saving faith was yet in
place. It had launched on my seventh year at NASA. Largely as
a result of the miraculous rescue of Apollo 13, I’d embraced
Christ as my Savior. Correlating prayers by Christians for the
exploded Apollo 13 with specific answers led to my decision.
Months later, convinced that prayer in Jesus’ name had made the
difference, I’d wholly committed my life to Christ. And it was
not a simple mental acknowledgement.
Rather, it so disturbed my character that a unique manifestation
akin to the Apostle Paul’s experience came forth. I collapsed
bodily on the carpet of a Houston ballroom overcome by the
invading presence of Christ’s Holy Spirit. Such
led
to
examination of the popular pulp texts of the era dealing with the
return of Christ. Hal Lindsey’s (1970) Late Great Planet Earth
was among them, authored providentially the same year as the
rescue of Apollo 13. However, even the annotations of Scofield’s
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Bible spoke of what was to come, speaking of “end-times” as
though imminent.
Since the copyright was 1901, the concept
had passed into the “Boy Crying Wolf” category long ago.
I vaguely remembered another “false alarm” decades later, a
book entitled Eighty-eight reasons Christ Is Coming Back in
1988. The advertised day came in September of that year when I
got a breathless call from a NASA colleague and member of my
Methodist Church Men’s Fellowship.
When I picked up the phone and spoke, I heard a relieved sigh
from the ear piece. “Justin , it’s Norm. You’re still there. Aren’t
you?”
“Yes, of course.” I assured him.
“Why, do you ask?”
“There’s a fellow in Building 16 like you, reads the Bible at
lunch, always praying over meals in the NASA cafeteria. He sits
in the lab I often visit.”
“So what?” I wondered.
Norm continued, “I’d read that book about the eighty-eight
reasons Christians would be snatched away…and today’s the
day.”
“When I entered the lab before work, I couldn’t find the guy, the
tech with the Bible. His Bible was open on his desk. His seat
was there, too, but he wasn’t in it.”
“Hold steady, Norm.
meeting.”
He’s probably in the bathroom or at a
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“Justin, his shoes are there, empty, on the floor beneath the chair.
He’s gone! I thought if you’re still here then I’m safe, too.”
Indeed, as I thought, Norm’s colleague had hurting feet. He’d
left his shoes off to relive himself in the restroom across the hall
from the lab.
But, that was long ago. Few in the past several decades
mentioned the topic either in or out of church. In fact, those
LEFT BEHIND books, the millions sold in hard and paper back
had long since become recycled refuse, hard to find even on
antiquarian book shelves. Perhaps, it was because the topic had
become too popular for a period of time so that a kind of “end
times fatigue” had obliterated the idea.
The rapture had not come as predicted.
it?
Why persist in expecting
Ironically, this is exactly what Scripture predicts; the event
coming as “a thief in the night.” The rapture had long since
become as likely as a thief for most. The night time of unbelief
had befallen the evangelical church. Most ignored Jesus’ words
in Matthew 24:42 about watching for the Lord’s coming and
Paul’s I Thessalonians 4:17 admonition about the Lord’s descent
from heaven with a shout to meet us in the clouds. “But
what
about this mission to the Moon?” I wondered. The Moon’s
above the clouds. At once came the still small voice, “Do you
not think that God’s heaven has clouds as well, a place far above
the Earth and the Moon?”
I recalled a 1970s Christian comic whose artwork suggested an
interpretation of John’s vision of the Lord’s return for his saints.
The graphic depicted the Revelation account of Christ coming in
the clouds. Careful study of Revelation Chapter Fourteen, verse
14 addressed the idea of heaven, clouds, a temple, Jesus and the
angels in the same setting. Nowhere was the Moon mentioned.
Should Christ come during my journey, how would I meet Him
in the air? Space is a vacuum. There is no air. Without the
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distractions of daily living on Earth, I wrestled with such
thoughts. Indeed, the three and one half day journey left one
much time for such thoughts.
Because this was touted as a mission of reconciliation, each crew
member had a copy of their sacred religious writings.
Mohammed, his Koran. I, my Bible. No, neither was a bound
volume, rather they were digitally stored in the latest version of a
“thumb drive.” Perhaps, I was the first to have developed such
for astronauts, in the year 1989. At that time, the primitive
Macintosh computer was in vogue.
Each included a free
program called HyperCard. I’d adapted the Old and New
Testament texts into HyperCard files, naming the program –
HyperWord. Nothing came of it when NASA tired of rebuffs
from Congress over a return to the Moon and mission to Mars.
The idea lay dormant until ecumenical planners for the Return to
Tranquility Moon Mission discovered it among NASA’s
archives. When I was asked to address the issue, the Scripture
about “casting bread upon the waters” came to mind. It had
taken four decades for that loaf to return.
Providentially, its
author would be its beneficiary. That text deposited on four three
and one half inch diameter floppy disks took, in comparison, one
thousand-trillionth of the real estate of my 2030 thumb drive.
I did a mental arithmetic calculation based on Moore’s Law, a
rule of thumb important to electrical engineers.
Though
empirical, Moore found that every eighteen months, electronic
memory capacity increased two-fold.
By my internal
proportioning, he was right, at least up until this 2030 Moon
mission. If only rocketry had followed suit, doubling in ability to
loft payload mass into the cosmos every year and a half. In that
case, I’d be on my way to the stars not a paltry commemorative
mission to the Moon.
Perhaps, it was by God’s design, His plans and purposes for His
creation, Earth. Decades ago a few theologians wrestled with
finding Scriptural support for space exploration. As a NASA
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careerist, I’d done likewise. My assessment? Yes, He cared
about man’s journey into space. Hadn’t He created the heavens
(space) and the Earth for mankind’s benefit. But there were
apparently three heavens: the sky, space, and the Spiritual realm
where Christ dwelt with the Father and the Holy Spirit. Which
brought my thinking back to Revelations 14:14.
Actually, I’d only heard a single sermon about God’s view on
space exploration. And…I was aware of no Bible commentator
analyzing the rapture’s impact on a Moon based astronaut.
Granted the topic would have affected no one since Gene Cernan,
the last man on the Moon, mounted the lander’s ladder for the
return of Apollo 17 six decades ago.
Obviously, I was now in a different category. There was
Scripture detailing the resurrection of the dead, i.e., those grave
bound saints, whose bodies awaited the call from Christ on high.
Likewise, all on the planet, in its atmosphere, even those orbiting
in space stations might be treated as meeting Christ in the clouds.
(Even the space station passes through rarefied atmosphere,
requiring thrust to keep it orbiting several hundred miles above
Earth.) Would I be left behind simply because my temporal
location was beyond Earth?
The thought simply would not leave. I’d never been an adherent
of
believers having to endure the tribulation, based on
examination of Scripture. But what of those believers, not on
Earth?
Would I return from Tranquility Base to a world of
unredeemed folk destined for seven years of hell on Earth?
I thought about Enoch and Elisha, those Old Testament saints.
God had performed an exceptional departure for each. Elisha’s
was explained as a carrying up in “a whirlwind.” In fact, he was
operating a chariot, a spaceship of sorts.
Perhaps, I could count on a similar departure, an exception to the
rule of “rapturing”. Elijah’s escape was from the physical death
every human has dealt with, except for Enoch. But that wasn’t
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likely. It was Elijah and Enoch’s exceptional walk with God that
qualified them for their missions. Though I am a Christian, a
devoted student of the Word, a witness for my Lord, I am not
exceptional in the faith as were they.
And, if I were raptured? What then? At present, our crew of
five had specific assignments required to maintain the base.
Additionally, the Earth Return Vehicle’s operation was assigned
to my Moslem colleague. Should I convince him of the truth of
the Gospel and win him to Christ, the unbelievers among us
would be sentenced to a lunar death. What a paradox? I must
make sure the others believed before reaching Astronaut
Mohammed.
That would be unlike the final moments of the Challenger and
Columbia’s demise. Those crews were a similar mix of cultures,
religions, and sexes. However, they met eternity simultaneously.
Likely, there was a spiritual separation as their spirits journeyed
forth, but everybody died. Though there were mostly Christian
believers in both crews, some members did not embrace a saving
knowledge of Jesus Christ.
I’d comforted myself with the thought that the astronaut believers
on board had made a final call for salvation to their lost
comrades - to make Jesus Lord of their lives. Mercifully, the
Lord had supernaturally made time for that opportunity, a final
decision to accept Christ.
Yes, He had delayed the destruction of Challenger and Columbia
though all on board knew death certain. But that would not be
our case should Christ return. “One would be taken up and one
would be left behind.”
For those Shuttle astronauts all
encountered death, but only those who believed experienced life
everlasting.
Nothing angered ecumenical mission planners more than the
assertion that the only way of salvation was faith in Christ Jesus.
So what if Christ had said as much with the statement, “I am the
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way, the truth, and the life. No man comes to the Father but by
me.” [John 14:6] Most modern copies of the New Testament
had chosen to translate the word “the” as the word “a” so that
Islam was yet another means of salvation. A suspect manuscript
dating to the time of Christ had the Greek “a” in John 14:6.
Though the second part of John 14:6 was inconsistent with the
use of the word “a”, the modernists among scripture scholars
attributed the paradox to a second missed translation: an incorrect
tense attributed to the word “come”. An earlier manuscript
dating prior to the advent of Christ, suggested a better translation
was the past tense, i.e., “No man CAME to the Father…”
Extrapolating the conflict in tense, these same scholars asserted
that Christ was speaking of His previous existence with His
Heavenly Father. At the throne of God, all spirits came in the
presence of the Father God, whether Islamic, Hindu, or New Age
disciples. Because Christ simply sat beside the throne of God, it
was no more a tenet of faith than walking past the President’s
wife to greet the Chief of State in a reception line.
Nevertheless, each crew member had been required to sign an
affidavit forbidding discussion of his or her respective faith with
the intent of proselytizing another. However, when I refused, I
was not removed as a candidate.
Perhaps, my billion dollar
contribution played a roll in not pressing the issue? Didn’t the
church scoffers always claim ministerial hypocrisy, “Pastors
make allowances for big givers?” In this case, the ecumenical
planners were the hypocrites.
But not content with their decision, I threatened to pull out if they
handicapped my crewmates’ religious liberty. Again, shekels
won over ecumenical correctness. There would be no muzzle
over any of our mouths.
Preparation on my part began months before I reported to the
Houston astronaut training facility.
My training was not only
physical but spiritual. It was the kind of preparation undertaken
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by Christ in the garden, praying for what tomorrow held.
His tomorrow included the cross. My goal for tomorrow was to
be an agent of the Holy Spirit. I wanted to be heaven-bent on
sharing the Bible, Christ, and my life. In this way, I hope to be a
catalyst for my crewmates’ salvation during the mission.
Actually, sixty years before, I’d participated on similar missions,
not in space, but on airplane trips to Central and South America,
employing my NASA experience as a vehicle to convince
unbelievers of Jesus Christ as the way, the truth, and the life.
On one occasion, I’d even visited the pilots of a commercial
flight to Central America. Showing the stewardess my NASA
business card gained me entrance to the cockpit. These were the
pre-911 days when such was not suspect.
The jet was at cruising altitude on auto-pilot so that the relaxed
aviators gladly listened as I shared my life as a NASA engineer
and believer in Christ. They were grateful for the prayer I’d
prayed with them for their safety as pilots in a perilous
profession. Why should my crewmates be any less receptive on
this mission to the Moon? If there was one gift I had, it was not
being intimidating sharing my faith. That scripture about “being
ready to share with every man the hope that is within you with
meekness fear” and “being ready to answer everyman as you
ought” truly was a gift from above. The most adamant atheist
would hear me out, eventually realizing the truth of my
expression of faith in Christ.
Mine was a discussion of Godly things, a reasoning, not a debate
or argument. In fact, often, I’d simply suggest a prayer with a
candidate about an issue of life troubling him or her. Leaving it
at that, it wouldn’t be long before God had answered in a specific
way. Of course, this opened other opportunities for additional
discussion of the truth of the Gospel.
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I’d never been comfortable with the formula approaches to what
was called “winning a person to Christ.” Though it had merit,
this was not my way. More often, I’d simply explain how Christ
came into my life and changed me. I’d do the same on this
Moon mission. Besides, it wasn’t about me but about Jesus’ care
and concern for these four. He loved them just as much as He
loved me.
A component of salvation dealt with overcoming the fear of
death. Certainly, a trip to the Moon possessed the threat of
failure leading to that outcome. Death in a spaceship held a
special horror ever since the tragic Apollo One fire, that Friday,
the 27th of January, 1967. I’d never forgotten, Gus, Ed and
Roger’s dying that day.
Only months before, Roger and I had conferred on my project,
the Apollo warning system. Though he’d made a suggestion I’d
employed, it wasn’t good enough. My system hadn’t warned the
crew in time. They perished, dying a painful fiery death, even
though the alarm light and tone sounded. It took five minutes to
open the hatch. Death came from the suffocating fumes of the
flammable interior in less than a minute.
Death by fire was always a consideration.
Like those ancient
Apollo missions, our fire extinguisher was the void of space, the
extinguishing vacuum sucking and smothering any flames amidst
our living quarters. The fire-fighting approach worked in route,
on the Moon, or on the Earth return. But if we were unsuited,
our end would be more terrible than Grissom and crew. It would
be a race to suit-up before we opened the hatch to snuff out the
flames.
If we
chose to fight the flames rather than the vacuum and lost, burns
would consume us. Alternatively, if we evacuated our quarters
prematurely, the loss of internal lung pressure would burst the
tender flesh responsible for the oxygen/blood exchange
supporting our lives. Each miniature sack of the oxygen/blood
mix would immediately burst like a balloon suddenly overblown
and popped by a circus clown. Indeed, sci-fi movies had long
21
depicted the horror of deaths of space-suit-less cosmonauts and
astronauts - gushing lung blood, tissue, mucous, and other bodily
fluids spurting from mouth, ears, and nostrils in syncopation to
the final beats of the hapless spaceman’s expiring heart.
For such as we, fear was not a factor. Few extra-terrestrial
explorers entertained these thoughts. We were of the same
meddle as a Columbus, Captain Cook, or Marco Polo. Some
kind of divine providence guided our endeavors.
Even the
unbelievers had a sense of fated-well being.
At once, all that changed. It was 78 hours mission elapsed time.
The last of our crew was safe in the descent lander module. Only
its hatch needed closing and latching.
From the interior of the mother ship, the Earth Return Vehicle, a
loud blast shook the entire assemblage such that the lander’s
guidance system called on multiple thrusters to compensate. The
mini-rockets fired continuously, at first losing the battle to correct
the spin-like motion from the force striking the ERV’s hull.
A whooshing noise came from the innards of the return vehicle.
Thinking it must be escaping atmosphere, Astronaut Sid Larue
slammed the lander’s entry hatch shut.
Not knowing the source of the explosion, our pilot Mohammed,
initiated the separation maneuver, leaving the damaged mother
ship in an ambling drift, its guidance system obviously
compromised.
Calling flight control for a recommendation got the response,
“Proceed with the landing, Eagle II.”
“Surely, that can’t be the consensus at mission control?”
I
fretted. “Did no one remember Apollo 13’s explosion? The
lander was the only means of rescue. “
I yelled at Mohammed,
CONFIRMATION, FIRST!”
“DON’T
DO
IT…GET
A
22
“Too late,” he answered, “the descent guidance program on the
primary system is locked in place. We’d have to use the AGS,
the Abort Guidance System, to override the landing program.
Our ascent stage would separate us from the descent stage with
its Moon base module. The base would then crash onto the
Moon’s surface.
We’d be left with only a few hours consumables and no way
back to Earth. At least with the planned landing we can perform
the mission until a rescue ERV replaces that pile of orbiting junk
overhead.”
The words of Apollo 13’s commander Jim Lovell echoed in my
mind, “The reason we survived was that we still had the lander
in tact to get us home.”
Unfortunately, we no longer had that lifeboat. It would soon
become our oasis in space, a desert outpost on the Moon. Our
previous quarters, the lunar transfer vehicle, had been targeted,
perhaps, by a bullet from space, a golf ball sized meteor. Had
we not been suited for the descent, likely, the decompression
would have been fatal. Even the few seconds long closing and
latching of the hatch could not have helped.
Our descent
vehicle’s atmosphere rushed through the tunnel into the vacuum
of space.
Apparently, the meteor had behaved like a hollow-tipped 45
caliper bullet ripping through the transport ship’s quarters into
the cryogenic tanks in Apollo 13-like fashion. A rudimentary
assessment was ominous. Our former space-liner would no
longer serve as an Earth Return Vehicle. Once, on the Moon, we
would be stranded, until a return vehicle could be dispatched.
Once more, I thought of that April 13th evening in 1970. Much
like this incident, all was going extremely well when the call
came, “Houston, We’ve Had a Problem.” But on that occasion, a
rescue ship remained in tact for the safe return. Not so, in this
23
case. Nevertheless, to our benefit, consumables stowed on board
this mission’s lander dwarfed those stored in that Apollo Moon
lander.
Our vehicle not only included a descent and ascent
capability, we were a rudimentary lunar base. Though our stay
was scheduled for two weeks, several months of oxygen, water,
electrical power, and food stuffs would sustain us until a
replacement ship was forthcoming.
I’d long been a student of the voyages of Christopher Columbus.
“We shouldn’t be too alarmed,” I assured my crewmates.
“Our plight is almost identical to that Columbus encountered on
his voyage of discovery.”
Mohammed scoffed, “And how can that be? Columbus explored
in ships of wood
and sails of fabric. We use rocket power,
electronics, and deal with much harsher surroundings.”
“Mohammed,” I responded.
“He lost his main ship, the Santa Maria, after reaching the new
world prior to his return to Europe. He had to leave that crew
behind until a second voyage could return for them.”
I failed to add that when he returned, he found every man dead,
killed by the native Indians. It seemed that the lusts of the flesh
had overcome their knowledge of God such that the native
peoples had no choice but to destroy their base and lives. Indeed,
this had become an episode of that popular television series of the
early 2000s, SURVIVOR.
“Only God can spare us. I must serve as a missionary, a voice
of Scripture, an ambassador for Christ, for, perhaps, months of
interment on the Earth’s Moon, lest our band of five, three men
and two women, meet the fate of Columbus’s stranded crew.”
24
The irony of Columbus’s loss was an oversight of faith. Despite
having set forth in God’s Spirit, the Admiral of the Ocean Sea
had not brought along one of those Franciscan monks whose
prayers in Columbus’s behalf had enabled the trip to proceed.
Instead, Columbus left the ship’s carpenter with the stranded
crew to build a fort rather than a mission led by a priest of the
Lord Jesus Christ’s. Perhaps, one of those seamen might have
been self-ordained by Columbus to serve as a worship leader on
Sabbaths until Columbus’s return with an ordained man-of-thecloth.
I would not make that mistake. I would be that man to our
ecumenical body of five worshipers. Nevertheless, the challenge
was daunting:
“How does one establish a Christian Church at a lunar base
among a congregation of Moslems and nominal Christians, or
perhaps, new age humanists, atheists, and agnostics?”
The mission control assessment was not promising. The mission
was sparsely funded from the start. (That was why I had been
included. My fare had enabled the venture to proceed.) The
dearth meant no backup trans-lunar crew carrier was built. Our
rescue ship might be a composite craft, the remnants of booster
engines, crew modules, and expendable launch systems from past
manned space programs. Our hope rested on the cooperation of
Russians, French, Chinese, and American space interests
kludging a vehicle able to reach us in less than three months.
In the course of space exploration beginning with Sputnik,
October 4, 1957 to this day July 20, 2030, no manned spacecraft
had been disabled by a meteor strike on a space mission. The
chance of such was miniscule. In fact, neither had any manmade particle of space refuse brought down a spacecraft in orbit.
That original Eagle lander’s descent stage nested in sight. Like a
huge bird’s nest it appeared in our crew quarters viewing port.
Only the bird had departed carrying Armstrong and Aldrin
25
homeward bound sixty plus years in the past
Its lifeless presence reminded all that our craft might became a
similar nest, only in this case a grave for five lunar sojourners. I
vaguely recalled the speech planned by President Richard Nixon
should those Apollo 11 astronauts have met our potential fate. It
went something like this:
”We know there is no hope for their return. They will be
mourned by their families and friends: they will be mourned by
their nation: they will be mourned by the people of the
world…For every human being who looks up to the Moon in the
nights to come will know there is some corner of another world
that is forever mankind.”
But, the navigational precision had been astounding. Our base
stood less than a kilometer from the departed Eagle’s nest.
Should the rescue succeed, at least, our location was precisely
known. And three months was ample time for the kinds of
agreements and technical processes needed to succeed.
I’d carefully studied that tragic Columbia mission.
Most
discounted any chance to have rescued that Shuttle crew should
they have known of the fatal hole in the leading edge of the left
wing which led to their fiery deaths on reentry. I disagreed from
the beginning, believing a rescue would have been possible by a
later Shuttle had it been undertaken.
Months later, the
investigation revealed, indeed, the rescue very well could have
succeeded. The sister Shuttle Atlantis might have served that role.
At least, we had the option never availed Rick Husband and
crew, an “expedited rescue mission.”
Besides, there was ample opportunity to pray for our salvation, a
luxury not availed those on board Columbia whose demise left
only a few minutes of intercession. And this I did, in earnest.
These were my first words of witness, “May God have mercy on
our souls.” Because the phrase was an often spoken spiritual
26
clique, no one took note, expressed offense, or argued about
God’s existence. The numbness of what we faced dulled any
discussion of such matters. No one even shot back with the
retort, “God helps them who help themselves.” That idea was
even more ridiculous to the unbelievers among us than the
existence of God. There was absolutely nothing we could do to
help ourselves get off the Moon and return to Earth; our return
craft orbited overhead, a useless mass of space refuse, good for
nothing in its lifeless state.
Likewise, our state as explorers had ended. All planned EVAs,
i.e., extra-vehicular-activities, as NASA stilled called ventures
from the confines of a lunar base were cancelled. Even the
briefest opening of the airlock expended precious oxygen. We
were in survival mode. Our lunar habitat was now a Bastille
Base for five incarcerated astronauts. No felon in mankind’s
history found his prison more remote from the general population
than ours.
I remembered Gospel visits to the Ramsey II prison near the
Johnson Space Center, forty-five years in the past. Entering for
the first time, I found the unit intimidating. The “joint”, as the
inmates called it, was a labyrinth of mortar and metal. Yet, the
coldness of the surroundings had birthed a kind of socialization
not found beyond its walls. While prosecutors scoffed at “jailhouse” conversions, I soon found them altogether genuine. The
glowing faith of those incarcerated saints was more fervent than
mine. I always left spiritually stronger than I came. Perhaps,
this was a similar opportunity.
My analysis of those Christian prisoners concluded that the
absence of distractions, beyond the walls, encouraged reflection,
prayer, and Scripture study, all promoting a stronger faith. But
there, unlike here, most of the men were zealous Christians,
caring nothing about denominational labels.
Our labels were
significant: Moslem, Methodist, Evangelical, atheist, agnostic, or
whatever any of us choose as a spiritual classification.
27
But those prison fellowships hadn’t started as such. It had been
via one-to-one encounters between the incarcerated which led to
a large body of faith.
In a sense, the “tank” as they called
solitary confinement was a blessing for the tank dwellers. There
a gospel visitor found men able to honestly bare their thoughts,
doubts, prejudice, and pride in a confidential setting. Often, they
returned to the general population changed, convinced of the
truth of Christ.
“That’s it!” We were a version of Ramsey II, only 240,000 miles
from Rosharen, Texas. The architecture of the lunar base had
partitioned a kind of cubicle living set up. Each of our “cells”
was approximately the six foot by nine foot confinement unit of
TDC’s (Texas Department of Correction) prison farms. Unlike
those who dreamed of scaling Ramey II’s barbed wire, we
entertained no thoughts of scaling the 75 miles into lunar orbit for
escape. Our defunct getaway ship had no engine. We were in for
the full term. No time off for good behavior.
No reduced
sentence from the board of pardons and paroles. In fact, ours
might well be a life sentence should a rescue mission fail.
In this context, I might be successful in assisting each, among us,
in experiencing a life changing encounter with Christ. If God
could so change men on death row so could He turn the prospect
of a solitary death on the Moon to life with Him forevermore.
“With who should I begin? Mohammed? Astronaut Mary Evers,
a Doctor of both Medicine and Aerospace Engineering?
Spaceman Sid Larue, United States Marine Corps Colonel, first
to pilot a ramjet aircraft around the world in eighty minutes? Or
woman cosmonaut Valerie Brokowka, recipient of the Gagarin
Medal for space valor while aboard the Russian Module of the
International Space Station?”
If I chose the order, I might have begun with Mary Evers, the
MD, but I wasn’t the one to make the call. It would have to be
Him, the one whose voice I would be communicating, the Lord
Jesus Christ. It was important to wait for that opportunity. Only
28
He could arrange the place, the time and the topic.
I’d wait.
Immediately, word came about rescue plans. The magnitude of
the venture would take months. Nevertheless, assurances coming
from political and scientific representatives comforted us.
Especially gratifying was the launch of a surveillance probe, a
camera system equipped with an orientation control system. The
unmanned craft would examine the meteor strike as well as the
damage to the Earth Return Vehicle (ERV). It would arrive in
lunar orbit in approximately 80 hours. Another hour would be
required for matching its orbit and position with the ERV. In
effect, the system was just the type of robot used to examine the
hull of the Titanic nestled on the ocean bottom.
Had such been used by Columbia in 2003, the fatal outcome
might have been altered. Of course, a simple space suited
astronaut EVA would likewise have spared lives. But most were
confident that the external tank’s shredding insulation had missed
the space shuttle’s wing. How very wrong they had been! At
lease, this time, we’d benefit from close-up high resolution video
external and internal to our ship, the ERV. Overconfidence would
not determine our destiny.
In the ensuing hours, my role was minimal, especially, because I
was no more than a passenger. I found an isolated space within
the confines of Tranquility Base II, an appropriate name
considering the plans and purposes of the mission. Hidden
beneath the Environment Control System Oxygen Regulator
Unit, the ECSORU as NASA-ESE termed it, I quieted my mind.
In the past, private devotions worked best for me when I
employed the Scripture about “singing to yourselves in spiritual
songs making music in your hearts to the Lord.” This, I did,
humming softly favorite Psalms and Hymns beyond earshot of
the crew.
Whether, it was Satan’s distraction or a comforting act of the
Holy Spirit, I was clueless. Sleep overtook me after only a few
29
minutes of “making melody in my heart to the Lord.” It must
have been the presence of God. As a young convert, I’d often
joked about God’s prophecy concerning the latter days when
“Young men would see visions and old men dream dreams.” In
my early Christian walk, I’d had several God-given dreams but
only one vision. “So I’m old before my time, I’d share with
friends.”
Among the dreams, the subject had always been witnessing for
Christ to unbelievers. The most notable dealt with mission trips
to Central and South America. The night before traveling to
Virginia to share the rescue of Apollo 13 on Christian television,
I’d had the first.
It was based on Ernest Hemmingway’s novel The Old Man and
the Sea.
Deep sea fishing, I snagged a huge whale-like fish
and awoke before beaching my catch. At once, the thought of
being a “fisher of men” came to mind. That year, trips to Puerto
Rico and Guyana fulfilled the symbolism of the huge harvest. In
both cases the testimony of the rescue of Apollo 13 I shared
brought the result.
How ironic! I was experiencing an Apollo 13 – like rescue, not
as a rescuer, but as one among the stranded. Perhaps, that was
the reason for the dream I was experiencing while I slept:
As always, the dream had the quality of a 1950s B-rated movie,
black and white, of course, really no sound except that people in
the scenes spoke with kind of a telepathy. I knew what they were
saying as their lips moved. More importantly, I knew what they
were thinking even when they didn’t speak.
I was aboard some kind of a space ship, not any space ship. This
was a wood craft with sails unfurled orbiting the Moon.
Actually, it was a sea-going vessel, something like depicted on
the mission patch for Apollo 12, Conrad and Bean’s Moon
landing mission. They’d named their lander Intrepid.
30
Remarkable about the dream was the fierce wind blowing across
the deck, pushing our vessel toward a collision with the Moon.
There is no wind in space, especially 240,000 miles from Earth.
This was, indeed, a dream, not factual.
Our captain’s shouted orders to deck hands were futile.
“Tie down the mainsail!”
“Helmsman, hold steady the rudder!”
Only twice had I sailed. Both times at the invitation of a NASA
colleague. Those experiences were altogether unpleasant.
I
vowed to only navigate waters in motor powered boats.
Now came the scene which was altogether dream-like, a blend of
sea and space technology.
The first mate yelled, “Abandon
ship!”
On the deck were scores of diver’s suits, rather than space suits.
No oxygen packs were attached. They reminded me of a sci-fi
cover I’d seen in my youth where astronauts were abandoning a
space station in fatigues with only a diver’s helmet protecting
them from the airless void. Of course, they immediately
perished.
“No!”, the captain screamed.
“We have prisoners below deck.
freed.”
They will die without being
Mid-deck was a boarded hole leading into the bowels of the hull.
A crew member pulled up its cover and called below.
“All prisoners are freed. Fend for yourselves. We are doomed.”
I was among those prisoners. We, as a body, mounted a ladder
and escaped from beneath deck to the terrible scene above. To a
31
man, men were screaming expletives more vial and depraved that
any voiced by any R-rated cinema production …until one among
us stood forth and boldly proclaimed…
“UNLESS WE STAY WITH THE SHIP, ALL WILL BE
LOST!”
And I awoke.
Nothing about the dream seemed especially
spiritual though I’d fallen asleep reading the Bible and praying.
Nevertheless, that still small voice promised by the Spirit of God
as a guide soundly spoke, “I sent you the dream. It is my
instruction to you in your circumstance.”
The nature of the dream’s setting – lunar orbit, the spacecraft - a
sailing ship, the space wind, the space suited
divers’ gear
seemed as unreal as scenes John had described during his exile
on Patmos. There, he had recorded the Book of Revelation.
Certainly, my situation was much like his, exiled on the Moon,
unable to free myself except by God’s intervention.
Yet, God
had given John a message to proclaim to the world. At once, I
understood the dream, “UNLESS YOU STAY WITH THE SHIP
ALL WILL BE LOST!” I must share that message with my
crewmates.
The Bible speaks that “out of the mouth of two or three
witnesses” is confirmation of God’s will. In this case, that
second witness had to be God’s Word, the Bible. Carefully, I
retrieved my digital library from the personal preference kit
assigned me. Since those original dozen Moonwalkers walked
the lunar sod, the freedom of including personal effects on the
voyage was granted. I recalled a banner displayed in the narthex
of our Methodist church returned by our member Alan Bean, the
fourth man on the Moon.
Likewise, the second man on the Moon, Edwin Aldrin had
stowed a communion chalice on Apollo 11 which had graced the
Webster Presbyterian Church’s narthex for decades.
How
limited they had been in those electronically challenged days of
32
the 1960s! My digital memory kit alone possessed the entire
library of Congress along with reading materials, songs, videos,
and photos equal to the collected archives of wire service media
collections, and Hollywood film libraries.
But, based on our situation and my reason for being, only one
book was significant, the Book of Books, the Bible. This was the
only book that men did not write. Yes, they had scribed words
on parchment and papyrus, but as Scripture stated they were but
“ready-writers”.
Their recorded writings were tele-operated in robotic fashion by
the very Spirit of the Living God. These were the 66 individual
books which dealt with just the kind of peril we faced. In this
hour, we were much removed from the civilization He had
created on Earth, more than six millenniums in the past. This
was the book that men did not make. It was the book that made
men!
Certainly that man in my dream was a man’s man in the sense of
a jet jockey, a macho astronaut, able to win the favor of others by
virtue of his inner strength and outer courage in the face of peril.
Who was he? Was he the personification of Jesus, the Lord? I
didn’t think so. But what he said, reminded me of Noah, the
preacher. That seagoing captain of the ark must have said
something similar. Those scoffers likely would have heard such
words prior to the flood. “Except you enter into this ark you will
be lost.” Noah and his family, cast upon the ocean sea, amidst a
lost world of millions of drowned souls were but eight in number.
Weren’t we a similarly small group? Five souls.
But, it didn’t fit. Those with Noah knew the danger. Those
eight didn’t need to be convinced of the peril. Likewise, this
dream had everyone believing doom was imminent except for the
man on the deck speaking words of assurance.
Even I had
agreed with the consensus, all was lost, until he appeared and
spoke so forthrightly.
33
He had a supernatural presence, a confidence not of this world, or
rather of this Moon. His was courage and assurance from above,
i.e., from the throne of God far removed from the Earth’s Moon.
It had descended from the heavenlies where Christ sat on the
right hand of God. His message had been sent not from Earth’s
mission control center but from that mission control center above.
I entered the words storm and ship in the search field. Instantly
came the results. Of course, the Noah account. Next the scene
on the sea of Galilee where the disciples called out to Jesus to
save them. But, lastly, came an instance, I hadn’t recalled. This
was the account of Paul’s shipwreck on his missionary voyage to
Rome. Near the conclusion these verses stood out : “Paul
said…except these abide in the ship, ye cannot be saved.” The
situation was like my dream, the sailors were about to abandon
ship, having let down the life boat when Paul intervened.
Remarkable was that the man in charge, a centurion,
took
Paul’s advice. Paul was a prisoner on board the ship just as in the
dream.
The next day, like the destruction of our mother ship Earth
Return Vehicle, Paul’s ship met its destruction. However, before
the ship ran aground, soldiers on board wished to kill the
prisoners including Paul. But the leader, a centurion, intervened
in Paul’s behalf saving not only him but all the prisoners from
death. “And so it came to pass that they all escaped safely to the
land.”
My confirmation…my purpose was confirmed! I was God’s Paul
among our crew. Like Paul, though I was the least among our
five, not even an astronaut, the Lord would use me like Joseph
rescued his brothers, David battled Goliath, and Paul intervened
to save all on board the wrecked ship.
Slowly, I moved from my personal cubicle into the lander’s
stateroom. The Moon base structural design included cubicles
for experiments, food systems, hygienic operations (cleansing
and toiletry), the crew cubicles, and the largest pressurized
34
compartment, the stateroom. It served as a meeting place for
planning lunar operations. Having a Star Trek type bridge-like
assortment of displays, controls, communications, and related
operational hardware, it reminded me of the SpaceHab Shuttle
Cargo Bay module lost in the tragic Columbia disaster.
I’d worked with what NASA called the “crew station” engineers
in the late 1960s. We’d dealt with primitive switches and gauges
in those days. These had become wholly digital, except for a few
“hand controllers” which crew members refused to abandon even
though tele-operated wireless virtual devices proved much
superior. Mohammed was using one of them, pointing the
directional S-band antenna toward the path of the surveillance
probe satellite in route to the ERV.
“What’s the planned rendezvous and docking MET? I asked.
MET was the acronym for mission elapsed time. We knew the
mission MET from launch to dock with the orbiting defunct ERV
was 80 hours.
“They just performed the TLI (Trans-lunar-injection) burn,”
Mohammed answered.
“ That gives us 77 hours to wait for arrival.”
“Any word on rescue mission plans since yesterday?” I asked.
“Check the news uplink on LSI console display three. I put it in
the continuous listening mode. I thought it’s kind of like the
Titanic captain wanting news about a rescue ship. No news is
bad news. Any news is positive It’s the idea that we haven’t
been forgotten even though we’re a quarter million miles from
Earth. That’s why I have it on continuous news uplink.”
“Good idea,” I agreed, touching the pause numeric on the flat
screen. At once, a teletype-like string of streaming news text
wrote out messages, today’s headlines.
35
Wire Services: Houston, 0800, NASA SCIENTISTS PUZZLED.
CONFERENCE WITH NEAR EARTH ASTRONOMY
OBSERVATORIES SHOWS NO METEOR STRIKE ON
TRANQUILY SHIP. SURVEILLANCE PROBE NEEDED TO
RESOLVE EXPLANATION.
“What’s that about?” I asked.
Two of our crewmates had joined us in the stateroom and heard
my question, so I explained, “Apparently, both the orbiting and
ground based surveillance telescopes monitoring our lunar deorbit yesterday have no recorded evidence of a kind of strike by a
meteor or deep space object at the time of the incident.”
(Incident is what we chose to call the loss of the Earth Return
Vehicle.)
“But how can Earth based telescopes detect a meteor strike at
lunar distances?”
That one I could answer, having dealt with the Apollo 13
explosion, three score years in the past.
“It has to do with momentum transfer. The size of our ERV is
sufficiently large with respect to the latest advanced telescopic
systems to be seen. On Apollo 13, the position at the time of the
explosion was viewed by a primitive telescope on the rooftop of
Building 16 at the Manned Spacecraft Center. The concept came
from Jules Verne’s’ novel FROM THE EARTH TO THE
MOON.
With advances in optics of deep space telescopes, orbits, i.e.,
perigee and apogee, can be determined knowing the pointing
angles of the optical system. By simply focusing the ERV in the
scope’s “cross-hairs” so to speak, the expected orbit is confirmed.
Actually, it is sort of a cartoon video taken throughout every
second of our trip to the Moon.
36
Because the ERV was in a quiescent, no thrusters firing state, the
sudden movement resulting from the meteor strike gives a
sentinel effect on the orbit. In fact, the momentum equation
applies, i.e., force multiplied by time equals mass multiplied by
velocity, a simple high school physics problem.
The process is extremely sensitive. So that an object, a firing of a
thruster, or, even, one of us rolling over in our sleep restraint cot
(SRC) is detected. Any of those forces affect a miniscule
deviation in orbit which is recorded. Clever orbital dynamicists
sift through the evidence determining the culprit, on board (an
internal explosion) or outboard (meteor strike). We would just
have to wait for the surveillance probe for confirmation of the
process.”
The only absent crew member had entered the stateroom during
my explanation. I had captured the respect of my colleagues. No
longer was I considered a neophyte. With our lives hanging on
knowing what had destroyed the ERV, an anxious question came
from Mary Evers, the M.D. aero engineer. “So you worked on
the Apollo 13 rescue?”
“Yes, but what I found investigating the mission years later was
more exciting than those four days devoted to saving Lovell and
his crewmates.”
Our Marine Sid Larue, took the bait,
“And what was that?”
“It had to do with the trajectory of reentry. The situation was sort
of like our mystery about the missing meteor. We couldn’t judge
the reentry angle. Not a good thing. (With that my crewmates
agreed. An errant entry determination quickly incinerated Earth
Return Vehicles or worse missed the corridor altogether.)
Trajectory analysis showed an inexplicable shallowing of the
craft. This meant a skip off entry without a second chance. Of
course, that meant death based on limited breathable oxygen.”
37
No one spoke. All ears were listening, eyes staring at me. I was
the only one on board who had dealt with the kind of peril we
faced, not as an astronaut but as a rescuer. I was their Paul,
having the knowledge which might assist their rescue. What I
said next would have to be carefully stated. Within, I began to
rehearse my answer based on what the Bible had said about
sharing your faith…”Always be ready to answer every man
concerning the hope that is in you.” Additionally, whispered the
voice, “ ye ought to answer with meekness and fear.”
It wasn’t necessary to read Scripture to understand the delicate
nature of sharing faith in Jesus Christ. These were intellectual
men and women. Their average I.Q., like those original Apollo
astronauts, neared 140. But my comments would not be of
human intelligence, they had to be inspired by the Spirit of the
Living God. Only spiritual understanding could convince my
crewmates. Paul had written as much in his first letter to the
Corinthian Church with the words, “The natural man receives not
the things of the spirit of God, they are foolishness unto him
because they are spiritually discerned.”
As I prayed for my next remark, an audio alarm tone sounded in
the stateroom. It was a request for an oral uplink. Mission
Control wanted to talk.
The communication came over the
stateroom loud speaker for all to hear. One of the conditions for
participation by contributing nations to this international
ecumenical mission, Return to Tranquility, was a secure
communication link from each nation to their individual crew
member.
Because no nation was sponsoring my participation, I had no
such privilege. My guidance would have to come from above,
far more distant than the Capcom speaking to us on the stateroom
speaker. The reason for these private links was to keep
crewmembers in touch with families. However, I saw this as a
smoke screen justification for more sinister endeavors. Who
knew if family or espionage agents were passing information
along these 240,000 mile wireless cell phone links?
38
The message was sobering: “Crewmembers of Eagle II, this is to
inform you of several developments regarding the nature of the
incident affecting your Earth Return Vehicle. Careful telemetry
analysis of all system data recorded at mission control before,
during and subsequent to the disabling event, indicates the source
of the malfunction to be an explosive device stowed on board.”
At once, all eyes stared at Mohammed.
“My God…an IED akin to those placed in Iraqi vehicles on
board our craft…unthinkable!”
Mohammed must be the
perpetrator. It was the modus operandi of his kind, a suicide
astronaut bomber.” That was my thought, and, I’m sure, the
others. Perhaps, even Mohammed’s.
But, immediately, he shook his head to the negative in denial.
“Well, who was it then?”
LaRue.
yelled the angry Marine Colonel
I spoke, “Before we accuse one another, let’s consider that all of
us may be innocent. In fact, none of us can be sure it wasn’t he
or she. Didn’t each of us have a personal preference kit stowed
on board the ERV for the return trip? A launch site worker might
have secretly inserted the device among our discretionary items.
We all know cases of such plants. I’ve never passed through
customs without worrying about just that kind of thing. Who’s to
say a like crime was not committed in this case?”
I thought about those twelve disciples at the last supper when
Jesus prophesized that one among them would betray him. Each
had the thought, “Is it I?” Based on what I’d just suggested, I
was asking as were my crewmates, “Is it I?”
Then came the remark from Houston which would make our next
seventy-seven hours a test of faith and raw courage. “We believe
the placement of the detonating device can be specifically
determined by the surveillance probe. It is all but certain the
39
nature and person or persons involved will be apprehended using
recorded on board video during vehicle processing and servicing
as well as mission operations.”
MISSION OPERATIONS?
That would mean one among us would be guilty. We would
know in seventy-seven hours.
But what about the rescue?
What good is solving a crime, if all the innocent victims are not
rescued? That’s when the most startling and discouraging
statement came forth:
”The heads of state have conferred regarding the ability to launch
a rescue mission. There is a very real threat of international
unrest leading to war with hundreds of thousands of lives lost.
The nature of the bomb implant will likely ignite atomic
conflagration.
For this reason, the analysis of the ERV
destruction will only be revealed to a select few in mission
control as well as you, the crew of Eagle II. It has been agreed
there will neither be rescue nor a revealing of the source of the
incident. To that end all radio, video, and text messages will be
inhibited at this time.
In the interest of fairness to you, the crew members of Eagle II,
the surveillance probe findings will be provided via a final Earth
to Moon transmission shortly after rendezvous, 77 hours hence.
The collective opinion of heads of state sponsoring the Return to
Tranquility mission has ordained your fate. They know you will
be comforted with the knowledge that your sacrifice has
preserved hundreds of thousands, and, perhaps, millions of lives,
on our planet.
It is suggested that post 80 hours, crewmembers consider making
their peace with his or her God rather than attempting to preserve
consumables to extend life to the limits of on board power, water,
and oxygen reserves. Life terminating procedures are outlined in
the onboard medical text recorded in the digital archive memory
of the general information computer.
40
Be comforted with the knowledge that, as before, your loss will
be attributed to the fateful meteor strike, so that your family and
friends will hold no animosity toward the sponsoring nations.
Each of you has been an agent promoting international peace and
religious tranquility. For this we are grateful.”
“$%&**!” was Marine LaRue’s immediate response.
admittedly, I was not praising the Lord either.
And
“If those politico’s think, I’m going to take their cyanide caplets
to spare them atomic war…forget it! They were so sure this
mission was going to promote peace…let them deal with the
bomb issue to preserve peace. That’s their day job, diplomacy.”
An immediate caucus of our five, every man and women,
rejected the suggestion of communal suicide for The benefit of all
mankind.
“Wonder how Armstrong would have come up with a quote for
us?” Commented Russian cosmonaut Valarie Brokowka.
“He’d have to alter it from one small step for a man to five
small pills for three men and two women,” answered Mary
Evers, our on board M.D. adding, “This is a coed mission!”
“That would be a mouthful. Ups, sorry, no pun intended,” added
Larue.
“But then,” said Mohammed, “there will be no last words from
us. The communication system is dead just like they want us to
be in a few hours, deceased. I just checked it. They killed it like
they said they would.”
I interrupted, “How about each of us taking a time out in our
personal cubicles? Come back to the stateroom with ideas about
savings ourselves. How about returning in an hour? We’re here
because each of us represents the best and brightest among our
kind. Let’s see if we are?”
41
All agreed, knowing our ultimate demise was weeks, even
months away. Much could happen in so long a time. Already,
based on my knowledge of Apollo 13, and the failed rescues of
Challenger and Columbia, escape scenarios were welling up in
my mind. However, the real reason for the suggestion wasn’t a
desire to think up a means of escape. Rather, the intent was to
“pray up” an answer from the Lord. Only He could rescue us
from the death sentence pronounced by the Eagle II Mission
Consortium.
Knowing my digital assistant contained all of God’s wisdom
form Genesis to Revelation, I began to pray. First, not for my
life, but for the salvation of my four crewmates. In a sense, the
threat we faced was a god-given opportunity to share the Lord
Jesus.
We needed a door of escape opened. He promised to open doors
in Revelation 3:8 which no man could close. So what if the Earth
refused our return, the Lord himself could overcome their plans.
The Bible said, “He made streams in the desert…and a way in the
wilderness.” Could he, therefore, not show us a path home from
the Moon?
But should He choose a spiritual escape such that our spirits and
souls left our lifeless bodies at Tranquility Base, that would be
the greatest escape. For that to happen, I must share the wonders
of His salvation. In effect, the dream was coming to pass, except
that we had no centurion for our rescue. We had been left behind
on the Moon, just as those imprisoned souls faced drowning
aboard that embattled ship. But I would be the Paul of this event.
With Jesus, the Lord, I was in the majority even over the five
nation consortium, the C-5, whose vast armies ruled the entire
planet. THE BATTLE HAD BEGUN. JESUS WOULD
PREVAIL!
I was first back.
The remaining four stateroom couch’s were
unoccupied. The same silly idea which crossed my mind in 1975
42
came forth. Then, I’d been a Christian only three years.
Nevertheless, a group of Christian business men included me on
a lay witness mission to Belize, a small country in Central
America. They felt that a NASA lay person sharing his faith
would impress Belize government leaders.
We had invited both business and government leaders to share a
weekend with our group on a tiny island thirty miles off the coast
in the Gulf of Mexico. My roommate was a confirmed agnostic.
Unable to convince him of the reality of Christ, I fretted over my
failure. He had fled from me each evening, returning to our
room, long after I was asleep. Laying awake, I had the thought,
“Didn’t the Bible say, ‘at the hands of Paul were signs and
wonders done among the people…so that out of his body were
taken handkerchiefs and aprons unto the sick…’ so that they were
healed and evil spirits left them.”
Looking across the room, I saw my roommate’s pillow. “Why
not try it…what’s there to lose?” And so, placing both hands on
the pillow case, kneeling at his bedside, I prayed that somehow
someway Christ’s Holy Spirit would use my prayer as a point of
contact so that when my friend rested his head there later that
night, Jesus would say, “HE’S MINE!”
I got a letter from him several weeks after returning to Houston.
“Justin, you won’t believe it, but I thought I had escaped all your
testimonies and stories of Christ’s work in your lives. But I
didn’t.
Somehow I got contaminated with CHRIST
RADIATION. My wife and I knelt by our bedside and have
invited Christ into our lives as Lord and Savior.”
That year was the international cooperative docking mission with
the Soviets. Some of my Christian colleagues had placed
Russian language Bibles in the Holiday Inn rooms of the visiting
Soviets. When they departed, the Bibles were missing. Those
were the days when one had to smuggle Bibles into the USSR.
Those Russian space scientists must have appreciated what they
43
read so much as to take the Word of God back to Communist
Russia with them.
Quickly, I arose and placed both hands on each couch seat. One
by one, I prayed the same prayer prayed on that pillow while on
that small island nearly 60 years ago.
“What are you doing?” Mary Evers asked.
“Adjusting the couches for our conference,” I answered
truthfully, since I was adjusting the potential for the Holy Spirit’s
help. I wanted our conference to prove fruitful for our escape,
the physical one as well as the GREAT ESCAPE that only Jesus
Christ could provide.
Each had notes composed during their hour’s reflection.
Evers was first to submit her ideas to the group.
Mary
“My experience and education deals with medicine and aerospace
engineering. Now my medical oath requires me to save not
euthanize lives. For that reason should we be unsuccessful, I will
not be administering any kind of Jim Jones poisonous child’s
drink to any of you, least of all, myself. Do you understand
me?”
“All nodded.”
“As for aerospace solutions, I must admit I am a bit handicapped.
There is no air on the Moon.
However, I’ve done research
dealing with supersonic edge of space type air-space craft. These
vehicles were akin to the primitive Shuttle of the past century.
Our Eagle II Tranquility Base Ascent Stage is wholly operational
such that we can escape the Moon’s surface. Obviously, that is
of no advantage since the Earth Return Vehicle is likely severely
impaired. The question is how extensive is the damage to its
systems? Probably, its propulsion system is useless, but what
about its stores of battery power, oxygen, water, and food stuffs?
44
“Granted our base ascent stage is quite modest, designed for five
people’s ascent and rendezvous with the ERV, but Justin, didn’t
Apollo 13 use the lunar lander in like fashion to extend its
capabilities. You took a two man two day ship and made it last
three men four days, the time for the voyage back to Earth?”
“Yes, of course, but we also had the descent stage intact. That
lower stage possessed oxygen, water, electrical power for several
days on the Moon. Had we experienced the explosion of the
mother ship after the descent stage deployed to the Moon, we
could not have saved the crew.”
Mary countered, “Can we at least run the numbers on residual
propellants and other stores for our ascent stage once we dock
with the ERV?”
Sid LaRue interrupted, “I’m a propulsion guy and, while I agree
that ample electrical power, oxygen generation, water, and
foodstuffs may be cannibalized from the ERV, I am absolutely
certain that the ascent stage’s propulsion system will not supply
sufficient delta V for an Earth return.”
“So much for my solution,” sighed Astronaut Evers.
I
tried to cheer her, “Well, Mary, don’t be too hard on yourself.
The ERV’s propulsion system might yet be used. How do we
know the extent of the damage until the surveillance probe
arrives?
On Apollo 13, Gene Kranz and other propulsion
engineers were considering using it though the explosion might
have compromised its performance.
Could be, as a last alternative, we may have to do the same.
Perhaps, a hybrid burn might work using both the ascent stage’s
engine and the ERV to kick us out of lunar orbit for a TEI (Trans
Earth Injection). At any rate, even if the ERV engine explodes,
that will be a far better course than those cyanide pills. We
would become a bright glow in Earth’s night sky, our remains
forever a new satellite orbiting the Moon.”
I
45
watched the group, “My assessments were impressing them. It
was obvious to all that having me on board was fortuitous based
on my Apollo experience.
Later, they would more fully
understand just how fortunate they were for several reasons.”
It was Mohammed’s turn. “I know all of you are suspicious of
me, based on what you read, hear, and see in the media about
Islamic terrorism. Be assured, I want to survive every bit as
much as you do. My wife and two children love me as much as
yours do you. Regardless of any deals between potentates of my
nation and yours, I am blameless. I will join you four in doing all
that I can for our survival.”
But, I’d better say something about Mohammed’s plea:
“I know that we are supposed to be silent about our personal
faith but from a child in a Christian Sunday School, I was taught
to love others as I loved myself. I love myself enough to want to
stay alive, and, I believe you, Mohammed, and the rest of us
would share that kind of love. My prayer is that all of us will not
be suspicious of one another. And, even if the probe does reveal
one as guilty, let there be enough regard, and, yes, love, to
forgive and forget that act as we work as a survival team of five.
Can we all agree to that?”
I extended my hand to Mohammed. As he reached for mine, I
noticed the briefest glint, a reflection from his eye. Was it a tear?
Surely, not. Men don’t cry. But then, three other hands were
extended as well, and glints were seen all around. We were a
team. Truly, the goal of this mission had been achieved. Too
bad, no one on the planet would know about its success.
“Thanks, I’ll share something later about my idea,” concluded
Mohammed.
It was Cosmonaut Valerie’s turn.
46
“I don’t have a technical proposal to offer, but I do have
something that will encourage everyone. I share this because of
doubts I had about this mission before leaving the Russian space
center in the Steppes.”
“What’s this about?” All wondered.
“Since the collapse of Communism in my country, a suspicious
remnant of former KGB agents, a type of espionage underground,
has thrived across our land from Moscow and Leningrad, even to
the far eastern reaches of Vladivostok. I conferred with an agent
in that cabal though I do not agree with the tenets of communism
or these clandestine endeavors.
However, my distrust of the
current regime compelled me to do so in the interest of my
survival. I, too, have a family…a husband and young daughter.
You Americans will appreciate my plan. I got it from watching
one of your so-called B-Movies late one night on the Russian
Gold Star Satellite. It featured your historic gangster Al Capone
and that Valentine’s Day Massacre, a century ago. One of those
who was invited to meet with Capone’s henchmen wanted to
make sure he would be rescued should the meeting be a trick. He
would call his rescuer five minutes after the meeting started. If
no call was forthcoming, the rescuer was to storm the building
and free him from Capone’s henchmen.
Likewise, through the most secure channels, I contacted the
remnants of our KGB with a similar message. Should they not
receive my radio transmission two weeks from the day of launch,
they were to exercise pressure on our government to investigate
the reason the message was not sent.
In effect, through
international underworld elements whose representatives had
influence with all the heads of state in the consortium, they had
devised a “foolproof” means of affecting a rescue.”
“Could this be?” All wondered, or was Valerie simply fabricating
a story to comfort us. Her follow-up comment assured us she
was truthful.
47
“But based on our situation, I don’t think my plan is going to
save us. Just prior to launch, actually, the day before, I grew
anxious about the plan, ‘What if I can’t contact my agent from
the Moon for a reason not related to a sinister plot? If this were
the case, our entire good-will Eagle II mission would be
inadvertently ruined. Perhaps, by a communication malfunction.
So I changed the alarm scheme. The rescue plan would only go
forth if I spoke to my contacts via my personal communicator,
the one given each of us to confer with our governments. I would
use code words to initiate the rescue. Those words would be, I,
Valerie Brokowka, Cosmonaut, send this message in honor of the
great Russian space pioneer Yuri Gagarin.
Once those specific words were transmitted, the rescue
groundwork would be set in motion. Of course, that will not
happen. We cannot communicate any longer with Earth.”
“Ugh!” groaned Colonel Sid LaRue, United States Marine Corps.
He continued, “Hear me out before you begin to chuckle or laugh
at my idea. I appreciate Justin’s suggestion to simply spend an
hour in seclusion thinking about a rescue solution. I really think
the idea I have might work.
For years, I’ve enjoyed investigating urban legends.
These
popularly held ideas that are bogus have fascinated me. They
have existed for centuries. In fact, many of these legends have to
do with the Moon and the planets. Remember the idea of the
canals on Mars an astronomer put forth because his primitive
telescope only resolved huge rills which appeared canal-like
from Earth. Then there was the man in the Moon story told kids
at bedtime along with the assertion that the Moon was made out
of cheese because the craters gave the surface cheese-like pock
marks.
But the urban legend that gave me the idea for our rescue was the
one about being able to see the Great Wall of China from the
48
Moon.
Actually, it may no longer be an urban legend with
advances in the resolving power of space based telescopes.
Consider the advanced Hubble orbiting telescopic system.
Everyone of us drives Earth’s freeways with that stowed folded
cardboard sun shield to protect our dash board leather from sun
exposure. On the flip side of virtually all of them is that bold
red-lettered sign: HELP! CALL POLICE. There are going to be
both amateur and observatory astronomers focusing telescopes on
our base.
In fact, I’m sure they are already snooping over us during Earth’s
night. These are full Moon days on Earth. Why not excavate a
like sign in the lunar regolith surrounding the Eagle II with letters
engraved so large as to be viewable from Earth? HELP SEND
RESCUE SHIP could be our message, or simply HELP WE
LIVE.
Better yet, even though I’m a military guy, not in the Navy, I
suggest a simple S.O.S. drawn in the lunar regolith. We can use
that large adjacent crater, the one Armstrong flew Eagle past as
our “O” and scribe the pair of S’s on either side. We can fashion
a shovel-like grader and attach it to the front end of our lunar
rover.”
“This has got to be the most plausible idea yet,” was my thought.
“Only a marine could have such a rudimentary yet brilliant plan.
My admiration for Sid had grown.”
Mohammed spoke, “Sid, how large would the letters have to be
to be seen?”
“I’m going to leave that to Justin to calculate. He’s the one with
background in such science.”
Mohammed continued, “But what about the air lost each time we
EVA to the rover via the air lock. That will shorten our lifetime
49
if the message isn’t recognized or the rescue mission is not
enacted.”
Valerie added the thought, “Won’t the letters have to be so deep
as to make a shadow just like seen when the crater forms a
shadowed “O” shape as seen from Earth? Does our excavator
have that kind of digging power?”
She had a point.
I remembered Aldrin trying to plant that
American flag in the stiff hard lunar regolith. True, the top layer
was powdery and dust-like but a few inches beneath that talcum
lay a terrifically compacted type soil if you wanted to designate it
as such. As a result, the ascent engine exhaust from the Eagle
had toppled the weakly implanted Stars and Stripes. In fact, from
our port viewing window, it could be seen semi-buried in the
lunar dust-like soil. It remained just as Armstrong and Aldrin
had left it sixty-one years ago. We would have to give Sid’s idea
very careful analysis. It’s pros and cons meant life or death.
“What’s your idea?” asked Sid.
“Actually, I haven’t got one yet, but yours really has promise so
I’m going to spend some time working on it. Let’s meet back
tomorrow afternoon at the same time. The probe will be within
48 hours of rendezvous. How about discussing what it might
reveal, and how we should deal with it?”
God was doing something with us. Despite the fact that I was the
only non-astronaut among us, the space men and women were
giving place to me as sort of an ex-officio lead man. Perhaps, it
was my age, elder to all of them by two score years. Perhaps, it
was because they were all equal in their view, so, in order to
avoid jealousy or disputation, let me lead. No one resented that.
Or, was it my dream, a supernatural something of the Holy Spirit
arranging my role in the rescue, as He had brought forth Paul’s to
save those prisoners in the midst of the storm. Time would tell.
50
M.E.T. 120 Hours
Following a restless night for all of us, Mohammed’s call served
as an alarm clock.
“Everyone come to the stateroom.
I’ve got some good news.”
I was last to come, finding Mohammed, our designated
communication’s officer smiling in front of the Earth to Moon
video screen. The screen displayed the NASA Select Channel.
A camera mounted in the JSC Control Room captured a few
flight controllers anxiously monitoring the surveillance probe.
“Look what they are doing. Sending us video but denying our
transmissions. Notice the status displays for telemetry from
Eagle II, our base. All blank.
As they promised, all contact with us is inhibited. As far as the
control center and Earth is concerned, we are no more.”
Mohammed demonstrated by selecting the various broadcast
channels in addition to the NASA programming. There was the
Science Channel reporting live updates every fifteen minutes
about our reported deaths. Here was the content of the news
release from the ruling mission Consortium:
Dateline, July 22, 2030, New York (Space News Daily):
Following the impairment of Eagle II’s Earth Return Vehicle, it
was confirmed that the five person crew safely landed at
Tranquility Base and activated the lunar base. After satisfactory
communications with the extraterrestrial facility, in mid-sentence
all contact with the base was terminated. It is speculated that the
explosion (or meteor impact) which disabled the ERV may have
likewise compromised the base structure such that a rapid
decompression of its interior resulted in the demise of all five
crew members. Though that may explain the loss of voice
communication, it does not explain the loss of all telemetry from
51
Eagle II. A surveillance probe launched yesterday will arrive at
the orbital location of the ERV in fifty-hours. It is hoped that the
automated, tele-operated probe will explain the tragic loss of the
return to Earth vehicle. A rescue mission had been planned, but
the potential loss of the base has cancelled all rescue efforts.
Photos of the members of Eagle II follow:
After photos appeared of Mohammed, Mary, Valerie, and Sid,
my NASA photo from the year 2010 was displayed. It was the
one NASA security kept in case employees lost their original
badge. My crewmates, laughed.
Mary expressed their sentiments…”My God Justin, was that your
high school year book photo?”
They all laughed, except for me.
But that was a good sign.
Our spirits were hopeful, perhaps, even confident that there
would be a means of escape.
Something as innocent as a failed Moon mission, even if
terrorism was involved, could not have set off World War III,
twenty-five years ago. But the ensuing years had seen the rise of
the Non-Aligned-Nations-Alliance. The acronym NANA was
anything but the name for a child’s caregiver. No international
entity since the middle ages threatened civilization more greatly.
Not Attila’s Huns, Hitler’s Nazis, Stalin’s Communists, or even
Islam’s bands of international terrorists equaled the unspeakable
evil of the Alliance.
The source of this infamy was NANA’s supreme potentate, Salik
Akema. The man’s character was a personification of Attila,
Hitler, Stalin and the most nefarious of Jihadists.
The irony was that Akema had crafted such power from an
alliance of altogether unimpressive nations whose military and
economic resources were insignificant. Their combined GNP
was at most five percent of the World’s. Nevertheless, their
52
venomous disregard for human life made them formidable
adversaries, even to civilization itself. The mere suspicion that
the Consortium of Five might have staged the Eagle II’s demise
to appear as NANA terrorism threatened to launch a murderous
ploy. This was the feared Masada Response.
53
The Masada Response
For those unfamiliar with Bible history, Masada was the site of
suicide by a sect of 960 ancient Jews. The incident ranked
among the top horrors of first century Hebrew history. Most
Bible commentaries say little of it. It dealt with non-Christians.
Yet the resolve of those Jews and their leader Eleazar was
impressive. (Actually, those who died at Masada were an
offshoot of a Jewish sect known as the Zealots. They were
called the Sicarii.)
Rather than suffer capture or defeat at the hands of their Roman
adversaries, the Sicarii chose another course. It would end the
lives of all men, women, and children among their kind.
However, in that first century event, only the Sicarii died not
their enemies, the Romans. It was from this historic antiquity
that NANA’s Masada Response was conceived.
Remarkably, Salik Akema had birthed his plan for civilization’s
demise at a meeting to establish world-wide peace. What an irony
it was! A Jewish envoy had told NANA’s potentate, a Moslem,
of the Masada event, a happening two millenniums in the past.
This led Akema to research the account. His Jewish counterpart
in the peace negotiations had suggested he do so. The Hebrew
had even supplied Akema with a copy of the text describing the
event, Flavius Josephus’ Antiquity of the Jews.
A score of pages in the ancient text by that Hebrew historian
became the foundation for NANA’s Masada atomic deterrent.
Those entrapped Jews, numbered almost a thousand adults and
children. They became Akema’s heroes. In his demented
assessment, these were scriptural types for the citizens of
NANA’s nations.
The besieged Hebrews, captive in their Masada fortress, were
under Eleazar’s command.
His followers, the previously
mentioned Sicarii, were a horrific band of former assassins,
54
torturers, and murderers. Actually, the name Sicarii means
“dagger-men,” appropriate to their evil ways. In Salik’s mind’s
eye, he was a modern day Eleazar, the NANA-ians were the
Sicarii’s counterpart, and their Roman enemy was akin to the
Consortium of Five.
Akema’s study of Sicarii terrorism played to Salik’s baser
qualities. Though Jews, they replicated the kinds of marketplace
atrocities he had come to admire among Jihad proponents. In a
sense, Akema was becoming a terrorist suicide bomber. His
marketplace would be the entire world.
Careful study of Josephus’s account led to the Masada Response.
From Eleazar’s plans, NANA’s potentate adapted his nefarious
scheme.
As Josephus described the impregnable natural
mountain fortress, Akema conceived a twenty-first century
counterpart. He was impressed by the deep gorges which
surrounded Masada’s isolated and elevated natural plateau. This
contributed to Masada’s invulnerability.
Akema fashioned his own Masada gorges. Whereby, Eleazar’s
impregnable fortress rose nearly 700 feet above the surrounding
terrain, Akema’s gorge fortresses descended a like depth beneath
surrounding environs.
What made his Masada fortresses
invincible was their content. They were Hell-hole gorges
stocked with scores of launch-able atom bombs. His “daggermen” could assassinate the world even as the Sicarii had dealt
with their adversaries.
Akema’s reading of Eleazar’s strategy led to added defenses
against Consortium attacks. Masada had self-sustaining cisterns
as well as cultivated farms for food stuffs. These stores of water
and nutrients assured sustenance while the Romans
unsuccessfully besieged the fortress. Likewise, Akema’s Masada
sites had natural water collection means as well as hidden
hydroponics gardens fed by the natural cisterns.
55
Yet, like Eleazar, Akema was a realist, knowing that no fortress
could forever withstand the overwhelming forces of either the
Romans or the Consortium of Five. This was the realization
which led to the suicidal strategy which became the crux of the
Masada response.
Eleazar had crafted an inner wall of fortification. The previously
built Herod wall of defense had been thwarted by catapults of
shrapnel and stone. The inner wall survived by virtue of its
resilient design. The Herod wall, though eighteen feet high and
twelve feet thick, was constructed of stone.
The Romans erected a mound of stone and soil which lifted their
catapult hurlers sufficiently to hurl massive boulders into the
outer wall. Soon cracks gave way to rubble and the outer wall
was breached. But Eleazar, seeing the result, cleverly built a pair
of inner walls. These had a compliant design, as Josephus writes
“soft and yielding.” They were composed of huge logs arranged
horizontally so that the catapulted boulders were ineffectual.
The logs were pliable. They did not crumble as did Herod’s
walls of stone.
In like fashion, Akema’s Hell holes had a concentric cylindrical
design such that only a direct strike into the mouth of each could
destroy their functionality.
Any munitions striking terrain
outside the outer cylinder would shatter the outer tube leaving the
inner intact, cushioned by the tons of absorbent filler poured
between the pair of seven hundred foot pipes.
Yet, Eleazar’s defenses had fallen victim to catapulted “balls of
fire” hurled into the wooden fortifications. It was fire which
spawned Akema’s idea of the Atomic-death. Josephus told of
the unusual “back-fire” which almost destroyed the Roman
attackers. A sudden wind blew the flames from the ignited logs
down upon the Roman legions. Horrible screams and howling
from the incinerated enemies heartened Eleazar and his Sicarii
warriors.
The burning logs were descending upon their
adversaries.
56
At once, Akema recognized the deadly analogy. His deployed Abombs would serve the same purpose. Their deadly “fall-out”
would be the logs of retribution descending upon the Consortium
of Five and all humanity. Yes, he was the twenty-first century
Eleazar and his NANA Masada Sites, the Sicarii
Akema read
on: He discovered the horror of what the Romans had performed
on those Jews who had hidden in a forest prior to the Sicarii
Masada stand. The Romans had simply cut down the entire
forest, then slaughtered the 3000 men, women and children.
Like Eleasar, Akema knew he would face worse punishment at
the hands of the Consortium. It was this knowledge that caused
Salik to carefully consider Eleazar’s final words to his assembled
Sicarii warriors. It was this noble speech, as paraphrased, and,
perhaps, concocted by Josephus, which added to Akema’s
brilliant deterrent, the Masada Response.
Akema took note of Eleazar’s eloquence. Josephus attributed the
acts of Sicarii suicide to it. Yet, he noted in Josephus’s account
of the Sicarii response:
“the opinions of all the Sicarii did not agree; …though
some…were very zealous to put his advice (suicide) in practice,
and thought death to be a good thing…other men …moved by the
prospect of their own certain death…declared by tears their
dissent from Eleazar’s opinion…such would Eleazar speak more
briskly to them.”
Unfortunately, no such obedience was likely from NANA’s
Masada site minions.
Most abhorred Akema. Given the
opportunity they would assassinate the potentate rather than obey
his call to launch the Masada Response. He needed some kind
of “enforcer” equal to Eleazar’s eloquence.
Eleazar’s words about abuses of Jews by the enemy were
Akema’s answer. He read, ”Some of them (Jews) have been put
upon the rack, and tortured by fire, whippings, devoured by wild
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beasts, and BEING SO DESIROUS OF DEATH, COULD NOT
COME OF IT.”
He, Salek Akema, would command obedience by use of torture, a
torture so consuming and painful as to make DEATH
WELCOME. This was the genesis of the Akema brain-chip, an
electronic implant in the very center of the human cerebellum,
the seat of all bodily pain. Akema’s Masada site minions from
commander to the lowest technician would be obedient. Each
would have an implement of agony biologically lodged for that
purpose.
A moment’s application of the device’s electrical shock would
make death more desirous than enduring the pain. And that
would be the reward for obedience, death by performing ones
duty in launching the Masada response. The brain-chip would
remain dormant. Like the fate of the Sicarii, death was certain,
but it would be painless, on one’s own terms.
Therefore, all was in place for NANA’s Eleazar, Akema, to
launch his Sicarii, the hundreds of Atom Bomb “daggers” into
the hearts of all humanity. Because the Alliance’s third world
nations were geographically positioned around the planet, the Abomb fall out from South America, the Caribbean, the Middle
East, and Asia would kill billions. NANA needed no missiles.
Simply the threat of destroying itself held the Consortium of Five
powerless.
Once, neighboring countries had scoffed at NANA’s Masada
Threat until nature, itself, proved the plausibility. Mexican
farmers burned thousands of acres of useless biomass to ready
southern fields for planting. Because the cyclonic motion of
wind currents had steadily shifted toward the continental United
States, the
Mexican smoke caused thousands of deaths
throughout Texas, New Mexico, Louisiana, and Oklahoma.
Should the smoke have been A-bomb fall out, millions rather
than thousands would have perished.
58
Leaders among the NANA nations were wholly dictatorial,
dependent on internal military might to maintain rule over the
populace. A steady stream of vitriolic ridicule flowed from their
mouths. The media broadcast daily the superiority of NANA to
the rest of the civilized world. Such was tolerated based on the
threat of a twenty-first century repeat of Masada.
* * * * *
In a sense, the Eagle II crew understood the course the Council of
Five had taken. Nevertheless, we would not be dictated to by
them or NANA!
It had been years since I’d studied end times theology.
Recounting what I knew from years past, I recalled no symbolism
or suggestion that a NANA-like entity would play a role in
eschatology. Nevertheless, I supposed a case could be made
about the Antichrist, False Prophet and Satan using the Alliance
to their benefit. The group was every bit as evil as those three
agents of the end times. But I had always believed that a
merciful Lord had plans for His redeemed to escape the kind of
result the Masada Response threatened. It would be the doctrine
of the rapture which would prevail. Actually, more than a
doctrine was the rapture. It was faith in Jesus Christ himself to
overcome death and the grave.
The thought followed, “Even if our escape from the Moon’s
surface, sets off an Armageddon-like World War III, we could
be God’s instruments setting the rapture in motion, i.e., the
beginning of the end.”
“What would be gained by dying on the Moon as a whim of the
Consortium of Five? We would not be martyrs for Christ, a
witness of faith. Our group would be a witness for ecumenical
tranquility. Such would be abhorrent to those saints who died
for Christ throughout the ages.”
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“I must prevail in convincing my crewmates of the truth of Jesus’
claims to be the only Son of God, and, likewise, the one and only
way to God the Father. A team of five believers in Christ
returning after leaving Earth as a mix of Islam, agnostics, and
Christians would do far more to witness Christ’s work. ”
60
A Possible But Improbable Means of Escape
“Look at that. Will you?”
It was Sid commenting on the video scene of flowers being
reverently placed at the gate of the Johnson Space Center in
Houston.
“They’re wasting their money.
Valerie.
We’re not dead yet,” added
“Let’s turn it off. I’m getting depressed,” sighed Mary.
Mohammed agreed, and the screen went dark.
Not only was Mary’s spirit cast down, some kind of cloud
seemed to cover all of us. Seeing the flowers and remembrances
set off inner dread, dark thoughts of the future. Despite some
promising ideas about escape, all were problematical. None were
in the least way assured of success. There are simple laws of
random events, like if one flips a coin half the time heads comes
up. Based on such assessments, my calculation was we had one
chance in ten of survival.
“So what!”
From the beginning, my hope had rested on that word Jesus
spoke to his followers about the impossible, “With God all
things are possible.” Our rescue fell into that “all things” set of
outcomes in the mathematics of random events.
Again, I made the suggestion: “Let’s take a cubicle break for
more reflection about a solution. Everyone return at 0500 hours.”
Confined to the 250 cubic foot space called the crew cubicle, I
did what I’d suggested to the others, reflected, i.e., not so much
prayed but thought back to those years of designing Eagle One’s
61
warning system. I looked out my viewing port at the bird I’d
helped birth. There were its four pod-like feet resting slightly
embedded in the lunar dust. Probe-like pipes bent out and
upward from beneath those pods.
I remembered about
them…why they were there. When Armstrong neared touchdown, they contacted the Moon’s surface indicating the descent
engine should be shut down. Unfortunately, Neil couldn’t see
beneath the Eagle to make that determination. Thus, the probes.
But also, unfortunately, there was no way of telling what random
way each of the four would bend under the force of the
descending Eagle’s foot, especially the probe on the front pod
beneath the lander’s ladder.
Looking once more into the lunar horizon, I focused my eyes on
that front pod. There was no probe bent forward or upward.
Well that there wasn’t because Neil might have backed down on
the stiletto-like device puncturing his space suit or tripping and
tearing it. Either would spoil an astronaut’s day. “Neil’s one
small step…” might have been his last. That was the thought
which, at once, ignited my faith to the level I’d experienced after
the dream. The reason the probe wasn’t there was, “God had told
Neil to have it removed just weeks before the mission.” If God
could save Neil’s life through a revelation just weeks before he
might have been killed, the Lord could save ours weeks before
our oxygen was consumed.”
I’d often shared testimony about the “witty inventions” the Lord
gave me with regard to the design of the Eagle’s warning system.
Now, I prayed He would give me a like revelation to save our
lives from the inevitable.
No one can satisfactorily explain how God answers prayer. It is a
miracle. Often it comes so naturally that scoffers say it is not
God at all but circumstance. I expect that’s what makes being a
Christian a “faith walk”, knowing that benefits are not accidental
but Providential.
62
What came into my mind looking at the Eagle is in that category.
Likely, I’d not be able to convince my colleagues it was a
miracle. Yet, I am certain it is God’s still small voice giving
instructions to save us.
The progression of the idea was:
Where is the Eagle’s ascent stage?
The answer: Elsewhere. It carried Armstrong and Aldrin above
to rendezvous with the Astronaut Collins in the Columbia, the
Earth Return Vehicle (ERV).
Next came the question: What are those instruments set around
the Eagle’s landing site for? The answer: They are experiments
telling scientists what the Moon is like.
Question: How do they do that? Answer: By communicating via
radio their data to Earth.
Question: Don’t you need to communicate your status to Earth as
well? Answer: Yes, but we need to talk, not send PCM coded
messages.
Question: Were there other scientific techniques used to explore
the Moon? Answer: Yes, but they were similar to these.
Question: I believe you’ve missed one. What is it? Answer: I
don’t know.
Question: Think about all the missions. There were six, and
what was placed on the Moon? Answer: Apollo 12 was like
Eagle’s. Apollo 13 didn’t land. Apollo 14 did what Apollo 13
should have done except that Alan Shepherd hit a couple three
iron shots. Apollo 15 was like the Eagle except that it brought
with it a LUNAR ROVER.
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Question: What did the Lunar Rover do? Answer: It acted like a
car giving the astronauts a wider area to explore.
Question: How did they communicate from the Lunar Rover?
Answer: They used a radio with VOICE COMMUNICATION.
“My God and my Lord!” That’s Your answer, our only hope, the
LUNAR ROVER. We had one as well, but unlike Apollo’s, ours
could not communicate directly to mission control like Apollo’s.
I powered the digital assistant’s informational data base.
Entering the search words Apollo Lunar Rover, a map of the
Moon appeared on the screen. There were three rovers on the
Moon, Apollo 15’s, 16’s and 17’s. The map had three “x’s”
indicating locations of each as well as the landing site of the
Eagle.
Using the scaling function of the digital assistant, I estimated the
distance to each. Apollo 15’s was more than 300 miles away, but
Apollo 16’s rover, last driven by Astronauts John Young and
Charlie Duke, was only 190 miles distant. Our rover’s speed and
range was superior to Apollo’s ten mile per hour vehicle whose
battery life was 78 hours.
Yes, that Apollo rover could conservatively be reached in less
than twenty-four hours. With residual electrical power from
ours, the long depleted batteries could be jumper charged, or
replaced by power from our rover.
Both, according to
schematics, employed compatible DC power. And likely, the
original Lunar Rover’s communication antenna was still pointed
Earthward. If not, line of sight adjustments could be made.
Simply configuring the output from our rover’s audio preamp
into the Apollo rover’s microphone’s input would give us a clear
voice communication channel to Earth.
The frequency had remained unchanged from Apollo days.
However, likely, it had been reassigned. The question was who
would acknowledge our cry for help? Hopefully, soon, Mission
64
Control, NANA, and the Consortium of Five would be hearing
from a resurrected group of five formerly deceased lunar
explorers. Now the odds had improved. “With God nothing
shall be impossible to you.”
Though 0500 hours was yet an hour away, I quickly entered the
stateroom with the digital assistant in hand to explain the Godgiven revelation. As always, Mohammed was early, tending the
communication station, listening and watching those depressing
reports now broadcast from Earth.
Being with one who professed faith in a god apart from the Lord
Jesus Christ gave me pause. I voiced a silent prayer that I might
be able to open Mohammed’s eyes to the Gospel.
“Mohammed, we’re alone, and there’s a question I’ve wanted to
ask you about your faith. Would it be alright?”
“Of course. Just ask me.”
“I’ve read something about Islam believing that Jesus Christ did
exist, and, that he was a very good man though not God’s only
son. Is that correct?”
“Yes, it is Justin.”
“And I also have read that the Islam faith believes that your
namesake Mohammed was likewise a good man but also a
prophet of God.”
“Yes, indeed. That is our belief.”
“Also, is it not true that we Christians and you Moslems share in
common belief in a portion of the Bible which we call the Old
Testament?”
“Yes, we believe in portions of Genesis. Abraham is considered
the father of our faith as well.”
65
“Do you believe that a prophet talks to God, and God answers his
prayers?”
“Yes, that is why we trust in Mohammed.”
“Do you recall in your holy book, the Koran, instances where
prophets prayed and God answered, but on the other hand those
who were not prophets prayed and God was silent?”
“Yes, the instance of the Tower of Babel shows that.”
“Let each of us pray for rescue to our respective gods in the name
of our prophets, you, in the name of Mohammed, and I, in the
name of my Lord Jesus Christ. We will pray for help from
above. If your prophet be God, then God will give you a solution
to rescue us. If mine, Jesus Christ, be God then He will show us
the way.”
“That sounds reasonable.”
“Let’s pray then.”
And we did, aloud, with no one present. I, in the name of Jesus,
for His wisdom to show me His way to save all of us.
Mohammed, likewise, prayed for like revelation, only to his
god. We left it at that.
It was the appointed time for another meeting, 0500 hours, except
that our Russian colleague was absent.
“Mary, how about checking on Valerie?” Suggested Sid.
When Mary rapped on Valerie’s cubicle hatch, there was no
sound. She repeated the act. Still nothing.
It wasn’t locked, allowing her to crack the seal then push the
mechanism ajar to view into the space. Valerie was gone.
“Where was she?” Astronaut Mary Evers wondered.
66
Eagle II’s base size was modest compared to the spaciousness of
the International Space Station Freedom. Obviously, our base
was no place for a game of hide-n-seek.
Then she heard movement overhead, in the ascent module.
“Valerie, are you up there?”
“Yes, join me. I’ve found something.”
All of us heard the exchange, but only Mary vaulted up the ascent
pole between our base module and the ascent stage.
Long ago lunar ergonomics deleted stairs, steps, and ladders for
upward and downward climbs. The Moon’s downward pull, only
a sixth of Earth’s gravity, made climbing more an arm action
than leg exercise.
Fire station type poles served best, less
massive and space consuming. For lunar launch to the ERV, the
climbing pole was removed, and the hatch to the ascent stage was
closed.
Valerie spoke, “Mary, I’ve been using the COAS.” The Crew
Optical Alignment Sight was a remnant from Apollo days, a
telescope of sorts for vehicle alignment prior to docking.
Orientation was achieved through a cross-hair scribed on the
optics.
It had various locations for mounting throughout the
control station.
This provided a telescopic view out the
individual port windows.
On Apollo 13, Jim Lovell had detached the rescue ship’s COAS
as a souvenir. It had served the crew well in maneuvering the
lander for emergency rocket burns. Ours was a magnitude more
powerful, almost an astronomer’s telescope in comparison,
Valerie handed the COAS to Mary.
“Mary, sight the COAS over there on the lunar horizon.”
67
“Do you see it?”
“What is it? It must be less than a mile distant.”
Valerie answered, “It’s one of our Lunahod landers.”
“I remember that from my studies in aeronautic-astronautic
history at the University. Your country attempted to preempt
America’s first manned lunar landing by returning Moon soil to
Earth prior to Apollo 11’s return.”
Valerie interrupted, “It was more than that.
Our lunar rover program had existed for years prior to Luna’s
July 13, 1969 launch. Earlier, it was intended as a program to
rescue our cosmonaut should his lander fail. By having a backup
launch system already on the Moon, we would assure his rescue.
But our failings which led to Armstrong’s victory, likewise,
altered our plans. Instead of a manned rescue lander, the
technology was adapted to a rover for returning Moon rocks to
Earth. That which you see in the distance is our unsuccessful
attempt July 20, 1969, the day Armstrong set foot on the Moon,
sixty years ago. Unfortunately, rather than bringing the first
lunar soil back to Earth before the Americans, it crashed.
Few knew its final resting place.
My grandfather was the
navigational engineer assigned to the project. Prior to his death,
he confided to me, its location. Because its demise had
threatened Armstrong and Aldrin, the Soviet Committee
reporting to the ruling Presidium deemed the location be given
the highest level of confidentiality.“
“Nevertheless, there it is, in all of its fallen glory.”
“So what’s that got to do with us?”
68
“Actually, nothing, except it gave me an idea which just might
work to our benefit.”
“Surely, that rubble can’t be resurrected into some kind of
operating Moon instrument.”
“No, it can’t, but another Luna lander could be, given its mission
and onboard systems. “
“And, just what was that? Another secret landing?”
“No, this one was well publicized, in 1972.
Mission.”
The Luna 20
Valerie punched in the words Luna 20 on her digital assistant.
Up came a sketch of the Soviet unmanned sample return lunar
lander.
“It’s pretty much identical to the Luna over there. It, too, was
intended to return a lunar sample to Earth, except that it
functioned beautifully.”
In response, Mary questioned, “Oh, great, so there is some lunar
regolith somewhere in a Russian curatorial facility. What’s that
going to do for us?”
“Nothing, but the Luna descent stage isn’t in Russia. It’s about
600 miles east of us WITH A PANAROMIC TELEVISON
SYSTEM for Earth transmission!”
“Really!” exclaimed Astronaut Evers.
“Let’s tell the others…”
“What have you been up do? You’ve a half hour overdue for our
0500 meeting,” fretted Mohammed. “The quicker we come up
with some kind of alternative will make everyone hopeful, even
if it’s problematic.”
69
Mary interceded in behalf of Valerie.
“Valerie has something like that Mohammed.”
“Tell everyone about it, Valerie.”
Cosmonaut Brokowka detailed the conversation with Mary and
waited for a group rebuttal.
Mohammed was first to object.
His expertise with
extraterrestrial communications led to his doubts.
“Here’s the problem or, better, the problems with it. First of all,
the power systems have been dormant nearly 60 years. Secondly,
that kind of system has to be commanded from Earth. And, once
commanded, someone has to be looking for a return signal, a
transmitted video from the Moon.”
In my mind, I liked Valerie’s innovation. It was similar to what
God had given me. I was about to disclose the lunar rover
scheme, when that still small voice of the Spirit checked my
inclination.
Instead, I injected the thoughts I’d had about the
same kind of difficulties the lunar rover faced.
“How are we going to reach the Luna 20 descent stage?”
“The Eagle II rover,” responded Valerie.
She held her digital assistant (DA) at chest level for all to see
and brought up a lunar map scaled to show our position and the
Soviet probe’s descent stage.
“A rough estimate has the distance at nearly 700 miles.”
“My God,” Sid gasped.
“That’s almost as far as Beaumont is from El Paso, Texas. No
way, we could reach it, and, if we did, the rover’s power system
70
wouldn’t get us back here.”
Mary added, “That’s located in the Moon’s uplands, a
mountainous region. The Eagle II’s rover is no mountain
climber. A 20 degree grade is its max.”
“But if we reached the vicinity of those uplands, perhaps, a footclimb would reach it.” I countered to save face for Valerie’s
idea. After all, the sixth “g” pull of lunar gravity made trekking
by foot measurably easier than scaling Earth’s highlands. Now
was the moment. I gave Mohammed a telling look as I spoke. “I
was meditating about our dilemma.” (Had I said praying, the
group would have rejected the idea as some kind of spiritualizing
about our plight, but the word meditating was akin to
contemplating and raised no suspicions. But, of course,
Mohammed knew exactly what my point was, based on our
earlier prayer.)
“Valerie’s idea will work, but not with the Luna 20 descent stage
television system.”
“Another communication system can be used.
distance to reach, less than two hundred miles.”
It’s a third the
All eyes shifted from Valerie’s DA to mine which I had used to
display a photo of the Apollo manned lunar rover, the four
wheeled, two astronaut Moon car last used in 1972.
71
Relative Locations of Apollo Landers and Luna 20
(Each square is ten lunar degrees: One lunar degree equals approximately 19 Miles)
“There are three still on the Moon. The closest to us was the
second sent to the Moon. It was on the Apollo 16 Mission. John
Young and Charlie Duke used it to extend their reach for
collecting Moon rocks. What makes it promising for our rescue
is its communication system,
IT IS A DIRECT VOICE
CHANNEL TO EARTH.
And it doesn’t have to be commanded from Earth.
The
astronauts activated its messages at will. The communication
link, it’s frequency, has likely been reassigned. Our history
archives will reveal its current use.
At once, everyone’s façade brightened. But again, Mohammed
scoffed at the idea:
“But that kind of vehicle must have had a directional antenna.
The signal strength must have been focused in a narrow beam for
so long a transmission distance.
There is no way, we can
precisely point its antenna to achieve communication lock-up.”
I had Mohammed’s answer on this one.
72
“Mohammed, Apollo usually employed two antennas.
The
primary being a focused hi-gain directional type. But Apollo 13
showed the wisdom of a back-up. The explosion blew a panel
into the directional antenna momentarily interrupting its
transmission. But the back-up, all directional omni-antenna took
over. It preserved communications during the few seconds of the
incident. The telemetry the omni sent to Earth was helpful in
analyzing the accident.”
“Likewise, the Apollo Lunar Rover had both types, a broad beam
omni-directional as well as hi-gain antenna.”
Then Sid came in with his doubts, “But, again, like the Luna,
Apollo 16 has been a lunar museum piece since 1972. It would
be like making Gus Grissom’s Liberty Bell fly another Mercury
Mission after they retrieved it from the depths of the Atlantic
Ocean.”
Sid impressed me.
He knew his manned space history well.
Most had long forgotten that day in 1961 when Grissom’s Liberty
Bell sank in high seas after the hatch blew off, nearly drowning
our second man in space.
“Sid, I was an electrical engineer assigned the warning system
electronics on the lunar lander. We subjected all our hardware to
the severe lunar environment using thermal vacuum chambers at
the Manned Spacecraft Center in Houston, Texas. My hardware
was typical. Besides the units we built for each Moon mission,
extra “boxes” were included for qualification testing. We’d go
beyond the extremes expected on the Moon missions, as well as
the length of time required to operate. The unit was called the
qualification endurance model.
I assure you that if we can reach that Apollo 16 rover, substitute
our Rover’s batteries for power, that communication system will
work just fine.
The question is: can we find a path through the
Moon’s rills and craters to find it?
73
Obviously, Earth is not going to help. They have us deceased.
Our trek will be solely according to our way-finding. It would
be like Columbus faced. He generally knew the direction to go,
but was unsure of where and when his destination would be
reached. And, once there, how would he return. So it is with
us.”
Those bright smiles were fading as the challenge sunk in about
finding the rover, and, hopefully, returning to Eagle II. It might
work, but, again, those who volunteered for the cross-lunar trek
might join Apollo 16’s lunar rover as space age mummy’s,
museum pieces whose space suits became the wrappings of
antiquity.
“Which of us should go?” asked Astronaut Mary Evers. “It’s
really not a matter of courageous volunteering. It’s about who is
best suited for the trek, considering the challenges.” “That’s my
job, piloting the Eagle’s rover,” affirmed Astronaut Sid Larue.
“Yes, you had that training, but it’s a two person vehicle so that
each of us had supplemental rover operations instruction,” added
Mohammed.
“Let me join Sid?”
Cosmonaut Valerie Brokowka asked,
“This is the type of mission I was trained for, trekking over
hazardous terrain.”
I recalled Valerie’s
extracurricular hobbies
scaled the highest peak
than Everest though not
cosmonaut biography.
Among her
was mountain climbing. She had once
in the Urals, said, to be more challenging
nearly as high.
I spoke, “Valerie, consider the peril before you volunteer. By
my assessment, having worked with our Manned Spacecraft
Center lunar cartographers, lunar terrain is a different challenge
from Earth’s mountains. The difference has to do with the
74
deposits of thousands of years of Moon dust. Deposited solar
and meteor
silt can behave like “quick-sand” should you
inadvertently set foot into it.
Some believed that a potential
lunar dust avalanche exists for the hapless Moonwalker. These
are issues no one understands.”
Immediately, Valerie spoke, “Who better to deal with quick sand
and avalanches than a mountain climber and member of Russia’s
Olympic ski team.”
All agreed, it should be Valerie who accompanied Sid.
75
The Rescue One’s Journey
“Before we deploy Eagle II’s lunar rover, I need to explain its
limitations.” Valerie was a student of one for Sid’s rover
orientation classes. He paused, “I think it would be a good idea
for the rest of you to hear what I’ve got to say, as well.”
Quickly, his class had grown to four.
“The reason I want all of you trained in its operation is you’ll be
our mission control center. Johnson Space Center was to have
assisted us, but, of course, we know the story there. In the event
of unforeseen malfunctions or topography challenges, Valerie
and I will be counting on your analysis for help.”
I remembered Duke and Young’s Apollo 16 rover difficulties.
The problem was being among the first to explore lunar regolith.
Only Apollo 15 astronauts Scott and Irwin had previously used
the primitive vehicle, and on an altogether different course, miles
away. How much more challenging would Sid and Valerie’s
journey of scores of miles be!
Reflecting on what those Apollo rover drivers faced for a
journey of a few miles, I assessed their chances as considerably
less than 50 percent of reaching the Apollo 16 rover site.
“Eagle II’s lunar rover is, like Apollo’s, a two astronaut mobile
transporter. It has four independent electric motors, one for each
wheel.
It’s communication links to Earth are routed through
Eagle II’s comm-system, meaning they are inhibited, as are
Eagle II’s. However, Rover II’s audio exchanges can be isolated
from Earth, making Eagle II its autonomous lunar base control
center.
What’s improved with Eagle II is range and speed. Using fuel
cells instead of batteries is responsible. There’s ample energy
and oxygen to make the round trip to Apollo 16’s site twice AS
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THE CROW FLIES, i.e., a direct path to and fro.” “That’s the
greatest challenge. No crow can fly without air, and we can’t
drive the transporter in a line of sight course. There’s going to
be rills, hills, craters, and all matter of unexplored lunar
firmament requiring all sorts of detours from a direct path to
Apollo 16. ”
“Columbus’s journey across the ocean sea was a trip to the local
grocery in comparison.
Truly, this is one of those Captain Kirk missions WHERE NO
MAN HAS SET FOOT BEFORE. Sorry about that Valerie. I
meant to say where NO HUMAN HAS SET FOOT BEFORE. ”
“But, Sid,” I interrupted, “what if the rover is incapacitated?
What can we do to help? You two will be stranded. Even if we
suit up for a cross-lunar foot walk to save you, likely, your suit
packs won’t have sufficient oxygen reserves to bring you back.”
“In that case, we’ll have to simply wait where the rover stalled
for you three to come up with another means of alerting Earth.
We’d just wait. There would be sufficient oxygen supplies in the
Rover’s tanks for our survival for weeks. Needless to say, it
would be terrifically boring. Not the kind of thing even a felon
confined in solitary would enjoy. It’d be a catch-22. We’d have
enough oxygen to walk back, but it would be in the rover, not our
suits.”
“Well, let’s begin.”
Both Valerie and Sid donned their EVA garments, space suits for
short. I always wondered why NASA hadn’t changed the name
Extra-vehicle Activity to the term Moon walk. My idea of an
EVA was a tethered astronaut space suited working on a shuttle
cargo bay payload or space station mechanism. At any rate,
Astronaut Evers had actuated the airlock process.
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The deployment of the rover was akin to that which Apollo Moon
walkers performed, pulling the folded mechanism, in hinge-like
fashion, from its stowed position attached to Eagle II’s descent
stage, our Moon base.
The comparison to an efficiency
apartment’s fold down bed was the best description of the
deployment process.
Mohammed
it “Rescue
reserve the
result in our
performed the “comm-check” with the rover naming
One”, as an omen of its successful mission. We’d
name “Lifeboat One” for the craft we hoped would
ultimate return to Earth.
As the rover departed, Sid radioed a departing message,
“Mohammed, check the trail we are making with Rescue One’s
aluminum-mesh tires. Is it distinct enough to guide us back to
Eagle II?”
The three of us affirmed that fact. Sid and Valerie would have a
sure “bird-seed-like” path to mark their way back to us.
As
Rescue One’s four wheel drive propelled the vehicle over the
gentle rise beyond Armstrong’s Eagle, we heard Valerie’s voice,
“Godspeed crew of Eagle II. Thought I’d copy those words that
you Americans spoke over John Glenn. They worked well for
your program. Hope the same result is in store for Sid, me, and
Rescue One.”
Most would have taken such an off-hand remark as happenstance,
unless, they understood the significant of that term Godspeed. It
had become the trademark for most NASA launches, spoken by
atheist, agnostic, and Christian. But each time I heard it voiced
reminded me that, indeed, it was a pronouncement from on high,
to the very throne of God, the Father.
I’d researched its meaning in a word book examining the origin
of such terms. Actually, the term was a Christian prayer derived
from the Scripture III John 2 – “That God prosper you and keep
you in good health, and, likewise, strengthen and prosper your
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soul as well.” The term was first spoken as “God sped you on
your way.”
The Pilgrims had named their sister ship the
Speedwell which was a like-derivation of III John 2, i.e., that
God speed you well to your destination.
Somehow, non-believers were not offended by its use, even
though I’m sure they knew it to be a prayer. And that’s why I
suddenly felt an inner glow of encouragement, not only for
Rescue One’s success, but also for the conversion of Valerie and
the others. The thought followed that “if one confesses the Lord
Jesus with the mouth, and believes in the heart…that one will be
saved.” Valerie had confessed a New Testament promise with
her mouth, but did she believe in her heart? I wondered.
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Spacecraft Forensics
“Mary…Justin, the probe’s rendezvous is about to happen! I’ve
got a video link transmitting from Houston.” Again, I was
reminded we could only watch, not respond. Our outgoing
transmissions had been inhibited three days ago.
Mohammed continued, “They’re letting us view the same video
shown on the flight controllers’ monitors. I can’t imagine why.
Maybe, it some kind of sadistic thing, wanting us to know just
how they managed to end our hopes, before suffocating us.”
The probe’s navigation system aimed the camera’s view into the
six foot diameter wound in the lower equipment bay of the ERV.
The vehicle was much like the shuttle crew station, i.e., with two
decks. The upper for operating the craft, the lower for crew
eating, sleeping, and experimentation in route to the Moon. A
tunnel axially cored its way through both ERV decks, out the
ERV nose hatch into the ascent stage of Eagle II’s lander.
Apollo had been the learning curve for the design. The only
changes had been the addition of the ERV second deck and the
enlarged lander’s descent stage becoming a Moon base module.
Nothing about the design was remarkable. I’d seen a dozen like
it proposed by major aerospace contractors, back in the 1970s.
Obviously, the source of the explosion was not a meteor. The
outer skin of the ERV’s lower deck was punctured outward, not
inward. Since the video transmission was displayed on the topsecret channel, it was obvious the scene was not being displayed
beyond mission control. Only a select few would know of its
content.
Mohammed activated the digital video recorder.
If we were
planning later investigation, a playable copy would be essential.
What was unusual about the video was the manner the operator
used to direct the camera system.
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Rather than examining the damage to the lower deck, the probe
ascended directly through the tunnel into the upper deck control
station. Directly, in front of the ERV display panel, the Earth
operator activated the lens zoom. The scene slowly scanned the
entire complement of switches as though someone was intent on
recording the position of every switch.
I recalled my work on Apollo’s display panels. I’d been the
switch project engineer. It was my first assignment following
graduation from Rice University in Houston. I’d not been happy
with it. “ An electrical engineer should be pursuing more heady
endeavors than switches.”
But I’d resigned my fate to do the job expertly, assuring those
switches always worked. In fact, we had actuated a test switch
50,000 times without failure. Later, the movie Apollo 13 had a
documentary video of the Apollo One fire.
The clip reviewed
the incident and had one of the crew members actuating one of
my switches. At once, the switch burst into flame. Hollywood
had taken the liberty of making me responsible for the loss of
Gus Grissom and crew.
For years, whenever I gave talks about the rescue, I’d inform
audiences that IT DIDN”T HAPPEN THAT WAY. It wasn’t my
fault. Nevertheless, I knew a switch in the wrong position, by
accident or intent, might be fatal.
If the ERV switches were being investigated, likely, the
explosive device in its lower deck wasn’t actuated there. One of
those panel switches had set the event in motion. If so, who had
actuated that switch, and which one was it? It could have been
any of us. All had access to the displays and controls. One
thing was certain.
Those in mission control were very much
aware which switch it was and which one of us had actuated it.
“But why did everyone of my four crewmates appear altogether
sincere about being rescued, if it had been one of them?”
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“Perhaps, that person was being supportive in case a means of
escape was discovered.
Then, he or she could sabotage our
efforts in the same way the ERV had been disabled.”
I’d do my own investigation. Isolated in the confines of the crew
cubicle, my findings would not be known to the guilty
perpetrator.
For that reason, I took note of the file name
assigned the ERV surveillance video. Later, I could access it
privately from my digital assistant. But the blaring sound from
the console speaker ended the thought:
EAGLE II, THIS IS RESCUE I…DO YOU READ?
THERE’S A PROBLEM.
Sid and Valerie had been gone only two hours. Their
expected distance from our base could not have been more than
ten miles. What was the problem so soon?
Mohammed acknowledged their message. It was a
request.
“We need you to be thinking about helping us back to the
Eagle II. We have been trekking northwest using the dead
reckoning lunar surface navigator.”
I remembered the technique from a study I’d done for
educational outreach. Columbus had dead reckoned his path west
by estimating his speed by throwing a log attached to a rope
overboard.
Using a sandglass timer, he’d counted the knots dragged
sternward for a given time interval. Each knot was tied at an
equidistance along the rope. Employing his compass heading
along with the speed for a prescribed duration of time, he’d
sketched a map in his log book. The map would trace his return
to the Old World of Europe.
Sid and Valerie had adapted this “dead-reckoning” medieval
approach to lunar surface navigation. The rover had an odometer
as well as a gyro orientation system. Prior to their departure,
they had sketched a map to the Apollo 16 landing site. The dead
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reckoning process was certain to lead them there. Each time
they altered the rover’s heading an entry was made in their log
with respect to the destination. The resulting map was one of
segmented lines of alternate lengths based on encountering
obstacles. After several hours, the sketch took the form of one
of those idle line doodles school children pass the time in class
drawing. Their transmission continued:
“This is going to take at least twice the time we estimated. No
one told us about the problem of unseen small craters. It’s like
driving a car into a highway sink hole. Well, maybe that’s an
exaggeration, but even with both of us watching the surface
directly ahead, the drop off of a crater’s edge can’t be seen until
we’ve slid into the depression. So far we’d encountered a half
dozen. Each time we’ve had to dismount and push the rover
back onto level regolith.
In order to avoid the problem, one of us is walking ahead of the
rover directing the driver’s path. The fastest pace we can make
in space suits is no more than three miles per hour, but that
doesn’t include the number of detours taken. Fortunately, we
took this approach before we came to a fairly giant drop off. It
would have ended our journey in more ways than one. Like a
Grand Canyon tourist stepping off a trail inappropriately, our
lunar vacation would be over.”
“The bottom line is: Don’t expect our Rescue I to reach the
Apollo 16 rover for at least two days, if then. But the return trip
should be quicker, since the path will have been plotted getting
there. We’ll follow our dead-reckoning map back. Besides
there’s Rescue One’s tread-marks to follow. That’s going to be
quicker than our map.”
At the conclusion of Sid and Valerie’s report, I spoke to
Mohammed and Mary, “I’m going to get some rest in my
cubicle.”
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Actually, it was going to be the kind of rest Christ spoke of in I
Peter 5:7. A rest from worry and concern. “Cast your care on
me for I care for you,” was how the Bible spoke of the rest I was
looking for. It was altogether unthinkable that the five of us had
encountered these circumstances. There was something more
puzzling than who among us had acted to explode the ERV.
More worrisome was why? That’s what I wanted to ask God
about in a cubicle quiet time. Somehow, I knew He would reveal
the answer.
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2030 – The State of the World
The Presidential elections had been held more than two years
ago, this past November. For the past three terms, a liberal oneworld candidate had been victorious. In fact, in 2024, the name
of the most popular political party had finally been changed. To
personify the theme of international unity among nations,
languages, and cultures, it was now known as the One World
Party. The One-Worlders had like-political affiliates in all the
major world powers. Only the third world nations of allied but
impoverished countries opposed their collective international
influence. NANA as the proletarian alliance was known refused
to pay obeisance to the One-Worlders. Nevertheless, the
Consortium of Five major powers, known as the Consortium,
ruled supreme.
Years ago, I’d tried to correlate the Consortium nations with
those alluded to in Bible prophesy. I found nothing suggesting
an eschatological link and shelved the topic. Rather, I looked for
signs that the end-times conflict spoken of as that GREAT DAY
OF THE LORD, the last battle among men, was imminent. Most
among Bible End Times scholars had discarded an imminent
return of Christ. It had become a sci-fi type topic. The books of
Revelation and Daniel had served as themes for an internet
streaming video serial. The weekly fictional episodes featured a
Luke Skywalker-like protagonist, predictably co-starring with his
personal robotic assistant, Tabor.
Despite the demise of both newspapers and movie theaters, their
replacements: data-tablets and virtual reality rooms offered
exactly the same kinds of content.
Only the technological
delivery systems had been upgraded. There was no “beam-meup-Scotty” molecular transporter. However,
cloning of
molecules on a subatomic scale was proving promising.
In my mind, most appalling were the soul and spirit scientists
whose research into the biology of death was akin to Hitler’s
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heinous World War II experimentation. The premise was that the
spirit of man was nothing more than a wave akin to an x-ray,
magnetism, and other transmitted medium.
Like the bogus
theory of evolution, the wave theory of the spirit had similar
origins. This spiritual wave theory was based on an accidental
outcome resulting from billions of years of electromagnetic
randomness. The idly propagating waves journeyed throughout
the cosmos one day synthesizing into a human’s body. The
ultimate master over the process was speculated as non-other
than Jesus Christ, whose acumen with wave-spirit generation
enabled his so-called (as they stated) resurrection from the dead.
Like Darwin’s evolution, no proof existed other than empirical
evidence which matched the theory about one-tenth as well as
the Bible’s explanation of the spirit, soul, and body of man as a
triune being. A magnitude more evidence existed for the truth of
man in the image of God, the Father, the Son, and the Holy
Ghost. But it satisfied the atheist and agnostic such that large
sums had been donated for research into the theory of the spiritwave genesis of man. But such thoughts wouldn’t help rescue us.
I must think about the reasons or reason for our dilemma…
I thought about historic events which had begun World Wars.
Among them was the Cuban Missile crises in October of 1962.
No, it didn’t result in world wide atomic warfare. Yet, it was so
precarious that it might have. The combatants resembled NANA
and the Consortium.
Soviet Russia, Communist China, the iron
curtain countries and affiliates like Cuba and North Korea faced
off against the United States and its free world allies. What
stood out about the conflict was how easily the fuse might have
been ignited.
Among the Earth’s four billion inhabitants, two
had the power to light the fire, President John F. Kennedy and
Nikita Khrushchev.
Similarly, a twosome existed with like power among NANA and
Consortium politicians, Salik Akema and President William
Conders. But it was Akema who was most dangerous. His
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nefarious dealings in drug trafficking, WMD development and
atomic bomb stockpiling threatened civilization. His black
market dealings with former Soviet allies led to his exalted role.
Yes, he was a potentate considerably more sinister and all
powerful than any former Chairman of the U.S.S.R during the
Cold War of the 1960s.
Though America’s role among the Consortium was much
weakened as a result of the ONE WORLDER international party,
President William Conders of the United States served, like
Kennedy had in the past, as leader of the Consortium allies.
There was no doubt that at least these two leaders were well
aware of our situation, having either ordered it or inadvertently
caused it. But how?
One thing was certain. If we were successful in communicating
with Earth, that we were alive not dead, and if we succeeded in
revealing the scheme to kill us, then either or both of these men
would have no choice but to rescue us. International rage among
Earth’s citizens would demand such.
Failing to do so could
topple each man from his exalted role in world leadership.
It wasn’t really important knowing why we had been sentenced to
an unjust death. We could discover that later. For now, we
simply had to find a way of broadcasting our situation to Earth.
87
Divine Revelation
“Dear Lord, I’ll take you at your WORD.” That clique was often
spoken over deals made with investment associates in route to a
ten billion dollar portfolio.
But God’s WORD could be taken
literally. For now though, the WORD coming to mind was a
single verse memorized in the first year of my walk with Christ.
It was a verse from Romans, the 26th of Chapter 8. Actually, it
was only parts of the verse which sounded in my mind that
“…the (Holy) Spirit helpeth our (my) infirmities…that he maketh
intercession for us when we know not how to pray.” In this
moment, my interpretation was: I’m in an infirm situation
knowing not why or how, but the Holy Spirit knows what to pray
for my understanding.
His prayer is the perfect intercession
exceedingly above anything I might pray for myself and my
comrades.
That is why I voiced my request, “Show me Lord the reason
we’ve been space-ship-wrecked. Why are we two hundred and
forty thousand miles in the ocean of space, awash on a distant
celestial shore, the Earth’s Moon?”
Silencing my mind to all thoughts, I hoped the promised “stillsmall-voice” would utter what some Bible students called a
“word of wisdom”, i.e., specific instruction about our
circumstance, some kind of divine revelation.
When the veil lifted from the abyss of my mind, an image flashed
in my thoughts. It was a subliminal picture of the meeting I’d
had after receiving word my billion dollar offer had been
accepted. Then, as well as now, something about the meeting
discussion was troubling. It had to do with the transfer of funds
to the account set aside for Eagle II’s Return to Tranquility
Mission. Of course none of my colleagues had been present. I
was told the content was to remain confidential.
88
There was definitely a spirit of intrigue among the negotiators.
The topic was how I proposed paying my share of the mission
cost. They insisted on some sort of guarantee from me for my
debt. Because I needed to liquidate several non-cash financial
holdings, they expressed concern for my safe return to Earth. My
involvement was essential for sale of a hundred million dollar
mining emporium as well as real estate interests of considerable
value.
Without me, likely, the sales could not go forward. With me
negotiating the transactions, the mission bankers were assured of
the best possible price. This meant the lunar voyage must return
me healthy and whole to planet Earth. While most viewed this
outcome as extremely probable, odds for my survival were five
hundred to one. The estimate was based on post ChallengerColumbia reliability studies. These had debunked NASA’s earlier
overly optimistic and manipulated Failure Mode Effects Analysis
(FMEA) assessments. When spacecraft systems as well as
software glitches were combined, the odds had become more
dire.
However, the unhappy prospect of my demise, though unlikely,
could very well result in a domino-like collapse of the
Consortium aerospace industry. Such would be extremely
ominous. With the ever present prospect of NANA’s MASADA
threat, a Cold War type stand-off had arisen. The politicalmilitant adversaries had fashioned a deterrent akin to the
communist versus democracy East-West contest of the past
century. Once more the threat of Armageddon was very real.
There was an overwhelming number of missiles protecting
Consortium nations. These Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles
(ICBM) targeted NANA’s suicidal Masada A-Bomb bunkers.
The bunkers purposed to destroy all human and animal life within
the nations of NANA’s third world alliance. Such destruction not
only would end life for NANA’s citizenry. A like end would
follow for the Consortium’s peoples.
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Atomic fallout was a deadly contagion, a creeping cancer,
transmitted via weather patterns. Clouds, winds, and cyclonic
atmospheric phenomena would serve as NANA’s posthumous
warriors. Poisonous air, ingested by every person and creature on
the planet, was a certainty. Water from infected rivers, streams,
lakes and oceans would become a “witches brew” bringing a
protracted death to all. No escape was possible.
Essentially, this insured NANA’s invincibility as fully as
America’s and the Soviet Union’s missiles had thwarted either
side’s victory in the Cold War of the latter half of the past
century. But what tilted the table of survival slightly in the
Consortium’s favor was a “preemptive strike” on the hundreds of
NANA A-bomb bunkers. Destroying these harbingers of death
prior to their activation was mandatory. The robust numbers,
precision, and kinds of missile systems employed by the
Consortium were well able to deliver that preemption as long as
THE AEROSPACE COMPANIES WERE FUNDED TO
PRESERVE THE DETERENT.
Without interruption, financial resources were poured into
research labs, round-the-clock surveillance monitoring as well as
onsite twenty-four hour manning of subterranean missile
launching stations. This preemptive force was an array of a
thousand points of death focused on NANA’s death-bomb sites
planted randomly about planet Earth.
Because NANA’s weapons needed little maintenance, manpower,
or upgrading, the general poverty of its member nations, like that
of terrorist sects, was not a handicap. For the Consortium to
defend itself, a thousand times more resources in manpower,
weapon systems, and technological advancement was essential.
As a result, my role in Eagle II’s mission, as a billion dollar
benefactor, required a unique stipulation: A LIFE INSURANCE
POLICY.
Both heads of state, the Prime Minister of NANA and the exofficio ruler of the Consortium, the President of the United
90
States, ordained the issuance of the policy. Each abhorred the
thought of tilting the delicate balance required to avoid
Armageddon.
The insurance policy, therefore, was underwritten by both
parties, i.e., by NANA as well as the international banking arm
of the Consortium. And that was what troubled me greatly. In
summary, the fulfillment of our present fate, i.e., death, was
supposed to richly reward both entities, the Consortium with
TEN TIMES the sum I’d promised to pay and NANA with a sum
half that. NANA was thought to be included as a beneficiary for
its pledge not to use my demise to advantage based on the
MASADA standoff. In effect, this was a type of bribe to allow
the Consortium’s Military Industrial Complex time to recover the
five billion dollar cost of the failed mission.
Indeed, both
NANA and the Consortium would richly profit from our deaths,
especially my demise But certainly that was not cause enough
for our situation. It had to be something more nefarious.
That something suddenly came to mind, a recollection of the final
signing. The representatives of the two foremost world leaders
had handed me a pen. I looked down to read the document’s
final stipulation:
“All parties present shall not by any means disclose the terms,
conditions, subject, and content of this, THE INDEMNITY
POLICY FOR THE MISSION OF EAGLE II AND ITS
BENEFACTOR, UNTIL THE SUCCESSFUL RETURN OF
SAID BENEFACTOR TO PLANET EARTH.”
____________________________
Benefactor and Insured
_____________________________
Beneficiary, President of the U.S.A
____________________________
Beneficiary, Prime Minister NANA
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That’s it!
The document was secret. Only the legal signers
would benefit, Akema and Conders, not NANA or the
Consortium. They could, of course, delegate a sum adequate for
the rescue, but remaining funds would become theirs alone.
Our sentence of lunar death was an obvious plot undertaken by
NANA’s Prime Minister and America’s President for their
personal profit at our demise, the crew of Eagle II. Obviously, if
we were successful in communicating with Earth, both men’s
deeds would be revealed, and, likely, we could expect to be
rescued.
Perhaps, most gratifying about this God-given revelation, known
only to me, was that none of my crewmates, were responsible for
the destruction of the Earth Return Vehicle.
Somehow, the small group of conspirators allied with NANA’s
Prime Minister and America’s President arranged the events
which had come to pass.
Should I explain the discovery? That same quiet voice answered,
“Yes, but not immediately. I’ll tell you when.”
When I asked, “Why Lord?” No answer came. He would make
known the circumstance and timing of my disclosure to my
comrades.
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The Rovernauts Journey Southwestward
Since the last radio contact with Eagle II, the rover’s progress
had improved. Speed over the lunar regolith was approaching ten
miles per hour. Unfortunately, this led to a gyrating, wobbling
ride comparable to trail biking. Seated firmly side-by-side, both
Valerie and Sid had snugly latched their seat belts. No lawman
need remind the pair of the importance of a belted ride.
Suddenly, the terrain was no longer pock marked with shallow
pit-like mini-craters.
Instead, the plain-like lunar prairie reminded Sid of cruising west
over the expanse of mid-western farm country. Likely, the
Apollo 16 landing site was less than a day away at this rate.
There were now few obstacles with the lunar firmament stretched
beyond the horizon. It was a case for Star Trek’s slogan of going
where no man had set foot before. Indeed, no man would set
foot. Only distinct tread marks of the rover’s tires defaced the
tranquil silicon-like granules of “Moon-soil.”
Valerie’s log entries had been absent for several hours. No
change in direction or speed had called for a notation. The
rover’s quad motors labored in unison like a four horse chariot
team. Each wheel was pulling its portion of the load
synchronized by a unique gear box superior to any Detroit
automotive engineer’s innovation.
It was this magical component whose operating temperature ever
so slightly rose above recommended level. Sid was first to note
the elevated transmission temperature. This gradual overheating
should not have surprised the riders. The Eagle II Rover was
never intended for so laborious a journey from Eagle II’s base, in
the shadow of Neil Armstrong’s Eagle’s descent stage.
Had the mission gone as planned, sorties of no more than 30
miles would have been undertaken from Tranquility Base. This
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meant a total to and fro distance, with side trips, of no more than
100 miles per rover EVA.
This trip of more than 190 miles each way far exceeded anything
planned by the rover’s designers.
Nevertheless, computer
simulations had confirmed such was possible.
Apollo’s
maximum rover excursion had been less than ten miles from the
lander. The lengthiest Apollo excursion in time had been Apollo
17’s four and one half hour trek. This would have amounted to a
forty mile journey at the rover’s top speed of ten miles per hour.
However, because of Eagle II’s rover power upgrade much
greater range was possible. Sid and Valerie’s rover had a
magnitude more battery power as well as supplemental fuel cells
and solar panels to recharge depleted batteries. Actually, using
oxygen, power, and water generated by the rover’s fuel cells,
astronauts might travel hundreds of miles without returning to
home base. As long as those fuel cells functioned properly, Sid
and Valerie could survive for weeks in the rover. But all the gas
in the local service station’s tanks avails little if the family sedan
experiences transmission failure.
Such failure was exactly what the two faced. The extended use
of the rover as a cross country vehicle for transportation rather
than exploration stressed the motors and gears excessively.
There was no recourse but to rest the vehicle for cool down every
few hours.
Sid’s rover training had familiarized him with the three Apollo
rover missions, Apollo 15, 16, and 17. Only the first rover
mission, Apollo 15, resembled what this rover now faced. When
the Apollo 15 rover’s front wheel steering failed, the rear system
had to guide the vehicle. Because the Moon car had both front
and rear steering, performance, though impaired, was not
catastrophic. Unfortunately, Eagle II’s rover designers had not
made the individual wheel motors wholly independent.
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While it was true that locomotion could proceed with only a
single wheel’s motor torque, the transmission designed for that
purpose became a single point of failure…so the need for the
cool down.
Apollo rover odometers recorded less than forty miles per EVA.
Valerie and Sid would run up a reading exceeding 400 miles
should they survive the trip.
But more ominous was the
experience of the rover-less Apollo 14 astronauts in using their
lunar surface maps. The best of those maps had not been able to
predict the extent or location of potential disaster from crater-like
pits.
Sid’s careful study of those Moon walks was revealing. The
recorded words of Armstrong, Aldrin, Conrad, Bean, Shepard,
and Mitchell on Apollo 11, 12, and 14 shed light on what Sid and
Valerie faced. Though those explorers had not the luxury of a
Moon rover, their experience said much about the peril.
Most troubling was the account of Shepard and Mitchell’s on
Apollo 14. They had set out on foot to find a well-mapped lunar
crater named Cone. Though the crater was of modest elevation
from Apollo 14’s landing site, the climb challenged the twosome
as much as a trek up Everest. Exhaustion set in and insufficient
oxygen reserves required the search be aborted.
Though they had nearly reached Cone Crater, they failed to
accurately judge their position using existing Moon maps. As a
result, they aborted their walking trip prematurely. Such was the
danger to Sid and Valerie, the peril of being lost, driving a rover
where no rover had rolled its wheels before.
Perhaps, the uncertainty of exactly where Eagle II’s rover was
with respect to both Apollo 16’s abandoned rover and the Eagle
II base would prove fatal to Sid and Valerie. That sad event
might happen long before the remaining three crew members,
Lewis, Mohammed, and Mary, succumbed at the Tranquility
base camp, scores of miles to the northeast. Those Apollo rovers
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had navigation systems wholly capable of way-finding the
modest return distances to the lunar landers. Unfortunately, no
such digital navigation map had been included in Eagle II’s
vehicle. Exploration had been planned for no more than a fifty
mile radius from the landing site.
Additionally, the
communication link to the Earth-Moon navigation satellite had
the same blocked carrier frequency which mission control had
silenced. Not only was Eagle II left behind on the Moon so
would be her rover.
Should the dead-reckoning return fail, cosmic rays would bleach
Sid and Valerie’s bodies and bones beyond recognition in eons
to come. As always, in the unforgiving environs of Moon dust,
failure is never an option. It is fatal.
Early unmanned Moon probes of the 1960s confirmed the
Moon’s young age. It was the three legged Surveyor landing
which told the story. Evolutionists had argued for a multi-million
year age for the Moon. Their prediction was a twelve foot deep
dust layer covering the lunar regolith. Such a lake of dust would
surely swallow Neil Armstrong’s Eagle.
For that very reason, Armstrong’s four legged lander was named
the LEM, or Lunar Excursion Module. Its design included
“excursion” capability for skirting past two story dust deposits
searching for a clean landing on “luna-firma.”
However, Surveyor’s mission confirmed the fallacy of needing
the “e” word in the lander’s name. More importantly, than the
name change from LEM to LM was the finding of, at most, a thin
inches thick layer of Moon dust. Based on the known average
annual “flux” of dust striking the Moon proved the Moon’s age to
be in thousands rather than millions of years. Yes, at best, the
flecks of silicon-like granules amounted to a “sand-pile” only a
few inches thick.
None the less, these particles posed hardship for Sid and Valerie.
The rover’s wheels churned the fine powder continually. This
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resulted in a film of the stuff covering not only the rover’s
exterior but also Sid and Valerie’s space suits. The talc-like
epidermal suit deposits gave the twosome a gray hue akin to
aboriginal paintings found in caves of Australian backlands.
Nevertheless, respectable progress had succeeded in transporting
the coed duo within ten miles of Duke and Young’s Apollo 16
LRV. The entire journey had taken less than thirty-six hours
including rest times for both the astronauts and the rover’s
transmission.
Sid broadcast the welcome report to Eagle II that Apollo 16’s
lander, its descent stage, was actually in view. Because Sid’s
view was from an upland elevation looking downward, the
remnant of Apollo 16 was viewable. Knowing the Apollo rover
near, Sid thought about its design compared to the updated
version he and Valerie road. Though built nearly sixty years
before, that first rover was much like the present vehicle. Except
for the sync-gear-box, the fuel cells, and, of course, a vastly
enhanced use of digital electronics and controls, not much was
different. In fact, an Apollo astronaut might have mistaken the
Eagle II rover for the LRV.
Ever since those first manned Moon landings, artists and sci-fi
enthusiasts had speculated about the design of futuristic Moon
bases, and, of course, their exploration rovers.
This led to
speculative designs with grandiose rover cabins, rooms for
laboratory experiments, and robotic excavation tools protruding
from the body of the vehicle. Despite these dreams of future
Moon rover refinements, Eagle II’s vehicle retained the openframed, four fender concept of the LRV. NASA cited the savings
attendant to “been there done that”, and it worked fine. This was
a cost saving, i.e., a replication technology. There was no
significant upgrade to the Moon car.
So it should not have been surprising that Astronaut LaRue fell
prey to exactly the same circumstance which befell Apollo 16’s
“Moon-rovers”, Duke and Young. In fact, perhaps, it was the
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same hidden crater that damaged Duke and Young’s vehicle in
1971. The source of the mishap could be attributed to the slightly
narrower wheelbase and extended length of Eagle II’s rover
compared to the LRV. This resulted in not only loss of control,
denting a front fender, but also a slow wobbling roll-over similar
to one encountered by an SUV turning too sharply.
Were it not for the Moon’s one sixth gravitational force
compared to Earth’s, Valerie’s spacesuit surely would have
ruptured like a child’s balloon blown-up to bursting pressure.
But Rover II’s fate was not so fortunate. The rear left drive
wheel was now unnaturally attached to its axle in sort of a kinked
up-folded orientation.
The damage obviously defied any
possibility of rolling in tandem with the remaining three
undamaged wheels.
Additionally, the mesh-like toroid shaped wheel exhibited a
flattened outer rim. The deformed section extended at least 90
degrees about the wheel’s 360 degree circumference. The dark
thoughts which affected Sid and Valerie brought forth audible
groans within each of their helmets. Even though Apollo 16’s
LRV was now in sight with its potential radio voice to Earth,
Eagle II’s rover was impaired extensively. It must be abandoned
for a foot trek across the remaining miles.
Sid and Valerie communicated via their helmets’ “walkie-talkie”
short range communication audio link.
Valerie spoke first, “Sid, what are we going to do? Without
Rover II, we can’t hope to resurrect the LRV’s communication
system. Worst of all, walking, we can never hope to return to
Eagle II in our suits. The oxygen reserves are altogether too
limited without the Rover. Oxygen produced by the fuel cells
made this journey possible.”
But Sid, a resourceful Marine, saw the dilemma as an opportunity
rather than a perilous circumstance.
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At once, he responded, ”Valerie, we’ve only lost one wheel.
Even Apollo 15’s crew overcame a worst fate. They performed
the rover’s mission having lost two of the four.”
As he spoke, Sid knelt down to closely examine the damage.
Yes, the wheel was useless, but its fender was remarkably in tact
and untouched.
“This is an easy one Val. I’ll lift the chassis by gripping the axle
of the damaged wheel. You take hold of the front left axle.’
Lifting together the pair returned the rover to its upright
orientation, though it rested on three points of support with the
damaged wheel folded awkwardly under its undamaged fender.
“Prior to joining the Marines, I worked in my father’s service
station. My specialty was servicing and aligning automobile
suspension systems.”
As he explained, Valerie watched in amazement as Sid unstowed
Rover II’s contingency tool repair module, drew forth a ratchet,
selected the appropriate hex head socket, and in a brief moment
had detached the impaired wheel’s fender. Next, he rotated the
wheel so that the undamaged portion of its rim rested on lunar
regolith. Lastly, Sid lifted the left rear axle so that he was able
to rest the wheel’s rim snugly into the concave fender’s inner
surface. The wheel and fender were constrained so that neither
moved nor rotated. After removing the axle attachment from the
wheel, the design mod was complete.
Eagle II’s rover had became a partial Moon-ski-mobile with
three good wheels and a ski for the damaged left rear. Once
more, the rover rested firmly with four points of support, three
wheels and a ski. Locomotion was unimpaired. In fact, due to
the slick nature of the Moon dust, the vehicle used less
locomotion energy than before the mishap.
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“Really,” joked Sid, “I always thought snow-boarding more
exciting than skiing anyway.
We’ve got three wheels and a
snow board to get us home.”
Once more the roving astronauts took their seats. Sid grabbed
the vertical T-bar throttle control mounted between the seats and
pushed it ever so gently forward. The vehicle immediately
moved toward its destination, its grandfather, the Apollo LRV.
Unexpectedly, a phrase sounded from Valerie’s lips. Sound
doesn’t propagate without vibrating air molecules
as its
transmitting medium. Those who enjoy episodes of Star Trek
might not agree, hearing the loud rapport of interstellar battles
exterior to the Enterprise’s hull. Valerie’s exclamation was
therefore unheard by Sid.
“PRAISE THE LORD!”
In
Valerie’s mind, something about what she had just seen Sid do
was extraterrestrial, even more than beyond Earth’s bounds. This
thing was some kind of supernatural wisdom from above, much
higher than the Moon. It had to come from the very throne of
God!
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The Voice From Above
The call came from the southwest, 183 miles distant.
“Eagle II, this is the rover. We have arrived!”
Mohammed had kept the cubicle speakers enabled so that all
would have immediate word from Sid and Valerie when it came.
At once, the three of us aboard Eagle II had assembled in the
state room.
Mary and Mohammed listened while I asked, “And what have
you found?”
“…the LRV is in pristine condition…just as Young and Duke left
it sixty years ago,” was Astronaut LaRue’s answer.
“In fact, the Apollo rover’s hi-gain directional antenna still
pointed Earthward, ready to be revived for voice transmission.
We just need to jumper power from our rover to bring it to life
again.
Even our communication audio jack from our
communication panel is compatible. Thank God, they didn’t
reinvent the wheel for our vehicle.”
But the greatest wonder was the discovery that the Apollo
rover’s audio transmission frequency was now identical to the
global positioning satellites’ audio transponders. No longer was
the frequency reserved for talking to mission control. It had been
re-assigned for voice communication between GPS station
operators.
This meant there would be no way for Mission Control to block
our call for help. To do so would disable audio transmissions
essential to coordinating the GPS network around the planet.
The GPS had become so essential to navigation on land, air,
space, and sea that such an interruption would wreck havoc
internationally, likely resulting in destruction and death.
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No one had returned to the Moon since the 1972 visit of Apollo
17. Since Astronaut Gene Cernan’s last transmission from the
rover’s audio system, that audio frequency had been given to the
GPS.
Of course, there would be conspiracy theorists insisting our call
for help was actually an alien Moon-lander. We were really
extraterrestrial beings visiting the defunct Apollo 16 rover and
reactivating its transmitter. Most would ignore that ridiculous
theory. Indeed, there would be no question that the message was
our SOS from the Moon, a wake-up call that Eagle II’s crew had
survived. No UFO was responsible. We needed help.
Sid made a suggestion, “We should carefully choose our words
so that they fully explain our situation. There must be no doubt
about the evil act perpetrated on us and our mission.”
Now was the moment for me to reveal what God had explained
about the source of our situation…the insurance policy. I began:
“I need all of you to listen carefully to what I have to say before
we draft our statement for broadcast to Earth. I’m certain I know
why we have been sentenced to death on the Moon.”
I was
about to explain when the same quiet voice spoke inwardly,
“Explain how I revealed the mystery to you…it’s important for all
to understand that I care for all of you and am working in your
behalf.”
Knowing I had everyone’s highest level of attention, I began the
explanation from the Lord’s perspective rather than my own. It
would be easy to credit myself with the revelation but that would
be selfish and dishonest. Besides, if God was going to continue
to speak to me and us, He would appreciate being credited with
the advice He gave.
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“Listen carefully, because I am certain I discovered this as a
result of what I’m about to share.”
No sound came from any of my four crewmates. All were
devoted to hearing my explanation in it entirety. I recalled the
words of the Apostle Paul in the presence of King Agrippa. His
were convincing statements of the truth of Christ’s dealing in the
present, designed to convince the King of God’s plans and
purposes for mankind.
Hopefully, my recounting would be more successful than his.
Agrippa had concluded, “Thou almost persuadeth me to be a
Christian. “ My purpose, like the Biblical Paul’s, was to fully
persuade these four to become believers in Christ. What I would
share must be reasonable but sure evidence of the supernatural
work of Christ’s Holy Spirit. He was the messenger who had
revealed the evil work of those heads of state, the President of
the Consortium and NANA’s Prime Minister, both denizens of
Satan’s plans and purposes. Christ the Lord had deemed such
sinister work as lies, destruction and killing. These men, as the
Devil’s agents, had lied with the intent of destroying our
mission and killing us.
“Please don’t interrupt my explanation until I’m finished. Then,
I’ll gladly answer any of your question fully and honestly.” I
began…
“I know each of you are aware that my presence as a crewmate
resulted from a billion dollar contribution needed to fund the
endeavor. More importantly, and what you might not know or
understand is what motivated me at age 89 to want to be included
as a member of your team. Going back to the Moon with you has
most to do with my desire to be a person of faith, i.e., my life on
Earth is obviously in its twilight time. And I want it to conclude
with purpose beyond what fortune I have accumulated.
The mission had a multifold purpose: unifying of the Earth’s
political forces as well as allying ecumenical institutions. Clerics
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of all faiths found the latter goal useful. For that reason, I found
favor as an ambassador for the Christian faith, especially based
on my rather large offering. (All chuckled at the remark. No
Sunday morning collection plate had ever had a billion dollars
dropped in the pledge envelope.)
Though not seen as a zealot, i.e., a fanatical proponent, my
resolve has been deep-seated and long standing, beginning more
than three score years in the past. (Were they listening? I hoped
I wasn’t boring them as I prayed that the Lord soften their hearts
to my explanation. I continued.) Most view the Christian faith as
adherence to the tenets of Christ’s examples and teaching. Such
was my view as well in the early years of attending church,
Sunday school, and confirmation studies.
Likely, those of you
have experienced the same. Think of it Mary, Sid, Valerie and
you Mohammed in your studies of the Islam faith, its tenets and
admiration of Mohammed. The same I’m certain is true of most
others who devote their religious life to their embraced belief
systems. There are tenants, commandments good to follow and
devoted men and women to model one’s life after. So it was
with me.
There is a historic person who wrote much about the Christian
faith. His early life, like mine, followed the pattern I’ve just
explained. He, too, attended church though his was a Jewish
Temple. Likewise, he studied Scripture diligently though it was
the Old Book of the Torah, the Old Testament of the Bible. And,
like me and others, he earnestly tried to fulfill the commandments
of God as I did the sayings of Jesus.
Please bear with me a moment more. What I’m sharing will be
helpful in understanding why we are stranded on the Moon.
Obviously, I believe what I’m explaining based on our situation.
What would be the point of fabricating a story under these
circumstances? How many times have felon’s made “death-bed”
confessions knowing that there is hope in the afterlife? So my
words deal with such life and death issues relating to our spirits,
souls, and bodies.
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The person I wanted you to consider briefly was a man named
Saul of Tarsus. Like each of us, he had an exceptional
intelligence, measured in I.Q. terms. In today’s world, he might
have been a brilliant attorney, an astute entrepreneur, or, even, an
astronaut. Among those of his time, the first century, he held the
respect of both political and religious leaders. Likewise, he was
well respected in the community of thinkers.
His special zeal was religion. He was uncompromising in this
sense such that he encouraged the persecution of those who
denied his faith, even unto death. In a sense he had the zeal of
present day Islamic terrorists, though he was an orthodox Jew.
His special hatred was for those who believed in Christ, i.e., the
Christians of the first century. He became an accessory to the
murder of the most devout among these adversaries, a man
named Stephen. Yet, when he observed others stone that
disciple, he admired the courageous way the man confessed his
faith in Christ, asking his Lord to forgive these whose ignorance
of the truth led them to commit this heinous act.
The instance relates to our bondage on the Moon. I know who
has willfully sought to “stone us” by stranding our ship at
Tranquility Base. Like Saul and his adherents, they relish this
selfish act, believing it best for them to indulge their greed. But
what is a sure witness of God’s love for us has to do with a
revelation. Scripture speaks of this as supernatural knowledge
apart from man’s inventions. With regard to Saul, it was an
audible voice from heaven as he journeyed forth in route to
murder other Christian believers.
But God intervened. Was it to spare other innocent believers, or
was it for Saul’s benefit? Saul’s company rode on horseback
toward Damascus when some kind of miraculous phenomena
manifested itself. Saul described it as a bright light from above
which so startled and weakened him that he collapsed onto the
ground, falling from his steed’s saddle. At the same moment, an
audible voice sounded from the direction of the light with the
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words, “Saul, this is Jesus who thou persecuteth. Why do you do
so?” Evidence of the incident did not soon leave Saul because he
had become blind.
Only after the blinded enemy of Christ obeyed the instructions of
that voice, did Saul receive his sight. So changed was Saul that
he chose a new name, Paul. He became a foremost disciple of
Jesus Christ, writing much of the New Testament of the Bible.
But what, I believe, convinced Saul of the truth of Scripture, as
well as the divinity of Christ was the supernatural manifestation
of his conversion.
That’s why I want to share how I’ve come to understand why we
have been sentenced to die here.”
(Now’s not the time to press for my friends to accept Christ as
their Lord and Savior. It’s time to reveal what the Lord’s Spirit
told me about the revelation of the insurance policy.)
I continued, “That same man, known as the Apostle Paul, wrote a
letter to one of the Christian churches founded in Rome during
the first century. In the letter, he admonished the believers to ask
Christ’s Holy Spirit for help with their infirmities. He suggested
that the Holy Spirit is supernatural and can actually pray for us
when we don’t know what we should be praying about or for.
That’s what I did several hours ago. Knowing we’re in about as
infirm a situation as can be imagined, 240,000 miles from Earth
without a spaceship for our return, I asked for the Holy Spirit to
reveal to me why we are here.
At once, a scene came into my mind which would be unknown to
all of you. It was a meeting requested by agents of the United
States President and the Prime Minister of NANA. Because of
the nature of my offer to fund a billion dollars of the cost of our
mission, I was asked to sign an insurance policy on my life. The
justification for the policy was to assure that the mission’s failure
did not upset the delicate balance between NANA and the
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Consortium. It was explained to me that our failure to return
would be especially threatening because I would not be able to
fulfill my funding promise.
Should the Consortium’s military complex be shorted those
funds, NANA would surely take advantage. Their threat would
be to ignite a MASADA attack on civilization. Without a robust
launching of Consortium missiles at the hundreds of Masada
bunkers, NANA’s destructive potential would outweigh the
Consortium’s deterrent forces. This would be akin to the Soviet
Union obtaining the upper hand during its Cold War standoff
with America. NANA would rule. At least that’s what the
agents argued would be the case.
For that reason, to preserve the Consortium’s financial funding of
its military industrial contractors after having spent so many
billions on a failed mission, an insurance policy was proposed.
At the time, this seemed altogether reasonable. The policy
required my signature since my funds would be insured as the
amount to be given the beneficiaries should I perish on the Moon.
Of course, I signed in good faith. But what I had failed to
understand until God gave me a revelation hours ago was the
signatures of the beneficiaries. Yes, I say signatures. A pair of
signers had lines for their signatures beneath mine.
God reminded me who these men were.
Beneath the blank
entries were the names and titles of the beneficiaries - THE
PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES and THE PRIME
MINISTER OF NANA. I am certain these two are responsible
for our death sentence. Each will reap a reward of billions of
dollars as a result of our deaths. Were it not for God revealing
the names of the signers and the nature of that policy and
meeting, there would be no way of knowing why such a situation
has been thrust upon us.
Should the policy have been honest and pure the beneficiary
would have been the United States Treasury, where we pay our
annual income tax. Certainly, no such policy should have had
two arch enemies as beneficiaries, unless, these two were in
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league to profit from our deaths. There is no doubt in my mind
that whatever we transmit via the LRV’s audio link should speak
directly to reveal the evil greedy conspiracy perpetrated by
America’s president and NANA’s prime minister.
More
importantly, we should ask the same God who revealed their evil
to help us craft the optimum words to correct the situation in a
way that will rescue us.
There was silence on the communication link between the five of
us. Valerie’s voice was first heard, “Could you pray to your God
for us? I mean could you ask him what we should say?”
“I
will, but better than that, I’d ask each of you to pray to Him as
well for the right words. He plays no favorites, but simply asks
us to invite His Son Jesus in our hearts.”
(I must be careful here, not to be overbearing.)
“But I’ve said enough for now. Let’s take a break and join up in
a few hours to compose our words before broadcasting them
Earthward. Sid and Valerie can charge the LRV in that time so
that it will be ready for the transmission.”
(I can’t help but remember that dream, of Paul, on the deck of
that ancient ship in orbit approaching the Moon. He had been
elevated from minion to master of the situation. It had to be a
prophesy of my new role. I was no longer simply a passenger,
the least of the five person crew. God was directing me, like
Paul, to witness for Him in a perilous situation, giving me
supernatural knowledge for our salvation. )
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The Message From the Moon
“So let’s get that Rover’s power system juiced up,” was Sid’s
comment to Valerie following the conference about the evil plans
of the Potentate of NANA and the United States head of state, the
President.
Then, Sid paused. He’d neglected to dine on his suit’s internal
cafeteria food stuffs since leaving Eagle II. Though he had often
gone to the helmet’s beverage spigot, no nutrient had been drawn
from the helmet’s mouth actuated nozzle.
Additionally, he needed to vent the urine pouch which suit
designers had masterfully designed into his extraterrestrial
garment. This, he did, somewhat clandestinely while Valerie
collected jumper cables from the kludge of electrical connectors,
wires, and components stowed beneath the mechanical tool kit.
Ambling some distance from the vacated descent stage of Apollo
16’s lander, Sid noticed a foreign object nestled in the lunar dust.
It had to be from Earth. The item was approximately three inches
in width and five inches in length. It lay a few inches from a
space boot foot print made nearly sixty years before. Somehow,
Sid guessed one of the Apollo 16 crew had purposely left the
artifact prior to his lift off for return to Earth.
Actually, the thing was some kind of plastic sleeve with a card or
piece of paper sandwiched between its translucent surfaces.
Kneeling down, Sid slid his gloved index finger under the item
and closed his thumb on top of it. For closer examination, he
carefully lifted it to his face plate.
“What was it?” Sid wondered. “A mini check-list for rover
operations, perhaps, a mathematical table assisting in LRV
navigation, or, maybe a map of lunar landmarks near the
touchdown site?”
109
His initial scrutiny failed to solve the mystery. However, by
shielding his eyes from the glare reflecting off the lander’s
golden foil covering, Sid could barely make out an image on the
card held firmly between the mylar surfaces.
“It’s a photograph!”
Excitement welled up in Sid’s mind as he tried to make out the
subject of the image.
“Apparently, the ultraviolet radiation of sixty years of exposure
to the Sun has bleached the image so that it looks like an
overexposed beach photo.”
Yet, Sid, could make out the outline of four forms in the scene,
two above and a pair of smaller forms beneath the larger shapes.
“This has to be a photo of one of those 1972 Moon-walker’s
family, either Young or Duke’s.”
Sid felt a twinge of regret. Why hadn’t he been so thoughtful as
to have done the same, i.e., brought a photo of his wife and
children. He truly loved them. Perhaps, as deeply as the Apollo
16 astronaut had loved his. What a wonderful memento that
would have been, especially of their husband and father’s final
grave-site, the Earth’s Moon! But Sid hadn’t.
“Why had I been so selfish? I’d left Earth without so much as
saying, I love you to my wife and my son and daughter. Surely,
they knew I did, but I’m a Marine. It’s difficult saying that kind
of thing. I wish I had. Now, I can’t even say goodbye, unless
our plan is successful. Maybe, there will yet be an opportunity to
express the kind of love for them that this Apollo 16 spaceman
had. He had certainly demonstrated it by leaving their photo here.
This was the site of his life’s most significant moment. He
wanted them to share it.”
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Carefully, Sid replaced the photo, exactly as he found it. He
would say nothing of it to Valerie. It would be his secret for
now. But, maybe, he could do something about what he’d felt.
“Please, God!” was his inner cry. ”Help me show them I really
care.”
“Where have you been, Sid?” asked an anxious Valerie.
“I’ve got the jumper cable in place from our Rover II power
system to the LRV’s battery terminals.
In Russia, my parents use to joke with me about my love for
fixing things. More than once, I’d jumpered power to a dead
battery on a snow mobile on ski trips to the Urals, just on a
slightly higher elevation this time.”
Sid pulled the audio jack from Rover II’s communication panel,
plugged it into his suit’s audio input, walked over to the LRV and
planted the plug into a similar input on the Apollo 16 rover’s
panel. Only the LRV PRESS TO TALK panel button need be
depressed to voice the message from above, that five might be
spending their last days on the Moon if there were no rescue.
*****
“Eagle II, this is Rover II. We have the LRV powered, audio
circuitry activated, awaiting word as to what should be said.”
Each of us had spent the past hour contemplating an answer for
Sid and Valerie. My thoughts had dealt with a book I’d read
several times over the course of my life since inviting Christ to be
my Lord and Savior. Most believers had done the same. The
Christian classic was a practical guide for living the life of Christ
in real time in a real world. Though written in 1896, its example
was ageless.
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The book, authored by Robert Sheldon, was called IN HIS
STEPS. Though fictional, its narrative was altogether believable
and instructive. I’d often thought about authoring an update for
the space age. The theme was based on asking the question,
“What would Jesus do in challenging situations faced in everyday
life?”
The original story had a newspaper publisher and others deal with
that question based on their knowledge of Christ’s example as set
forth in the Bible. My thought, which I’m sure came to many
others, was to craft a similar story. Only, the occupations of the
characters would be computer programmers, biologists dealing
with modern issues of life such as cloning of animals and
humans, or even astronauts and space scientists, i.e., not cloning
them but how they would behave as types of Jesus. Though I
wasn’t an astronaut, my situation as a member of an astronaut
crew posed the same question, “What would Jesus do?” And
that is how I prayed, “Lord, Jesus, what would you do in this
situation?”
Immediately, He answered, in a way that was very troubling. It
was not so much an answer as a thought of a movie I’d seen long
ago about astronauts stranded in space. It wasn’t the Tom
Hanks/Ron Howard movie Apollo 13 but one very much like it.
It was shown in the community theater near the Manned
Spacecraft Center the week we were toiling to rescue Jim Lovell
and his crew, April of 1970. The name of the movie was
Marooned.
Remarkably the movie’s script and scenes duplicated many of the
actual problems Apollo 13 faced. This gave those who watched
the movie a “heads-up” on challenges even before they faced
them. For decades, I’d shared the correlations as irrefutable
evidence that God was involved in the rescue of Apollo 13.
The Scripture I’d cited was Isaiah 65:24…that “(God) would
answer before we call…and while we were yet speaking.” The
“before you call” was the movie Marooned. The “while ye are
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yet speaking” were the real time prayers and solutions coming
forth that week of rescue.
But a single scene in the movie was the subject which troubled
me. Like the Apollo 13 threat, Maroon’s Command Ship called
Iron Man lacked adequate oxygen for the three stranded
astronauts. One scene had the commander saying, “What are we
going to do?” His solution was to forfeit his life for his
crewmates.
Hadn’t the Lord Jesus Christ done the same for me? But I argued
with the thought, “These four crewmates of mine might not be
believers. If I did the same as Iron Man’s captain, they might
have no one to witness of Christ who might, ultimately, bring
them to a saving faith in Him.
“Did I not die for you while you were yet a sinner?”
“Yes, Lord, some two millenniums before my birth.
I must
remain behind, as a martyr, on the Moon while my comrades
return to Earth. Certainly, my sacrifice, like yours, will say much
to them of both of our love and concern for their salvation.
Besides, I’m at least twice the age of the oldest among them.
I’ve nearly finished my course, run my race as Paul so eloquently
wrote.”
Yet, if I were left behind, to die with the depletion of Eagle II’s
oxygen, it must appear that I have already died. Otherwise, my
sacrifice would not help. My demise must be shown to be either
by accident or natural causes.
The message from the Apollo 16 lunar rover vehicle audio
system must make that point. It must be stated so emphatically
and logically as to remove all doubt.
There must be some sort of confirming evidence. Those in
mission control who conduct the forensic investigation must be
convinced. Then, and only then, will the insurance adjustors
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agree to pay the multi-billion dollar claim. Likewise, the pair of
fraudulent recipients of the policy must be wholly assured that I
am unmistakably deceased.
Now, I was ready to meet with Sid, Valerie, Mary, and
Mohammed.
The broadcasted statement will save them.
Likewise, it will prove to them what the Lord revealed about the
secret insurance policy.
There was no doubt that once my death was confirmed, suddenly
the veil would be lifted and a rescue would be in work for my
four crewmates.
Again, it was the Russian, Valerie, who spoke first, “Well, what
do you base-people have for us as a statement? Hopefully, it’s
something more telling than ‘Hello Earthlings! We are alive and
well. Come get us.”
I liked Valerie’s sense of humor, always trying to lighten a heavy
situation with a spirit of levity.
Indeed, she was the
personification of the Proverb…”A merry heart doeth good like a
medicine.”
“I’ve got something that I am sure will work, especially given the
reason for our situation I outlined earlier.”
“Another message from above?” Sid joked following Valerie’s
light hearted comment.
“Actually, it is. In fact, if the response to the statement is what I
think it will be, you all will know for sure what I shared is true.”
(Well, once more, here goes…let me say it in a way that makes
sense to my crewmates. If they don’t accept it, how will those
who have stranded us respond?)
“Since the source of our lunar interment is my presence, I can be
the key which unlocks our extraterrestrial imprisonment.”
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Mohammed’s eyes lifted toward me in understanding.
Apparently, he’d had the exact thought I was about to express.
His belief system recognized the significance of martyrdom.
“Simply put, I’m not returning to Earth with you four. If I die,
you live. My death’s your ticket home. Now, I’m not going to
commit suicide, if that’s what you are thinking, Mohammed.”
At once, my Moslem friend’s
Embarrassed, he looked down.
eyes
turned from me.
“Though I’ll remain with Eagle II, I’ll have weeks, perhaps,
months to prepare for my demise. I’m only one pair of lungs
consuming Eagle II’s stores of Oxygen, one body to drink the
potable water, eat the stowed food stuffs. Besides, if your
journey home ends tragically, I’ll outlive the lot of you in the
leisure of sunny Moon base Tranquility. It really depends on
how swiftly your rescue mission is forthcoming…how long I’ll
survive after your departure.”
There was a brief silence on the communication channel. No one
was arguing with my decision. I felt a brief regret that no one
stepped forth with an argument about what I’d suggested.
“However,” I added, “In order for this scheme to work, we’re
got to prepare a convincing statement with supporting evidence
of my death.”
Mohammed looked up and offered, “We’ll do our best to
authenticate your fictitious passing. Who knows, perhaps, when
we return to Earth without you, we can tell your friends that we
left you behind? You are alive, and a second mission can rescue
you.”
“Thanks, very much,” I answered Mohammed with a smile.
Both of us knew that one rescue mission might be too much to
assume, leave alone two. But I sensed Mohammed was sincere.
It would be akin to a pair of mountain climbers stranded on a
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snowbound peak, one incapacitated, the other mobile. The
healthy climber departs, not as a deserter, rather as a rescuer to
get help. All of us liked the idea. It lifted guilt from all. In fact,
it even imparted some hope to my spirit about survival.
It was Mary who suggested a lead off statement for Valerie and
Sid to transmit. We decided Valerie should be our spokesperson.
Somehow, being a woman, and a hero of the Russian space
program would arouse sympathy among both the citizens of
Russia as well as America. The allies of the Consortium of five
would heed her call for help. Even NANA’s oppressed peoples
would agree with a rescue. But especially having Valerie as our
Capcom from Eagle II’s Rover would impress those two arch
conspirators that their plan was working. No longer was it
necessity to execute the four innocents who accompanied the
deceased insured, Justin Lewis.
This was our scripted message:
ATTENTION: ALL GPS AUDIO COORDINATORS! (These
were the technicians who would initially hear the message as
they worked to assure that the cadre of global positioning
satellites was in sync.)
THIS BROADCAST ORIGINATES FROM THE MOON AT
THE FORMER LANDING SITE OF APOLLO 16. IT IS
BEING SENT FROM THE LUNAR ROVING VEHICLE
REMAINING AT THE SITE. IT IS NOT A HOAX. I AM
COSMONAUT VALERIE BROKOWKA, MEMBER OF THE
EAGLE II TRANQUILITY MISSION LAUNCHED DAYS
AGO. OUR COMMUNICATION SYSTEM FROM EAGLE II
HAS MALFUNCTIONED. TWO OF US HAVE JOURNEYED
SEVERAL HUNDRED MILES TO THE LRV FOR THIS
TRANSMISSION. FOUR OF US ARE ALIVE AND WELL,
HAVING SURVIVED AN APPARENT METEOR STRIKE
PREPARING TO DESCEND FROM OUR EARTH RETURN
VEHICLE.
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(We all believed it important to feign ignorance of any plot to
strand us on the Moon.) UNFORTUNATELY, THE
AMERICAN ENTREPRENEUR JUSTIN LEWIS HAS DIED.
WE BELIEVE HIS DEATH TO BE FROM NATURAL
CAUSES DUE TO HIS ADVANCED AGE OF NEARLY 90
YEARS. PLEASE IMPART OUR REGRETS TO THOSE HE
HELD DEAR.
HOWEVER, OUR UTMOST CONCERN IS THAT THE
MISSION PLANNERS AND NASA FLIGHT CONTROLLERS
BE FULLY AWARE OF OUR NEED OF RESCUE. NO
DAMAGE TO OUR ASCENT MODULE IS APPARENT, BUT
THE EARTH RETURN VEHICLE WILL LIKELY NOT
RETURN US TO EARTH, THOUGH WE SHOULD BE ABLE
TO RENDEZVOUS AND DOCK WITH IT OR A LIKE
RESCUE ERV SENT FROM EARTH.
OUR BASE EAGLE II’S SUPPLIES ARE FULLY ADEQUATE
FOR MONTHS OF SURVIVAL. WE URGE ALL TO DO
THE UTMOST TO LAUNCH AN ERV FOR OUR SAFE
RETURN TO EARTH, TO OUR NATIONS, AND MOST OF
ALL, OUR FAMILIES AND LOVED ONES.
IF THERE IS ANY MEANS THAT COMMUNICATION MAY
BE RESTORED TO EAGLE II, WE URGE IT BE DONE. IT
WOULD GREATLY ENCOURAGE THE FOUR OF US WHO
REMAIN ALIVE THAT THIS TRANSMISSION HAS BEEN
SUCCESSFUL. LIKEWISE, IT WOULD SERVE TO HONOR
OUR FALLEN COMRADE JUSTIN LEWIS WHOSE FINAL
RESTING PLACE IS PRESENTLY WITH US IN EAGLE II.
WE DESIRE TO RETURN HIS REMAINS TO EARTH FOR A
PROPER CHRISTIAN BURIAL.
(Then Valerie voiced that secret coded message intended for
those who had means of affecting the rescue should other plans
fail.)
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I, VALERIE BROKOWKA, COSMONAUT, SEND THIS
MESSAGE IN HONOR OF THE GREAT RUSSIAN SPACE
PIONEER YURI GAGARIN. AND…(Valerie paused for
effect.) FINALLY, GODSPEED TO ALL OF YOU. ALL OF
YOU ON THE GOOD EARTH!
(We hoped invoking the prayer-like benediction akin to the words
of Commander Frank Borman on the Christmas Eve, 1968
circumlunar voyage of Apollo 8 would endear all who heard the
message with the desire to politic for the rescue.)
Sid pressed the LRV’s audio center’s transmit button and
Valerie began…while at least two and, perhaps, three of the
stranded lunar explorers silently prayed.
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The Earthly Response
How he hated the job! Though it paid well, and his contributions
to space exploration had earned him the opportunity, it was a
loathsome assignment. This had to be the most menial task any
college graduate had been assigned, listening for voices of likeassigned communication technicians. These hapless workers
relayed the status of three lonely GPS satellites some 22,300
miles above.
Even those
overhead bundles of orbiting
technology enjoyed better work conditions. After all, from time
to time, an orbital repair mission visited to say hello, “Why, dear
satellite, are you not broadcasting properly? We are going to
operate, give you some transplanted body parts. ”
His shift had an hour before yet another comm-tech, as his kind
were called, would arrive. For the past seven hours, there had
been no audio heard, not even the sizzle and static interference
from an occasional sun-spot, a solar storm tens of millions of
miles distant. Because the duty required no visual involvement,
reading had kept him sane. Having spent five years with the
head-set muffling his ears eight hours each day, ear cartilage had
long ago hardened. No longer did he feel the discomfort of those
first weeks in the summer of 2025.
Added to the dour appointment was its location, a listening post
in the steppes of the Russian landscape. Three of those global
positioning satellites did it all, each spanned a third part of Earth.
Likewise, three ground stations, one beneath each satellite
maintained constant surveillance of their collective health.
During the early 2000s, as an American, he’d held a NASA
position as a Russian translator for American astronauts assigned
the Russian Space Complex. During that duty, he met a quite
pretty young woman of Russian descent. After six months of
courtship, they married. Since then, he’d never returned to
America. Their marriage, though childless, had been reasonably
harmonious. Then, the great influenza epidemic of 2015 had
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swept not only Russia but the entire world leaving millions dead
of complications from the scourge.
Had a vaccine been forthcoming in quantity, likely, he would not
be a widower. Yes, the dreaded contagion had claimed his wife.
For a time, he considered returning to America, but a man fifty
years of age becomes set in his ways as the clique goes.
He
remained abroad, living in the same apartment he had shared with
his now deceased wife.
When the opportunity arose for the GPS ground station curatorial
assignment, he applied. It was suited to someone of modest
ambition. In a sense, it was akin to keeper of the light house,
duties administered by solitary individuals centuries in the past.
He was one of twelve world-wide keepers of the GPS. Four were
assigned to each of the three space-age light houses. They were
keepers of terrestrial and extraterrestrial way-finding.
Each
GPS ground station housed the technology required to keep the
international network alive and well. The rise of NANA called
for elevated communication security.
There were those who
believed terrorism might disrupt the Earth’s dependence on the
global guidance system for ships, planes, cars, and spacecraft.
This resulted in some kind of lock-out audio interrupt whereby
audio transmissions were recorded only by those in receipt of
their content. The communication channel was encrypted such
that a lead-in secret coded transmission from the other ground
stations assured each listener that the instruction was authentic.
Use of the GPS audio comm-link was an international crime
punishable by a minimum incarceration of a decade.
His was the night shift agreeable with his disinterest in
amusement offered by bars or theaters. Only the Moon served as
his ever present evening companion. Tonight, she was in full
regalia, perhaps, the brightest he remembered during recent night
duty. To pass the silent hours, he enjoyed reading science
fiction, especially antiquarian books by the likes of H.G. Welles
and Jules Verne. He had read the Verne classic, FROM THE
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EARTH TO THE MOON and its sequel ROUND THE MOON
several times, always marveling at the prescience of the man
having gotten so many things right a century before Armstrong
and Aldrin actually landed.
This night he neared the end of his third reading of the first of
Verne’s Moon books. It was Chapter 26 where he read of the
three lost in space Victorian Moon Men. As always, the tale was
ending tragically with Verne naming their space ship a new star:
The elements of this new star we have as yet been unable to
determine; we do not yet know the velocity of its passage. The
distance which separates it from the surface of the Moon may be
estimated at about 2,833 miles.
However, two hypotheses come here into our consideration.
1. Either the attraction of the Moon will end by drawing them
into itself, and the travelers will attain their destination; or,
2. The projectile, following an immutable law, will continue to
gravitate round the Moon till the end of time.
He read on, especially, noting how their astronomer friend was
able to observe the course of their journey. It was through a
telescope observatory planted on Colorado’s Long’s Peak:
When the dispatch from Long's Peak had once become known,
there was but one universal feeling of surprise and alarm. Was it
possible to go to the aid of these bold travelers? No! for they had
placed themselves beyond the pale of humanity, by crossing the
limits imposed by the Creator on his Earthly creatures. They had
air enough for two months; they had victuals enough for twelve;- but after that? There was only one man who would not admit
that the situation was desperate-- he alone had confidence; and
that was their devoted friend J. T. Maston.
And finally….
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"Those three men," said he, "have carried into space all the
resources of art, science, and industry. With that, one can do
anything; and you will see that, some day, they will come out all
right."
Yes, he was the evening curator of the Russian GPS ground
station. As such, his role was not unlike that of the friend of
those three Victorian Astronauts.
He, too, was looking
heavenward, only via radio for a signal at the limited distance of
22,370 miles above Earth, GPS altitude.
His thoughts turned to that recent newspaper account of the lost
mission of Eagle II. 0Having landed at Tranquility Base for a
return visit, like Verne’s travelers, those five Eagle II spacefarers
very well might have air and victuals enough for two months.
“What a coincidence!” he thought.
And that was when the sound came from above…
ATTENTION: ALL GPS AUDIO COORDINATORS!
* * * * *
He’d only agreed to Valerie’s request out of duty to her long dead
uncle. Uncle Ivan had mentored him in the art of astronomical
navigation. Teaching him the principles of Newton, Kepler, and
the greats of Soviet rocketry, Uncle Ivan Ivanovich was a rare
individual, indeed.
While most Soviet aerospace engineers of the Cold War era
devoted their lives wholly to science, Ivan exercised a deep
respect for God, attending the underground church despite the
threat of loss of both job and freedom.
Privately, Valerie’s Uncle Ivan had told of the awakening that
came into his life on a trip to coordinate the International
Docking Mission between America and the Soviet Union in
1975. Without the constant surveillance of the Soviet KGB, he
had accepted the invitation of his American counterpart to attend
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a Christian Church near the Manned Spacecraft Center in
Houston, Texas.
The congregation met, not in a cloistered brick and mortar
Cathedral, but rather in the NASA colleague’s home. In fact, the
American NASA man was the interim pastor. The intent was to
grow the modest body of several dozen believers into a vibrant
congregation, who would then call a seminary pastor forth.
Perhaps, for that reason, the KGB agent, secretly, assigned to
monitor such inappropriate worship, had been oblivious to Ivan’s
absence that Sunday morning.
There was no full-throated organ vibrato accompanying the
simple hymns and worship choruses. But what did accompany
those voices was an inexplicable something that moved Ivan to
tears with the singing of a song called Hallelujah. There was no
need to translate that lyric, the word was universal to all
languages. Somehow, the arguments Ivan had within about the
impossibility of a “supreme being” evaporated, replaced by a
feeling of love for each person present as well as the One they
worshipped, the Lord Jesus Christ.
He returned to the Holiday Inn room provided him across from
the space center changed. There he found a copy of a Bible in
the drawer beside his bed. And not any copy, the words were
only Russian.
By Monday morning, he had slept but a few hours, having read
nearly the entire New Testament as suggested by the preface of
the Russian language Bible. What he found agreed with what he
had felt worshipping with those American believers in his
colleague’s home.
Then, the troubling thought came, “Ivan, you must return to
Russia with this Bible.”
Somehow, he knew it would be the book which would sustain his
newfound life in Christ. And that led to Uncle Ivan’s first prayer
to his newly found Lord and Savior, “that God would somehow
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and someway make it possible for Ivan’s Bible to pass through
customs eventually finding a home among his technical volumes
of Soviet rocketry.” That prayer had been answered fifty-five
years ago.
Though he had never embraced Uncle Ivan’s faith, his respect for
the man was unequalled such that when his career led to
espionage with the KGB, he adamantly vowed to say nothing
ever about Ivan’s faith. Even in Ivan’s passing at the conclusion
of the Soyuz/American cooperative missions to ferry astronauts,
cosmonauts, and supplies to the International Space Station, he
had remained silent about Ivan’s faith.
Yet, Ivan had summoned him to his bedside in Moscow, just
prior to Ivan’s passing. Entering the room, he found an attractive
young woman seated beside his life-long friend. She introduced
herself as Ivan’s niece before leaving the room. Alone with Ivan,
he knelt near his comrade. Perhaps, these would be his last
words uttered.
“My friend, I know you have not chosen to embrace my faith in
Jesus Christ. Yet, I believe there remains a great work for your
life on Earth. May I ask only one request of you in that behalf?
Of course, Ivan’s friend nodded his head in agreement…
“Would you, in your continued contact with parties loyal to the
former KGB, do your best to protect my dear niece from harm as
she, like we once did, pursues a career in astrophysics?”
And, of course, once more, he had nodded in the affirmative as
Uncle Ivan’s eyes peacefully closed, not in death but in life.
Leaving the room, he knew Ivan’s days to be short on Earth so
that he offered condolences to Valerie. From his wallet, he drew
a card listing his occupation and business phone, but on the back
he wrote another number, an exchange Valerie had never seen
listed in Moscow directories.
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He had left it at that. But then, a score of years later, his little
used cell phone rang. It was not a listed number, but that one
given Uncle Ivan’s niece a score of years in the past. It was an
unsettling message from his network of former KGB stars. In
summary, some kind of conspiracy was at work involving the
return to Tranquility Base Mission.
His former mentor, Valerie’s Uncle Ivan Ivanovich, would want
him to contact Valerie.
He must do so, but how?
At once, the answer came.
He would send a letter to the editor congratulating Valerie on her
selection for the Eagle II crew.
His newspaper message would request she contact him.
And so it was…
He identified himself only as “that friend of Uncle Ivan’s you
met on the eve of his passing.”
Valerie had his number.
He need not include it in the article.
It worked!
However, so much time had passed since their last meeting that
he did not recognize the telephone caller’s voice as Valerie until
she explained she was the niece of Ivan Ivanovich.
At once, he suggested they meet for dinner to discuss a matter
that would have been of great interest to Uncle Ivan.
Of course, she agreed.
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Uncle Ivan Ivanovich’s Friend
“You were in your best English voice, Valerie,”
compliment about the cry for help sent Earthward.
was Sid’s
“Yes, I took immense pride in not only translating English
scientific journals into Russian but also speaking your language
without the accent most Russians retain.
However, did you notice that what I just said had a hint of that
accent? That was on purpose. I wanted those who heard the
recording to recognize my Soviet background. I say Soviet, not
Russian, because the person who may be able to help us remains,
in his mind’s eye wholly Soviet, not Russian. A former KGB
operative, he has continued in that role, only in clandestine
activities. He is among many former Communists whose hope is
to resurrect the old-line tenets of Marx, Engels, and, yes, even
Stalin. Despite his underlying ruthlessness, his early life was
intertwined with my Uncle Ivan’s.
My father’s brother was a unique man, a confirmed Christian
believer, whose faith had an infectious impact on those he
befriended. Among his treasured comrades was this former
youthful Soviet space technologist who later chose a life among
the spies of the Cold War.
When the Iron Curtain fell, my uncle’s friend publicly renounced
his KGB leanings. This led my Uncle Ivan Ivanovich to aid his
young friend into being accepted and integrated back into
Russian space ventures. However, his colleague’s sentiments
remained with the KGB underground. In a way, this may prove
helpful to our cause. Hearing that my uncle’s death was
imminent, he visited us in a Moscow hospital room a few days
before Uncle passed. There I was introduced to him though I had
no idea who he was, what his background entailed, or what was
his current occupation. I left the room while he and my uncle bid
one another a final farewell. I know the man held a deep respect
and concern for Uncle Ivan because his eyes were tearing when
he met me in the hallway after the visit.
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Entering the room, I found my uncle smiling. He motioned for
me to kneel near him because his voice was weak, and he wished
to say something important.
He said, “Valerie, I must go to a better place. I urge you find the
same path home that I have. It is not the way of success, riches,
and fame, but through humility, courage, and service. Please
know that my words are true…Jesus Christ is the way, the truth,
and the life.”
Then, he added, “But before I pass, you must remember that man
who visited me. Many fear him, but I know him in a way they do
not. Someday, you, too, may know him in that way. Though, at
this time, such seems unimportant, I have asked him to do his
utmost to protect you from people and forces you have no control
over. Hopefully, you will never need his help. Nevertheless, I
have asked him to provide you contact information should you
require his assistance. He did provide you that information…did
he not?”
“Yes, he did, Uncle Ivan.”
“And at that my Uncle’s eyes closed, and he smiled at me. The
next day he passed from this life.”
It was several weeks before the launch of Eagle II that I was
reminded of my Uncle Ivan’s friend. While everything seemed
fine with plans to launch, something I read in the Moscow Daily
troubled me. It was a letter to the editor wishing me well on my
voyage and to remember our hospital visit. It was signed simply,
Uncle Ivan’s friend.
That’s when I contacted this, now middle-aged member of the
former KGB. We met and talked over dinner at a Moscow bistro.
His network of secret informants was suspicious of the purpose
of the mission. Though the intelligence remained veiled, there
was concern about some kind of international conflict between
NANA and the Consortium involving our Return to Tranquility
Base mission. If I encountered some kind of conspiratorial
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conflict, he asked me to voice the message - I, VALERIE
BROKOWKA, COSMONAUT, SEND THIS MESSAGE IN
HONOR OF THE GREAT RUSSIAN SPACE PIONEER YURI
GAGARIN.
Once his cabal of former KGB operatives was aware of my peril,
they would act to resolve the threat. Then, he reminded me that
his deep admiration for Uncle Ivan compelled him to fulfill his
dying mentor’s request. Until we reached the Apollo Rover,
there was no way I could set in motion our rescue. Now, all of
us should be encouraged. Uncle Ivan is working in our behalf
beyond the grave.”
Valerie smiled and said, “But neither Uncle Ivan nor his KGB
friend will be much use if we can’t find our way back to Eagle II.
Let’s go!”
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The Russian Steppes
The voice received at the GPS Russian Steppes Ground
Station had a slight Russian accent. Since the security code was
absent, the content would not be trusted. Nevertheless, by virtue
of satellite signal tracking, he knew the transmission was
authentic. The ground station’s radar surveillance scanners
combed the cosmos from treetop to Mars for overhead space
refuse. No satellite, high or low, could interfere with the Steppes
GPS.
Only a sole satellite overhead could be the source of the message.
It was the Earth’s Moon. He knew it had emanated from there.
Because it had no relationship to the GPS network, he was not
duty bound to reveal it to the remainder of the network. Very
likely, based on the microvolt level of the weak signal, he’d been
the only recipient. For now, it would remain his secret from his
sister GPS ground stations.
What should he do with it? It was now recorded among the day’s
half dozen audio messages from his colleagues manning the GPS
wireless system. But how very different was its content, not an
instruction for GPS operations, but a rescue call a quarter million
miles away!
A feeling of overwhelming power flooded his mind and spirit. It
was awesome! He was the one person on Earth able to initiate
the rescue of Eagle II’s crew. The news media had adamantly
reported their certain death.
Despite feeling privileged, he was deeply troubled. Why would
those stranded astronauts communicate via the GPS rather than
the S-band link to NASA’s Mission Control? He knew enough
from his years with NASA that someone had disabled the World
Wide tracking network’s ability to communicate with Eagle II. If
he was able to collect the transmission on the GPS frequency,
there had to be a conspiracy blocking normal receptions from
Eagle II.
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Those who trained as GPS station custodians knew that those
Apollo lunar rovers had once possessed the GPS audio
wavelength. No more manned Moon missions meant they had
been released for GPS use.
Apparently, Eagle II’s crew knew as much. But to have trekked
from Tranquility Base to one of those moth-balled Moon cars
spoke volumes. Their situation was altogether desperate. It
would be akin to having your home phone line cut by a burglar,
and then crawling a block down the street to a cell phone
discarded sixty years in the past. Of course, the batteries would
be lifeless.
Not only had Eagle II’s crew crawled scores of miles, they had
succeeded in finding a phone and charging its lifeless battery.
They had made a quarter million mile 911 call.
Something was very much amiss. What should he do with the
message, knowing its content might be perilous? Should there be
powers wanting it squelched, he must devise a foolproof means
of validating it.
The widest audience on the planet ought to
know its content. Following GPS protocol, revealing its nature to
his kind, the GPS station operators, could be fatal to all of them.
Yes, even those thousands of miles beyond the horizon, as well
as himself, might mysteriously disappear.
From his rucksack, he drew out his digital assistant. Plugging a
jack into the GPS recorder’s digital audio output terminal, he
attached the other end of the jumper to his digital assistant’s
input. It took less than a minute recording the message into the
handheld DA’s memory. Likewise, he recorded housekeeping
data: the time and directional strength of the overhead
transmission, This would confirm the validity of the call from
the Moon, proving Eagle II’s astronauts as the source.
Next, to satisfy his curious mind, he “Googled” the Internet,
searching for the bios of Eagle II’s crew. He knew they were
five in number, two of them women…one a Russian, the obvious
spokesperson from above. Voice recognition algorithms would
130
identify her as surely as any DNA sample or archaic fingerprint
confirmation.
Comparing the words recorded from media interviews with the
same words contained in the rescue call provided an identical
“voice print.” His DA’s audio recognition program made the
determination. Yes, the voice was, indeed, that of Valerie
Brokowka. The likelihood of error was one part in a million.
There were certainly a few less female cosmonauts than one
million.
But it would take more than convincing himself to thwart those
who meant the crew harm. It would require alerting all levels of
society, including espionage interests. One such group was
altogether familiar to him, the remnants of the former Soviet
KGB. If a conspiracy existed, surely these agents would want to
know of it.
How wholly ironic it was! He now trusted the most nefarious
untrustworthy entity of the Cold War. But that was before the
advent of the Consortium and NANA became the rulers of
civilization. When allies become enemies, enemies become
friends.
“What a paradox!” he thought as he shoveled beneath several
feet of impacted snow uncovering a hidden lockbox beneath the
Steppes tundra. From it, he grasped an IPOD-like module with
his left hand while he held his digital assistant between his right
thumb and forefinger. A magnetic jack-less connection made the
hookup between devices easy. Holding them in contact, he
pressed the transmit button on each, knowing that the message
from above was being voiced into a network via a secure
frequency set years ago into the hidden module..
When the transmission was complete, he simultaneously lifted
his finger from the fake-IPOD and cast it into the void of the
darkness. Before falling to Earth, the projectile disintegrated into
a burning powdery dust unnoticed as its particles were carried
afar by the winter winds of the Russian Steppes.
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The Return to Tranquility Base
The return to Tranquility Base promised few difficulties. With a
hundred log entries, each noting odometer and directional data
points, the trek to Eagle II should take half the time. No piloting
astronaut need walk ahead guiding the rover’s driver past
obstacles, hidden Moon-dust sink-holes or too steep crater slopes.
The peril of the trip to Apollo 16 was past. Mission completed!
“We’re on sort of a free-return trajectory,” chuckled Sid.
“And what do you mean by that?”
“Well, those Apollo astronauts worried about being able to restart
their mother ship’s main engine for the retro-burn into lunar
orbit.”
Valerie shared Sid’s upbeat mirth.
“Guess that would spoil your day-trip to the Moon?”
“Sure would, but it wouldn’t end your life. The free-return
trajectory would prevent that. You’d have another chance to try
again, on yet another mission.”
Valerie asked, “How’s that?”
“You know what I’m talking about. Your cosmonauts use
another term for the orbital mechanics concept.”
Sid added, “Perhaps, you call it an ‘Earth Moon Continuation
Orbit.’ The idea is that the outbound lunar injection engine burn
establishes an orbit. It is a circle eight from the Earth, around the
Moon and back to Earth for heat shield reentry.”
“It’s ironic but the only time we really needed it, we had
deviated from it on Apollo 13. When the explosion made using
the main engine chancy, we had to use the lander’s descent
engine to return to the free-return orbit.”
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“Of course,” agreed Valerie. “We often used the technique on
our unmanned lunar probes.”
She added, “But what’s that got to do with our rover’s return to
Eagle II?”
Sid answered, “Our log book is actually only a back up to a freenavigational ride back. Watch this.”
Valerie was amazed. The rover had an auto-pilot able to drive
the rover using a reverse mirror locus route for the return. An onboard navigational robotic steering/translation system made it
possible. Sid had actuated it with a switch beneath the operator’s
display panel.
“See Valerie…no hands! This is a better free-return than
Armstrong and his eleven Moon-men could have used as
protection from their main engine failing.”
Nevertheless, Valerie felt troubled about Sid’s foolishness, taking
his hands off the steering yoke.
“Stop that, Sid! What if the nav-system ignores a boulder?
Without our surveillance, it might strike a fore or aft tire.
Besides that, your jury-rig fender ski on the left rear needs
pampering.”
Before Sid responded to Valerie’s warning, her words proved
prophetic. The autopilot failed to avoid an exceptionally large
chunk of lunar regolith. The right front motor drove its wheel
obliquely into the mass such that the guidance yoke recoiled into
Sid’s EVA glove. Though he’d tried to grab the “joy stick” in
response to Valerie’s scolding, it was too late. The damage had
been done.
Yes, the autopilot knew the course back, but not the granularity
of the surface topography. Sid had been presumptuous and
foolish. Neil Armstrong had faced a similar challenge, taking
control from Eagle’s autopilot avoiding descent into perilous
lunar firmament. What had saved Apollo 11 was not to be used
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by Rover II. The front right axle was irreparably wounded
beyond any jury rig fender fix.
No longer need Valerie and Sid worry about rescue by a Moon
bound ERV. The hundred plus miles back to Tranquility Base
eclipsed the challenge of the quarter-million miles the Apollo
free-return was designed to surmount. Hiking on the Moon was
fine for distances measured in miles but fatal for journeys on foot
of scores of miles. Not only were they left behind on the Moon,
now they were stranded afar from their comrades occupying
Eagle II’s base.
Ironically, William Safire’s eulogy for a stranded Armstrong and
Aldrin was appropriate for Valerie and Sid. It would forever
speak of their fate….”that a small part of another world will be
forever mankind.” Fine, except that a more fitting term for that
final word would be humankind. Sid and Valerie were male and
female.
The sheepish voice of Sid Larue explained the dilemma. With
shocked unbelief, their crewmates fretted over such a tragic
circumstance.
“It’s paradoxical,” sighed Mohammed.
“They have enough oxygen, water and nourishment for weeks of
survival, but only if they stay with the vehicle. Should they set
out on foot for our base camp, they won’t last more than a dozen
hours. Even with the ability to sprint the distance, suit oxygen
would be depleted miles and miles from us.”
Suddenly, that dream, I’d had days ago, surfaced in my memory.
“If you stay with the ship, you will be saved.”
At once, I spoke, “They must not leave the rover! Even though
its drive system is no more, it is their only hope for survival.”
Of course, all agreed, even Sid and Valerie.
I recalled others in Scripture who made a like decision - to wait
for God’s rescue: Jonah in the fish’s belly, Paul in a basket being
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lowered to Earth from an angry mob intent on his death, the
prostitute Rahab whose dwelling was on the Wall of Jericho - a
place of certain death in light of what was to befall that wall –
yet, she did not perish, those eight in Noah’s Ark, and finally,
and most encouraging, those twelve frightened disciples whose
stormy death by drowning seemed imminent on the Sea of
Galilee. In that last case was the certain answer, “Jesus, the
Lord” was in their boat, the vehicle of salvation.
And so I prayed, “Lord, rescue Valerie and Sid, as you saved
Jonah, Paul, Rahab, Noah and your disciples.” It seemed
impossible except for the promise, “With God all things are
possible.” Then came a strange warmth, a tingling sense of
assurance. I wondered, “Was that you Lord?”
“It must be God’s answer…Sid and Valerie must ‘hunker-down’
as stranded mountain climbers, until help came.” A still small
inner voice added to my assurance. It spoke the words Apollo
15 astronaut Jim Irwin had quoted on the Moon. “Look unto the
hills from whence cometh your (our) help.” Though Irwin had
not found Noah’s Ark, his quest in later life, he had found the
One who abideth with Noah in the Ark. That same One was
abiding with Sid and Valerie.
“He would come from those hills with help, but how?”
wondered.
I
135
The Beneficiaries
The GPS ground station operator felt no fear sending the lunar
transmission forth into the espionage void of operators and
operatives.
While he’d speculated that some kind of
extraterrestrial conspiracy had those five Eagle II spacefarers
stranded, he was clueless about who or what was involved.
Not so, with regard to his imminent “official” transmission to his
colleague who was also manning a GPS “lighthouse” for the
World’s transportation purposes. Two outcomes were possible.
Both held sinister consequences.
Either the nefarious
perpetrators would raze all evidence of the content which,
incidentally, would include his untimely demise by altogether
reasonable circumstances crafted for public broadcast. Of course,
the Canary Islands operator would likewise meet his fate, being
the only other recipient.
The other, and equally dark result, would be immediate
interrogation regarding, how, when, why, and what he thought of
the message’s content. All matter of truth potions, prevarication
instrumentation (this era’s name for what once were tabbed lie
detectors), and, yes, even some kind of psychological stress
(formerly known as “brain-washing”) would be administered.
The more he thought of it, the less he relished the idea of sending
word West to the Canaries. The hour was late, his shift about to
conclude, and the decision was made. He would not send the
message onward. If the KGB agents were unsuccessful, then
there would be five lunar graves. At least for some time yet, the
Moon would be populated by humankind. Besides, his decision
saved at least a pair of lives, his and the Canary GPS station
operator. Had he sent the word forth, perhaps, seven would
perish instead of five.
*****
Ivan’s KGB friend often wondered how the alarm would sound, a
call to arms for his kind, the former KGBers of the Soviet Union.
136
His expectations were, of course, anything but a phone call, an email, or, may Stalin forbid, a snail mail letter. The only direction
given was: you alone will understand the message to be an
unmistakable direction to proceed. He guessed that meant some
kind of psychological puzzle which would be unique to his
thinking and personality.
Since the news media’s broadcast of the loss of Eagle II, he was
vigilant, expecting just that kind of revelation…that somehow,
he’d see, hear, or experience the words from Valerie…”In the
name of that great…hero…Yuri Gagarin.” And, at once, he
would ignite the network which alone could verify and correct
any conspiratorial designs wrought upon Valerie and her
crewmates. Yet, absolutely nothing had appeared.
Those masters of the Cold War era had artfully designed the alert
system. Leaving message disintegrators judiciously placed
about those world entities able to sound an alarm had been their
plan. He wondered if that had been fact or fable. If fact, then
one might already have been employed. If fable, then, yes,
Valerie and the others had perished above. Added to the fact
would be the most perilous adventure of his life as an agent of the
KGB.
And then, he saw it, overhead, at the corner of Vladimir and
Gagarin Parkway which led to the Russian Museum of Space
Archives, the site of Soyuz, Buran, and the proud aeronautical
artifacts of the past century. Some said, the ash remnants of the
Soviet space dog Laika were interred there, in the cornerstone of
the massive façade on Gagarin Parkway. It was a digital sign
mounted three stories above street level. An innocent streaming
advertisement flashed above directing tourists eastward toward
the Museum’s entrance.
ENJOY OUR NATIONAL
TREASURE IN HONOR OF… BOTH VALERIE
BROKOWKA, COSMONAUT…AND IN HONOR OF THE
GREAT RUSSIAN SPACE PIONEER YURI GAGARIN.
Could that be the cryptic message from Valerie in an annotated
form? He waited for the news marquee to play through the
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remainder of the messages. He aimed his cell-phone camera at
the streaming lights. After the latest Russian stock market quotes,
it appeared once more, only with subsequent wording: THIS
BROADCAST ORIGINATES FROM THE MOON AT THE
FORMER LANDING SITE OF APOLLO 16. IT IS BEING
SENT FROM THE LUNAR ROVING VEHICLE REMAINING
AT THE SITE. IT IS NOT A HOAX. I AM COSMONAUT
VALERIE BROKOWKA, MEMBER OF THE EAGLE II
TRANQUILITY MISSION LAUNCHED DAYS AGO. OUR
COMMUNICATION SYSTEM FROM EAGLE II HAS
MALFUNCTIONED. TWO OF US HAVE JOURNEYED
SEVERAL HUNDRED MILES TO THE LRV FOR THIS
TRANSMISSION. FOUR OF US ARE ALIVE AND WELL,
HAVING SURVIVED AN APPARENT METEOR STRIKE
PREPARING TO DESCEND FROM OUR EARTH RETURN
VEHICLE.
UNFORTUNATELY, THE AMERICAN ENTREPRENEUR
JUSTIN LEWIS HAS DIED. WE BELIEVE HIS DEATH TO
BE FROM NATURAL CAUSES DUE TO HIS ADVANCED
AGE OF NEARLY 90 YEARS. PLEASE IMPART OUR
REGRETS TO THOSE HE HELD DEAR. .
HOWEVER, OUR UTMOST CONCERN IS THAT THE
MISSION PLANNERS AND NASA FLIGHT CONTROLLERS
BE FULLY AWARE OF OUR NEED OF RESCUE. NO
DAMAGE TO OUR ASCENT MODULE IS APPARENT, BUT
THE EARTH RETURN VEHICLE WILL LIKELY NOT
RETURN US TO EARTH, THOUGH WE SHOULD BE ABLE
TO RENDEZVOUS AND DOCK WITH IT OR A LIKE
RESCUE ERV SENT FROM EARTH.
OUR BASE EAGLE II’S SUPPLIES ARE FULLY ADEQUATE
FOR MONTHS OF SURVIVAL. WE URGE ALL TO DO
THE UTMOST TO LAUNCH AN ERV FOR OUR SAFE
RETURN TO EARTH, TO OUR NATIONS, AND MOST OF
ALL, OUR FAMILIES AND LOVED ONES. IF THERE IS
ANY WAY THAT COMMUNICATION BE RESTORED TO
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EAGLE II, WE URGE IT BE DONE. IT WOULD GREATLY
ENCOURAGE THE FOUR OF US WHO REMAIN ALIVE
THAT THIS TRANSMISSION HAS BEEN SUCCESSFUL.
LIKEWISE, IT WOULD SERVE TO HONOR OUR FALLEN
COMRADE JUSTIN LEWIS..
I, VALERIE BROKOWKA, COSMONAUT, SEND THIS
MESSAGE IN HONOR OF THE GREAT RUSSIAN SPACE
PIONEER YURI GAGARIN. AND, FINALLY, GODSPEED
TO ALL OF YOU. ALL OF YOU ON THE GOOD EARTH!
At once, the sign flashed twice, blanked for several seconds
before once more relaying world and Russian news to passersby.
Because of the late hour, he judged the street to be all but
deserted. Of course, those few vagrants who always held
outstretched hands to passing tourists had taken no note of the
marquee.
Wine had been their narcotic of choice for the
evening. He waited a quarter hour for a replay of the message.
There was none. He’d been the only recipient, and, of course, his
cell phone camera.
Had that one who orchestrated the transmission at the moment he
passed under the marquee recognized him? If so, he was in grave
danger, even at this moment. He held in his hand proof that
Eagle II’s crew, except, perhaps, for Justin Lewis was alive and
well. He must fulfill his promise to Valerie’s Uncle, but how
might that be done? On the other hand, those agents of the past
might have crafted the transmission in such a way that there was
no live operative sending the message.
Perhaps, it was an automated robot set to launch decades ago, at
the moment he passed by, with the message which only he would
appreciate. This is what he had been told. Now, he must apply
his craft, making certain the conspirators took Valerie’s message
seriously so that a rescue mission would be launched. He knew
exactly how that could and would be done.
Returning to his apartment, a wholly unsecured dwelling from
any type of audio, video, or biological surveillance, he lifted his
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laptop computer from its usual dwelling place shelved above his
dog Little Star’s pillow. Since his first days with the KGB, he’d
found the best secrets were openly seen. One way of assuring a
secret was discovered as espionage was to treat it as such.
Anything in the open was regarded innocently as nonthreatening.
Nothing on his hard drive was encrypted. In fact, he had never
installed much in the way of anti-virus software. This left those
who might want to scan his data files ignorant of what had been
planted by a spammer and what might be spy-ware. Even that
term spy-ware had become innocent. Everybody had to deal with
it. Why eradicate it? It was useful in misleading a data profiler
from finding the real spy-ware. Shortly, he was about to unleash
Valerie’s message to a million eyes on the World Wide Web “for
all mankind.”
Yet, there were some precautions to be taken. As Valerie’s only
ally, he must remain operative, i.e., alive. To that end, he
downloaded the cell phone’s video clip. It would become an
attachment to a spam network reply to a Nigerian appeal letter.
When the reply was sent to that spammer in the darkest Africa, it
would likewise, appear as a new video link in IPODs, throughout
America, Russia, and even those contraband handsets bought on
the black market among NANA’s citizens.
The message, by its content, could be proven as anything but a
HOAX. Actually, there were surveillance systems throughout the
planet who would be able to ferret from the broadband
electromagnetic spectrum, when and from where the message
originated. Once the message was known, the investigation
would confirm its validity. It was a tenet of signal recognition.
“White-noise is not random, if one knows a message is contained
within.” This would be that confirmation.
Pulling the identification chip from its port on the laptop’s side,
he walked to his Vespa, placed the computer in his rucksack and
rode toward the Moscow Starbucks Coffee Emporium, a wireless
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hot spot deep within the Internet maze of URLs, e-mail addresses
and cell phone web browsers. Stripping all return data validation,
he wholly obscured his identity on the WWW. Next, he track
balled the mouse cursor to the send icon and performed a left
click, “one small click for all mankind.”
He smiled with the thought, “Your rescue has been launched,
Valerie!”
At once, a pair of phones rang, one in the White House, the other
in the bedroom of NANA’s Prime Potentate. Secure digital
encryption assured the audio content was heard by only these
men, the beneficiaries of Justin Lewis’ triple indemnity life
insurance policy. The NASA Mission Control Security Officer
read the transmission in robotic fashion, concluding with the
comment, “This message was transmitted throughout the entire
Internet as well as Intranets among all the major news media
concerns on the planet. Additionally, it has been confirmed that
the transmission was authentic, not a hoax. This fact is known to
all those who now have read the nature of the call for help from
Eagle II’s crew.”
Immediately, the security officer dropped off the line while the
beneficiaries conferred. The President was first to speak:
“If Lewis is dead, all remains in place. He is the owner of the
policy. But proof of his death is mandatory for our purposes.
We must launch the ERV rescue in order to validate his demise
with the underwriters.”
NANA’s Prime Minister paused before commenting, “In a sense,
I’m happy for this outcome. It was unjust for those four
innocents to die simply to assure our receipt of Lewis’s policy
proceeds.”
He continued, “No one except Justin Lewis might have known
that our insurance policy would profit us. In fact, by my
thinking, Lewis had the opinion that the policy would preserve
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international harmony between our respective entities, NANA
and the CONSORTIUM.”
Conders agreed, “You are assuredly correct…this is a very useful
result. However, no evidence of misconduct on NASA’s part
must exist. All must believe that Eagle II’s malfunction was not
premeditated nor was the silence of Tranquility Base’s
communications with Earth.”
“And how might that be assured?” asked Akema.
“Only four flight controllers conspired in the ERV explosion and
communication blackout. They are pledged to silence. The
malfunction will always be viewed as an unfortunate meteor
strike and communication failure. At least, we will be rescuing
four astronauts. Perhaps, we can comfort ourselves with that
knowledge. It might have been four lives taken adding to the
tragedy of Lewis’s fortuitous demise.“
Akema’s momentary silence showed his displeasure at the
remaining four live witnesses. Nevertheless, he concluded,
“There remains only one hurdle to overcome. Somehow, we
must prove Justin Lewis’s death. Without proof, the underwriters
will not pay the triple indemnity coverage needed to profit us
handsomely from our private policy. The rescue ERV funding is
assured under the mission malfunction policy. The demise of the
original ERV assures such. If only all had died from the
explosion, these complications would not exist.
Unfortunately, we will need to prove Lewis’s death to obtain our
reward. Additionally, the underwriters will insist on returning his
deceased corpse to Earth.
If we fail, Conders, your clever saboteurs must contrive a like
malfunction for the second ERV, one which irrefutably confirms
Lewis is dead. Of course, Eagle II’s crew will join him. We
will not grant them pardon.”
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NASA Mission Control
“What a cryin’ shame…the death of those four flight controllers
on NASA Parkway last night. If only they’d known that Eagle
II’s crew is alive, they could be assisting in their rescue. Now we
need to replace those poor guys, killed coming out of the main
gate onto NASA Parkway last night.”
“How did it happen?”
“A RETRO was driving. He had the light which had just
changed to green. Somehow, a pickup broadsided them as they
pulled onto the Parkway. The guy driving the truck died at the
scene saying something about a green light. When they checked
the control box actuator, they found relay contacts fused, hadn’t
been changed since the last Shuttle flight ten years ago.”
“At any rate, Engineering is working with the paper pushers to
develop a cost effective rescue using old Shuttle, Apollo, and
Soviet spacecraft hardware, and boost systems. It’s to jury-rig a
rescue craft able to replace the Eagle II ERV. Actually, it
shouldn’t be too tough. We just need to get a kick stage to lunar
orbit, then blast the ascent stage homeward.”
“Yeh, one of the propulsion guys says there’s a secretly upgraded
Titan IV the military has maintained in launch readiness for
national security purposes. It employs a cluster of strapped on
Shuttle SRBs. It could do the job of lifting an Orbital Transfer
Stage in tandem with the refurbished ERV…sort of like an
Apollo 13 rescue, on an Earth to Moon trajectory.”
“But who’s to pay for the refurb?”
“Funding is coming from the White House…don’t know how or
why, but just that it’s been promised by the President. We are to
proceed as though we have adequate funding for the rescue.
Let’s get to work.
143
The Gospel According to Justin Lewis
Lunar living, for the Moon base denizen, fowls up sidereal clocks
set by sunup/sundown Earth events. At first, day/night sleep
habits align with Earth’s schedule. But, ever so slightly, the
“wannabe” solar system colonist succumbs to a haphazard sleep
routine devoid of alternating sunrise-sunset timing. Added
stress from Valerie and Sid’s rover break-down further
aggravated my random sleep pattern.
Believing it was early morning, Houston time, I found that
slumber fled from me. I’d never, as some suggested, counted
sheep to sleep. Instead, I launched prayers, some brief others
protracted. Generally this worked better than any druggist’s
sleeping pill or potion. Nevertheless, my crewmates chose the
pill-path to dream-land while I recited the Lord’s Prayer for the
tenth time. Even the 23rd Psalm proved fruitless. The “lying
down in green pastures…leadeth me beside still waters” verse
was having no effect whatsoever. For the first time since the
lunar landing, I heard Mohammed lightly snoring. His head
rested on the back of the couch facing the communication panel.
Then came some kind of static buzzing mixed with those nasal
sounds from Mohammed. It was the wardroom speaker:
“Eagle II, this is mission control. Do you read this transmission?
Please respond. We believe we have corrected the anomaly with
your transmitter. Please attempt to communicate with us to
validate our fix.”
Gasping, as he reached for the PTT (Push To Talk) button,
Mohammed simultaneously shouted, “YES…YES, HOUSTON.
WE HEAR YOU. DO YOU HEAR US?”
“Loud and clear,” the CapCom answered and continued,
“Valerie’s transmission from the Apollo 16 Rover is being
broadcast over the entire planet. All news media including the
venues of the Internet, video, cinema, wire services, and printed
144
headlines are publishing your survival. Hope for your lives was
gone after having heard no transmissions from you earlier.”
Then was added that thing which God had revealed would bring
forth a viable rescue, “Of course, everyone mourns the passing
of Mr. Lewis, a true citizen of Earth whose benevolence has done
so very much for world peace among the brotherhood of
mankind.”
Silently, I listened to the aggravating remark, knowing how very
phony it was based on the conspiracy which wanted me and my
crewmates dead.
I thought, “Cut the New Age talk. Only in Christ are all brothers
and sisters as a popular Gospel song phrased it four decades in
the past. Simply being born into the human race during one of
the centuries since creation made one no more a Christian than
being born as a Sputnik satellite. The Gospel according to Justin
Lewis was the same as that of the Apostle Paul when he wrote,
“There is neither male nor female, Jew nor Greek, bond nor free,
we are all ONE IN CHRIST JESUS.”
This was Paul’s way of phrasing the words of Christ Jesus when
He said, “I am the way the truth and the life. No man comes to
the Father but by me.” My paraphrase would be, “I am the
ONLY way to God the Father.”
But, this was my sentiment. I supposed Mohammed was not
threatened by the CapCom’s pronouncement. Nevertheless, the
next statement from mission control posed a formidable
challenge:
“In order to proceed with your rescue, it is required that Mr.
Lewis’s death be confirmed by medical examiners scheduled to
arrive in mission control in twelve hours. That would be 8:00
a.m. Houston time.”
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Mohammed immediately knew why such a demand had been
made. It was evidence to him that what God had revealed
through me was, indeed, true. My reported death had assured our
rescue. But how could we prove such to the experts? And in
twelve hours?
“We will be waiting for your call at that time,” Mohammed said
as he terminated the communication.
Astronaut Mary Evers, Mohammed, and I sat at the wardroom
planning table. Once more, I needed wisdom from above. No
Earth-walking coroner would accept the simple video view of a
cadaver as evidence of death. I’d read of felons feigning sleep or
death by fashioning skulls from potatoes and nylon stocking
mesh, but that was for prison escape. Our challenge was
somewhat similar, to replicate a deceased Justin Lewis whose
morbidity would be so apparent as to convince NASA’s medics
of my demise.
“God,” I prayed, “you resurrected your Son Jesus from death.
Help us do the opposite.”
And, He answered the very moment I spoke aloud the word
resurrect. It was Mary, a doctor herself, who He spoke to in a
way only she could have heard.
“Justin, I am beginning to understand the God you pray to
because HE just spoke to me with an idea.”
Mohammed’s eyelids lifted in wonder as Mary continued…
“When you said the word resurrected, I heard the word
‘resuscitated’. And I had what you might call a vision. You
were actually dead, i.e., no respiration, no heart beat, clammy
flesh, skin ashen. Yes, I saw you were deceased. That’s when I
thought of a plan. I’ve heard you call this kind of thing a ‘witty
invention’ from God. I’m not going to scoff at you anymore
about them. The idea is brilliant and certain to work if we can
execute it correctly.”
146
Astronaut Evers continued, “Perhaps, you’ve seen the movie The
Flatliners. It’s a cult classic horror movie released in the 1990s.
A group of thrill seeking teens decides to experiment with death,
hoping to understand its effect on the spirit, soul, and body. I
forget the details except that the term flatliner meant the victim’s
heart ceased beating, i.e., the EKG pen on an electrocardiogram
scope trace simply drew a flat line along the time axis.”
Mary paused when she saw the puzzled looks on our faces. She
continued to explain her idea, “Well, after the teen’s EKG
flatlined, the friends resuscitated the victim through heroic
means. When Justin prayed about resurrecting Jesus from the
dead, I thought about resuscitating Justin from flatlining. My
recollection, though it may be erroneous, was that in one
experiment, the teen failed to be resuscitated. There is, likewise,
such a risk for you Justin in what I’m proposing.”
“This is not science fiction. Rather it is a medical experiment
that was included in our Eagle II medical mission plans. The
crux of the procedure uses an experimental heartbeat depressant
putting the subject into a hibernation-like state. The heart beats
once every half minute. As you know normal heart rates exceed
one beat per second.”
“I’ve read of animal studies examining the drug’s ability to
depress heart rate to as little as a beat every five minutes. Such
results from elevated doses of Hyber-cardilyn as the drug is
known.
I am certain we can expedite the NASA coroners’
examination so that it is completed in less than five minutes. If
we are not successful, there is always the option of electro-shock
therapy to restart the heart.”
“Justin, to lesson the risk, we’ll place you in the airlock prior to
the exam, over pressurizing your body with a 100 percent pure
oxygen atmosphere. We’ll supersaturate your body, lungs, blood,
tissue with sufficient O2 to extend your life beyond the five
minute exam so that resuscitation will be likely.”
147
“To assure we are not feigning your death, likely, they will
require us to attach the EKG sensor electrodes to one of us, live
subjects, along with you the dead subject. In that way assurance
of your death will be confirmed. The alternating traces on the
EKG telemetered to Earth will show normal wave forms of the
live subject and the flat-lined signal from your dead heart. While
this sounds ghastly on the surface, it’s no more threatening than
the kinds of techniques encountered in operating room heart
transplant surgery.”
I guessed the last comment came from Mary after she noticed the
stricken look on my face. But she continued, “The brain scan
poses a more formidable challenge than the EKG. While heart
resuscitation is fairly well understood, brain wave reclamation is
not. That’s why coroners base mortality judgment on flat-lining
of brain waves. Again, they’ll likely want alternate probes on a
live and your dead brain Justin for the EEG determination.”
Suddenly, Mohammed interrupted, “I think I can assist here. It’s
my area of expertise.”
Mary replied, “Perhaps, Mohammed could fashion an electrical
brain-wave like signal the moment the probe is placed on one of
our sculls, not yours, of course, Justin.”
Mohammed was silent for a few minutes while Mary and I pulled
up the Mars Transit Sleep Inducement Drug Experiment from
Eagle II’s medical data base.
“Why didn’t I think of that?” Mohammed appeared to be talking
to himself. “No need to get complicated. I need only coat
Justin’s skull with a non-conductive medical powder. Such will
readily block the microvolt signal from brain waves being
detected by the EEG. Your brain will appear flat-lined, indeed.”
While Mohammed and Mary congratulated themselves on the
plan, I got a sobering thought, “What if the NASA coroners
requested an autopsy, a surgical removal of my heart, sure
evidence of my death? How could we hope to deal with that?”
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I told my crewmates of my concern.
At once, came a thought, a Scripture, “To live is Christ…to die is
gain.” What I was being asked to do was exactly what Christ had
volunteered for me and all mankind, to die in our place, for us, as
a sacrifice for sin, that we might be forgiven and live
forevermore.
“There is no way we can avoid the request should it be given but
to anesthetize me and perform the autopsy. My Savior did that
for me. By His grace and strength, I will do it for you.
However, before you agree to their request, remind them of my
strong belief in the resurrection of the body unto life everlasting
with my Savior. Most of those doctors have, likely, recited the
Apostles’ Creed countless times in perfunctory fashion in Sunday
Church services. Perhaps, it would give them pause knowing I
desired to keep my body in tact for resurrection day.”
“I think it would be best if Mohammed expressed this with words
like….Sirs, I, as a Moslem, would wish for you to respect the
tenets of my faith. Will you not so honor one of your own by
respecting his Christian wishes? He desired to be buried whole
not as an emasculated corpse, heart apart from his body. Then
remind the doctors who certainly will confer with mission
planners that…this mission had been fashioned to honor
ecumenical beliefs of the world’s great religions.”
Finally, I concluded, “Should that not satisfy them, you are free
to remove my hibernating heart from my body. No longer will
resuscitation be needed.”
With that Mary collected the slumber drug from the medical
locker, Mohammed located his insulating skull powder, and I
entered the airlock for my prolonged bath in 100% Oxygen at
greater than 15 pounds per square inch pressure.
Fearing Valerie’s and Sid’s knowing of our plans might
additionally stress them, we remained silent. Indeed, their
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challenge was an ever growing concern such that Sid acted in a
way no one would have expected.
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Four Replacement Flight Controllers
He was among the four substitute flight controllers replacing
those tragically killed at the gate of the Johnson Space Center,
Houston, Texas. His career at NASA had compassed a brief five
years.
Yet, he’d known the design of the Eagle II vehicle
intimately. It was a role akin to an understudy for a Broadway
play. Now, he was on stage, expected to perform his part
flawlessly.
Leaving his car parked behind the MCC, Building 30, he passed
the First Lunar Landing National History Marker, a five foot cast
iron placard mounted on a concrete backing. It had been planted
forty years prior to his employment. “Here men and women
served who assisted Neil Armstrong and Edwin Aldrin land on
the Moon, July 20, 1969.”
“Yes, those were the years of mission control’s glory. Much was
the same, but much had changed. The same name was given his
role, GUIDO, i.e., Guidance Officer. But since Shuttle days,
navigation and control had been added. The patriarch of
Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo flight control, Christopher
Columbus Kraft, had fashioned the name for his kind. The word
“guidance” captured the nature of the assignment, assure the
spacecraft’s guidance was working properly with respect to star
sightings, gyros, and computer navigation software.
Besides assuring proper hardware function, the job entailed
monitoring the spacecraft trajectory, handling course changes,
and establishing launch and landing "windows". Besides the
GUIDO, the RETRO and Flight Dynamics Officer (FDO of
FIDO) supported the effort. Nevertheless, the GUIDO now had
the added responsibility of knowing the status of the hardware
guidance systems.
Perhaps, the foremost GUIDO-type, Jerry Bostick, summarized
the job best…the GUIDO monitored guidance issues on board
the spacecraft once it got into orbit.
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Like any job’s substitute, whether a grocery clerk, auto mechanic,
brain surgeon, engineer, lawyer, or teacher, a review of the
former job holder’s duties was first in the learning process.
Though he had a general knowledge of all things GUIDO, his
specific expertise dealt with the Eagle II vehicle. Star sighting
for vehicle navigational alignment as well as what VERBS and
NOUNS to punch into the onboard guidance computer’s
keyboard made him sort of a piano-like virtuoso when it came to
GUIDO work.
Much of his skill came from studying archival information. He’d
come across a collection of interviews by former Apollo flight
controllers. Among them was an interview of Apollo 8’s Retro
Jerry Bostick. As the mission’s Retro, Bostick had previously
manned flight controller positions similar to the GUIDO’s. This
led Christopher Kraft to appoint Bostick as lead Retro of the
historic Apollo 8 Christmas Eve mission. That had been the first
journey of men to the Moon, not to land but orbit then return to
Earth.
The GUIDO especially related to Bostick’s recollections and
background. How Bostick ultimately became a flight controller,
though a Civil Engineering graduate from Mississippi, fascinated
the GUIDO. It was almost supernatural considering the unusual
circumstances which led Bostick to Houston. (See Author’s
Epilogue.) Bostick’s account, though “matter-of-fact,” had to be
guided by some kind of unseen hand. Perhaps, this GUIDO
needed the same measure of direction. The candid interview for
the NASA Oral History a score and ten years before served him
well. Bostick’s role as a youthful flight controller was much like
this 21st Century counterpart, Eagle II’s GUIDO..
Yet, among Bostick’s recollections were incongruous comments
dealing with that Apollo 8 mission. Of all things, the flight
controller had cited the influence of God in the success. Why
would anyone, leave alone, a learned RETRO and FDO, Flight
Dynamics Officer, cite such heavenly influence? The job dealt
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only with invariant laws of orbital mechanics. God had nothing
to do with it.
When the NASA historian had asked about Bostick’s recollection
that December 24th more than three score years past, he had
stated, “So, yes, orbital mechanics works…GOD WORKS. He
brought the Moon in exactly the right spot in the right
time…orbital mechanics works, and there has to be a GOD
because He’s doing his part…then when the crew started reading
from the Bible and relating this, ‘God created the heavens and the
Earth…”
The GUIDO found it remarkable that Bostick
attributed his success to God?
Besides the oral histories, the rescue of Apollo 13 served the
GUIDO as a practical tool for all things “guidance.” He’d
watched the Tom Hanks’/Ron Howard film a dozen times. With
each viewing, new facets of deep space navigation challenged his
thoughts. Once, he’d devised a means of positioning a stranded
Moon bound craft by sizing the relative diameters of Moon and
Earth through the onboard telescope. Because Apollo 13 had
counted on “seat of the pants” kinds of navigation methods, he’d
devised his own as exercises in planetary way finding.
The movie had been a wonderful training ground because, in
actuality, Eagle II’s systems and overall mission architecture
mimicked Apollo 13’s. Of course, lighter, stronger materials
comprised its structure and the power of semiconductors had
augmented onboard computer power a trillion fold.
Nevertheless, all the basic systems remained: electrical power,
environmental control, propulsion, caution and warning, and his
forte - guidance and navigation.
And, likewise, guidance
components were almost identical to those employed by Lovell,
Haise, and Swigert that April week in 1970.
Much the same as those flight controllers of yore, he began his
spacecraft anomaly forensics, analyzing vehicle dynamics before
and after the so-called meteor impact disabled the ERV. Using
Newton’s action/reaction tenets, this should confirm exactly
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where the meteor impacted the ERV based on data from the
accelerometers.
Using kinematics, concepts of angular momentum, and
rudimentary sketching of each thruster’s location and orientation
along with its firing profile would define everything about the
ERV’s movements before and after the incident. His art was so
precisely honed that he would be able to determine which of the
five crew members had been first to enter the lander prior to the
meteor’s impact. Their movements were related to mass, and he
had the recorded Earth weights of each man and woman of Eagle
II’s crew.
Though a surveillance vehicle in route to the ERV would reveal
the intimate extent of the destruction, his findings would predict
a correlation between meteor mass and velocity based on
movements of the ERV docked to the lander at the moment of the
impact.
Any flight controller worth his meddle must not rely on his
system alone for analysis. Like the human body, the spacecraft is
a maze of interwoven electronics, plumbing, gases, engines, and
humans. An incident so dire as a meteor strike would affect all
systems uniquely such that each told the story of the accident in a
different way.
He recalled the movie Apollo 13 and his subsequent examination
of the crew’s air to ground voice transcriptions. While flight
controllers wrestled with their console data, wondering if an
instrumentation malfunction was wrongly indicating a life
threatening situation, Commander Jim Lovell simply looked
through a port window into the void of space. He saw gas
vigorously venting from his craft.
Immediately, he knew the problem could not be blamed on faulty
instruments. It was an exploded tank! When flight controllers
reached the same conclusion, the crew was already on their way
into the rescue craft, the lunar lander. Such analysis by those on
board was usually superior to remote determinations.
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However, for Eagle II, no one was actually near the point of the
impact. Most were nearly through the tunnel into the Eagle II
base lander. All hoped that the damage was not so severe that the
ERV could no longer be used for the return. He would help to
confirm that issue. Should the damage be modest, the cost and
time factors would be significantly reduced.
The accelerometers confirmed that the impact had yawed the
vehicle
30 degrees counterclockwise. Then the thrusters
recovered control under orders from the guidance computer to
null out the gyro error caused by the massive meteor strike.
No GUIDO assigned a seat in the MOCR (Mission Operations
Control Room) wholly relied on dynamics data. Other system
clues often yielded altogether different results.
This had been
especially so with the Apollo 13 explosion. The crew wrongly
surmised a similar scenario, i.e., a strike by a meteor. Thinking a
hole might be in their lander, since none was found in the
mother-ship, they rushed to close the hatch between the vehicles.
“Surely,” they thought, “this would save oxygen from bleeding
through the meteor hole into space.”
Fortunately, Apollo 13’s crew couldn’t make the hatch to the
attached lander close. It would soon be needed as their rescue
ship. Actually, there was neither a meteor puncture nor hole. It
was an exploded oxygen tank in the mother-ship.
Perhaps, the same was true for Eagle II’s ERV, no meteor and no
hole. There was a way to confirm that…using the environmental
control system’s cabin pressure sensor.
Though some astronomers claimed no meteor existed, the
distance from their observatories would preclude a definitive
answer. Through his investigation, there might be a fool-proof
way of confirming or denying the meteor.
155
He had the data set attached to his e-mail request to the data
facility supporting mission control. Scrutinizing the pressure
levels during the time of the incident, he discovered that, yes,
there was certainly a hole. This was apparent based on the cabin
air pressure measurement. It had descended to vacuum level.
But what was most revealing was the way the pressure levels
ascended at the moment of the explosion before dropping to a
vacuum reading. It was no meteor at all. Worse, it was an
internal explosion.
Surely, at least, one of those four deceased flight controllers had
known. But why was it not recorded in the debrief notes from
that evening? That was when the dark thought came, “Perhaps,
that has something to do with their accidental death on NASA
PARKWAY? If so, he was now at risk of a like end. He, also,
knew the mission had been sabotaged.”
“What have you discovered?” asked the CapCom. “We need to
get ready for those coroners due here at 8:00 a.m. for Justin
Lewis’s autopsy.”
He PTT’ed his microphone and answered, “Whatever disabled
the ship had to be an anomaly, either a meteor or tank explosion
external to the crew quarters.” [This would mislead suspicious
minds from knowing of the discovery.] At any rate, he had better
watch his back. No one else would, except, perhaps, those who
meant harm to those four corpses on NASA Parkway.
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Moon Base Autopsy
“This is altogether ridiculous,” fretted Dr. Sigmour Burras.
“There is no value in performing an autopsy on a nearly ninety
year old man on a cadaver slab, a quarter million miles away.
Now, an operation on a live subject could be justified, especially
if the procedure called for a specialist. But my specialty is death
not life. As Houston’s Chief Medical Examiner (M.E.), I’ll have
an added title, Moon Base Coroner.”
Dr. Burras’ assistant shared such sentiments but added the
explanation, “It’s for some kind of insurance policy. The
underwriters insisted on our expert opinions verifying Justin
Lewis’ death.”
The Eagle II CapCom greeted the pair who had been escorted
into the MOCR by NASA security.
“Welcome gentlemen…I mean doctors…excuse me.”
“Let me introduce you to our Medical Officer Dr. John Starvo.
Dr. Starvo will explain Eagle II’s medical instrumentation used
to monitor crew vitality and general health. But, of course, in
this case, the lack thereof…at least for Mr. Lewis.”
Dr. Starvo began, “Imagine yourselves in the OR with the
cadaver Mr. Lewis alive not dead. The standard vital signs
readings and displays are replicated on my console, EKG, ECG,
body temperature, respiration rate, lung capacity, blood
oxygenation, etc. Added to these is a video display of Lewis’
body, from skull to foot.”
The coroner team was impressed with NASA’s thoroughness, but
the next comment from the CapCom was troubling.
“Unfortunately, over the history of manned space exploration,
crews have played mischief with the medics monitoring their
activities. Most remember the crew of Apollo 13 who became
quite aggravated with our sensors chaffing skin, and limiting
movement about the vehicle, then there was Schweickart
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vomiting during Apollo 9 which, of course, the crew attempted to
play down, and the Wally Schirra “medical mutiny” of Apollo 7
when the crew’s flu symptoms made them so irritable as to
ignore ground control’s orders. In each case, the crew devised
clever methods to thwart our medical surveillance.”
Both coroners were well aware of patients feigning health and
vigor to pass life insurance exams. Likewise, too many cases of
hyped-up injuries for litigation rewards had vexed their post
mortem investigations.
“Well, this requires you gentlemen to be altogether certain,
despite our limitations, that, indeed, Mr. Lewis is, in fact,
deceased.”
“Let’s begin your examination, immediately, by contacting Eagle
II’s onboard physician Dr. Mary Evers. She will serve as your
assistant coroner in conducting the space autopsy.”
The CapCom dispensed with all the air to ground protocol, the do
you read me Eagle II jargon and other communication banalities
which contributed nothing to the task at hand. He said simply,
“Good morning, Dr. Evers.”
Wasting no time, Mary responded, “Welcome to our medical
laboratory,” at the same time launching into the exam knowing
the quicker the better for Justin’s survival.
“Doctors, my assistant, Mohammed, will begin by attaching EKG
sensors to Mr. Lewis’ deceased body.”
As the coroners observed the real time video transmission of
Mohammed, Justin and Mary, the NASA Medical Officer
directed their attention to the oscilloscope traces of six channels
of EKG data. All six showed a flat-lined EKG. Removing the
sensors from Justin’s chest, Mohammed quickly attached three to
his own chest. Immediately those traces came to life scribing
across the screen a healthy waveform of approximately 72 pulses
per minute.
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The initial test took forty seconds of Justin’s five minute
resuscitation time limit. Both coroners entered in their vital signs
ledger the absence of heart beat.
Quickly, attaching those same sensors to Justin’s scull, Mary
adjusted the gain of the amplifier for the more sensitive ECG
signal. Following the same procedure, it was apparent that Mr.
Lewis’ brain showed no activity compared to the wave forms
generated when attached to Dr. Ever’s skull. With Test II
complete, ninety seconds had been stripped from Justin’s
resuscitation limit.
The Houston coroners expressed fascination with the NASA deep
space medical monitoring system. In less than two minutes,
Justin Lewis’ demise had been confirmed by
irrefutable
evidence. No heart beat…no brain waves…you have a dead
cadaver.
Fortunately, they neglected to ask for a body temperature
reading. Should they have, it would have registered
approximately 98 degrees.
However, unhappily, they asked Dr. Evers for added evidence, to
make a random laceration into the corpse’s chest cavity. Had
they asked for removal of a vital organ as evidence of death,
Mohammed’s rehearsed objection on religious grounds might
have helped. Instead, the coroners’ confirming evidence dealt
with a random scalpel cut into Justin’s chest.
At once, Mary Evers’ face became ashen.
She spoke, “Doctors, I’m not a surgeon though I’m prepared to
fulfill your request.”
The chief examiner explained, “I’m asking to confirm rigor
mortis has set in, sure evidence of Mr. Lewis’ demise.”
Mary looked upward from Justin’s white frocked torso, whose
chest remained exposed from the EKG test. Mohammed’s eyes
met hers.
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His countenance was troubling…”The man is grinning, as
though happy that Justin is about to die.”
She became enraged, thinking, “It’s Mohammed’s religion. He
sees Justin as an infidel deserving execution by scalpel.”
They must not delay the request. Should the laceration wound
Justin in a non-fatal way, time remained for resuscitation. The
countdown was moving into the fourth of the five minute
window.
Mohammed spoke, “Sirs, please let me perform the cutting for
Dr. Evers. Though she is not trained surgically, my knowledge
of farm life well qualifies me for such. You see, I often
butchered livestock for my father as a boy in Syria.”
Mary was aghast, her eyes pink with rage, her fist clenched.
“That will be fine, Mohammed,” agreed the assistant coroner.
“Get on with it. We must be attending to duties at the Harris
County Morgue. The drive is at least 45 minutes, and we must be
in our whites by 9:00 a.m.”
Mohammed had expedited the cutting. The operation had begun,
actually, more than a modest cutting, it was a most terrible
confirmation that the coroners witnessed. Instead of the modest
random incision, it was a major extraction, Justin’s heart.
In less than a minute, the chest cavity lay open as Mohammed
reached for the Aorta with his scalpel.
“Enough!” responded both examiners simultaneously,
Mr. Lewis is altogether a dead man.”
“Indeed,
After signing the death report, the coroners were escorted from
the Eagle II MOCR by the same security officer who had brought
them. The process of confirmation was over.
It had taken
slightly more than five minutes.
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The Dream
What better verse to embrace than - “In the last days, your young
men shall see visions…your old men dream dreams.” [Acts 2:17]
Certainly, this qualified the situation in two respects. I was
certain that we lived in the latter days, i.e., the return of Christ for
His believers was imminent. That was my hope, and a good deal
of what motivated me to help the others survive. Only those who
embraced the simple formula for making that final trip
heavenward would launch. Paul, despite his heady knowledge,
had put it simply, “If thou shall confess the Lord Jesus with thy
mouth and believe in thine heart that God has raised Him from
the dead, thou shall be saved.” [Romans 10:9].
Once a work colleague, a believer in Christ, had asked, “Justin,
you are an avid Bible reader. Is there a verse which defines
salvation?” I cited Romans 10:9. Though he, too, was a
Christian believer, he was not aware of such a definitive and
altogether simple explanation of the plan of salvation….(1)
Confess Jesus as your Lord and (2) believe wholeheartedly that
God had resurrected Him from the dead.
Nevertheless, the first part has one word besides Jesus which is
important to that confession. It is the word LORD. A LORD is
someone you trust and obey.
But about that latter days Scripture. It has old men dreaming
dreams. Once, I’d had such a dream. This, I judged to be
supernatural, i.e., sort of a vision-like dream. Yet, I wasn’t an old
man. Instead my years numbered no more than 30. Then, it had
been more than sixty years in the past. Compared to the moment,
it was less the latter days than the present.
At the time, I’d been under a spiritual attack, mental and
physical. I’d been fighting a bout with hypertension. Exhausted,
I collapsed on my bed hours before my usual time for a night’s
rest.
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So vivid was the experience that the scene was impossible to
forget. Whether awake, asleep, or in a visionary state, I couldn’t
tell, except that suddenly my spirit and mind ascended in a
progressive way, like a launch for the Moon. Remarkable about
the experience was that I possessed complete peripheral vision.
All things were in view, the Earth below, the Moon, the stars.
I rose through the ceiling into the night sky. But failing to enter
low Earth orbit I continued to ascend, passing the Moon, ever
upward toward the stars. I sensed I was being transported in the
Spirit to that place I’d encountered in Scripture, the Book of
Revelation, the New Jerusalem, where Jesus Christ dwelled at the
right hand of God the Father. And…then, I returned. The vision
or dream sort of faded away into a dim consciousness which gave
place to being wholly awake.
Paul spoke of such an experience, some kind of spiritual transport
into what he called the third heaven. For him, it was so
revealing and moving that he could not speak of it. My thought
about Paul’s experience was captured in a verse he wrote quoting
from the Old Testament: “Eye has not seen nor ear heard… the
things that God has prepared for them that love Him.” [I Cor. 2:910] Perhaps, his visit to that third heaven confirmed that remark.
But I was now definitely experiencing a dream. It was induced by
the slumber drug ministered by Dr. Mary Evers. It had slowed
my metabolism to the point of apparent death.
Yet, my dream meant I was alive, or was I?
Surely, I must be alive based on the promise of “being absent
from the body was being present with the Lord.” The Lord Jesus
was not in my dream at all. Besides, even those whose dreams
had, as they testified, taken them into His presence, had returned
to share their experience.
But what was troubling about this dream was the often told
experience of those who had been resuscitated from the onset of
death.
That was happening to me, at least in my dream, an
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intimate mental autobiography from earliest experience to the
moment I felt the injection by Mary Evers. The remarkable detail
was supernatural, just as those who claimed it was. It was sort of
a mental computer dump, a purging of all those accumulated files
deposited since birth.
And then, came a recurrence of that dream/vision of ascent into
orbit. Only this time rather than looking peripherally about me,
my spirit vision only viewed my lifeless body, accompanied by
Mohammed and Mary. Though I could see and hear them, a type
of paralysis wholly incapacitated my response.
Helpless, I
listened and watched:
“How did you do it, Mohammed? How did you get them to
cease the autopsy before you cut into Justin’s chest with the
scalpel?”
“Watch the video monitor replay of the autopsy,”
Mohammed.
answered
Mohammed fast forwarded to the onset of the requested scalpel
incision.
At that very moment, Mary viewed a skillful incision
into the subject’s chest cavity. No practiced heart transplant
surgeon could have more deftly opened the sternum than what
she observed on the monitor’s display. As the scalpel posed to
sever the aorta, Mary heard the Houston coroners’
pronouncement.
“Enough!”
Mohammed explained,
“What they saw was a substitute scene I transmitted to the
MOCR in Houston. It was a video clip contained in our data
base provided by the University of Texas Medical Branch near
NASA in Galveston, Texas.
The title was: Autopsy Procedure for Human Heart Extraction.
The cadaver was among those who willed their bodies to
medical research. If we ever succeed in our attempts at rescue, I
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want to find the name of that man whose body saved our lives.
His family needs to know that he did not die in vain. Perhaps, he
saved us.”
“For now, let’s work to assure he saved all five of us. Justin may
not be among us, if we can’t resuscitate him.”
Of course, Mary had already injected the slumber drug’s
anecdote the moment the Houston coroners spoke the words,
“Enough!”
At that moment, the elapsed time of my unconsciousness had
been five minutes and fifteen seconds. It was altogether
uncertain if I could be revived. Simultaneously, Mohammed
properly positioned the electrode paddles to shock-start a heart
whose rate had descended from once per five minutes to nothing.
Clearing the vicinity of the cadaver table, Mohammed pressed the
actuator button and shouted,
“Live Justin!”
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Survival of the Fittest
It had been less than half an Earth day since the last
communication with Eagle II by Rescue One’s rover crew.
“Being always in the sunlight is starting to bother me,” fretted
Sid.
“Valerie, you’re a mountain climber. What do you suggest?”
“Well, when we faced a ‘white-out’, the best course was to
fashion a crude protective shelter.”
“What did you use?” asked Sid.
“Any material available.”
Sid looked about the defunct rover’s terrain.
“I see no material to build anything with: no trees, no scrubs, not
even loose Moon rocks. We’ve got nothing to construct a shelter.
Ugh!”
Valerie responded, “Sid, a whiteout is a blizzard-like storm blowing, whipping, stirring snow from the ground and the sky.
No one knows how long it will last so whatever shelter is built
has to last until rescue comes. And that can be days, even
weeks.”
Again, Sid surveyed the Moonscape.
“There is a whole lot of dust…I mean Moon dust.”
That gave Valerie an idea.
“Our best shelters were built from a type of Earth dust. The snow
served as a building material. By digging into it and stacking it,
one could construct a ‘snow cave’. This protected the occupants
from the wind. Likewise, it was insulation, keeping our body
heat from escaping.”
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“Perhaps, this Moon dust can be molded into a protective mound,
shadowing us from the Sun rays. I don’t know, but let’s, at least,
try it.”
Sid pushed the Moon dust, trying to fashion a mound or some
kind of a sand castle. Immediately, the dust collapsed refusing to
stick to itself.
“Sid, the only shelter we’ll have is the descent stage of the lander.
It’s still reachable on foot.”
Looking toward the Apollo 16 site, he replied,
“Yes, it is Valerie, indeed.
That’s our building supply depot.
We can fashion our Rescue I base using its parts as construction
materials.
Perfect!
In fact, we might be able to cannibalize that descent stage into a
lunar base. It might be able to sustain us as well as Eagle II’s
base. It’s got everything we need, even a direct audio link to
Earth.”
“Wonderful!” exclaimed Valerie.
Sid concluded, “This has got to be a historic irony. In the study
of American History, the account is told school children about
the first colony in the new world. It was called La Navidad
because the materials to construct it appeared on Christmas Eve.
That was when Columbus’s mother ship, the Santa Maria, ran
aground.
The Santa Maria’s destruction off the coast of a Caribbean
island provided the wooden beams and supplies for a fort. The
ship’s crew became the first colonists. Let’s name our base Fort
ORION, in honor of Apollo 16’s lander.
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Likewise, given that Eagle II is sort of a first Moon colony, we’ll
be the second colony planted in the New World of the Earth’s
Moon.”
Though Sid knew the rest of the historic account, he chose not to
share it with Valerie whose knowledge of American history was
sketchy. When Columbus returned to La Navidad, a year later,
every one of the colonists was dead. Indeed, that was not a good
omen to consider.
Nevertheless, it was important to communicate their status to
Eagle II’s remaining crew of Justin, Mohammed and Mary. It
was then that they learned the good and the bad, the assessment
of the MOCR coroners and the near death condition of Justin.
But included in the threatening report on Justin was an equally
ominous message to them. Apparently, though a plan was being
conceived to rescue Eagle II, there was an ominous threat to Sid
and Valerie. An urgent warning from Mission Control reported
that a devastating lunar meteor storm was imminent.
With the threat of perishing on the Moon, none of the five
doomed souls had given much thought to meteor storms. Yet,
they should have, especially because of launching the Eagle II
rover into the exposed lunar “outdoors.”
Since Apollo days, much more was known about the dangers of
particles bulleting through space, either from the Sun’s fierce
surface disturbances or meteors traversing the Cosmos. Most felt
that those original Moonwalkers had simply been “lucky” in
avoiding them. The surface EVAs were of limited duration as
well as the entire mission. But Eagle II and especially its rover’s
exposure was an altogether different situation.
Though Eagle II’s design adequately sheltered the crew from the
most awesome storm, Sid and Valerie might as well have been
wearing “street clothes” as far as being able to survive the solar
or meteor storms predicted by mission control’s astrometeorologists.
167
The art of foretelling solar storms and meteor showers was much
improved from the days of Armstrong and Aldrin’s Moonwalk.
In fact, these predictions equaled meteorologists’ ability to time
and date the landfall of a Texas Gulf Coast hurricane. The
“killer event” would occur with 80% certainty within twenty-four
hours. Had the rover not been disabled, Sid and Valerie would
have safely returned to Eagle II by then.
Now, the situation had become altogether grave. It was not
simply to shield themselves from sunlight that motivated the
construction of Fort Orion. It was surviving a “Perfect Meteor
Storm,” one due in less than twenty-four hours according to
Earth’s astrophysicists.
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The Earth Return Rescue Vehicle
Not since Verne’s 1860s classic Round the Moon has a stranger
story come forth. Though in this case, it was not a story but an
earnest endeavor to salvage four lives. These four celestial
voyagers were stranded on the Moon, at the former site of
mankind’s first landing. Already, one life was thought to have
succumbed to the rigors of the mission. Added to that tragedy,
four of the original flight controllers met death just a few yards
from the space center where they had valiantly served in behalf
of Eagle II’s crew.
But, as with all hardships, good had come forth after the initial
difficulties. Even the Earth’s gravest enemies were allied in the
rescue. NANA’s Potentate and the Consortium’s leader, the
President of the United States, had pledged cooperation and every
available assistance in bringing the crew home safely. Despite
the feared NANA suicide-sites, a promise of détente akin to that
of the Cold War came forth.
However, the treaty would be in force only until the Eagle II
crew safely dwelled once more on planet Earth. This freed the
recovery forces from concern should the Eagle II capsule’s
reentry corridor go amiss landing the crew in NANA territory.
But the greatest cooperation came from international corporations
and military entities. The armies, navies, and air forces of the
Consortium acted in a fashion reminiscent of the Allies during
the final stages of World War II. Russia donated an upgraded
Proton booster of sufficient power to loft the kick stage of the
ERV into low Earth orbit. Rendezvous was to be at the
International Space Station.
While most scoffed at the generous deed as simply a selfish ploy
to save their “beloved” Cosmonaut Valerie, China’s donation of a
similarly upgraded Long March rocket received only praise. The
Chinese program had grown vigorously in the past decade so that
their booster could loft the ERV’s service module into a docking
orbit for rendezvous with the Russian kick stage.
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But most impressive among the contributions was that of the
Japanese Space Agency NASDA. Not only did they provide
rocket boost for the return crew-reentry capsule, they also
volunteered a Japanese astronaut to accompany the rescue vehicle
so that the complexities of automated control would not be
needed. This would eliminate much of the cost of designing,
testing, and manufacturing the crew return vehicle.
However, the operative approach was to upgrade the original test
model of the ERV crew capsule which did include both manual
and automated operations.
The overall program planner, i.e., the management of the rescue
mission remained the Consortium’s American space agency
NASA. Mission Control in Houston would continue the role it
had served as the mission operations team for Eagle II’s original
mission.
Of course, many in the media likened the rescue to Apollo 13’s
experience. Nevertheless, the protracted time allowed for
authoring the ERV’s mission procedures was years compared to
the few days those 1970s flight controllers had. Those
modifications, adaptations, and tests were accomplished in less
than a week’s time.
As the lead GUIDO, he was charged with following all facets of
the EAGLE II REBUILD PROGRAM, NASA’s name for the
project.
To that end, he familiarized himself with the performance
specifications of the Proton, Long March, and Japanese boost
rockets.
Yet, his greatest knowledge must deal with potential
guidance system malfunctions, and, more importantly, how to
overcome them.
He reviewed the major control anomalies from spaceflight
history: Neil Armstrong’s “runaway thruster” on Gemini Eight
which should have made Buzz Aldrin first on the Moon rather
than a dead Neil Armstrong. The blasting mini-rocket wouldn’t
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cease firing. This caused the two man capsule to spin like an
amusement park horror-ride.
Finally, Armstrong shut the system down, ending the peril. Then
there was Scott Carpenter’s hapless operator error which caused
his one man Mercury capsule landing several hundred miles off
course. Fortunately, for Eagle II’s reentry, a like error wouldn’t
end in death at the hands of NANA’s potentate. He had pledged
cooperation.
Reading the chronological account of guidance and control
challenges in NASA’s experience brought him to the Apollo era
of the latter 1960s. Apparently, a computer switch, left prelaunch in the wrong position, caused Cernan and Stafford’s
surprised shouts and exclamation on Apollo 10. Their lander
virtually did an unexpected “flip” into the preset position.
“Always assure the crew verifies switch settings in the check list
prior to any engine firing,” was his thought.
Finally, he reviewed Apollo 13’s experience. It was unique in
the history of GUIDO challenges. So unique and complicated
that he would cease for now. Its control challenges were the
most Eagle II-like. He’d have to devote more than a few hours
to understanding them. That would come later.
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Fort Orion
Looking to the southeast, Sid’s view of the Apollo 16 lander
Orion’s descent stage made the craft look more like an Eagle’s
nest than a former spaceship. The concave hollow of the nest
once cradled its pair of human eagles, John Young and Charles
Duke. The crew, encapsulated in the lander’s ascent stage,
rocketed Earthward leaving a four legged “kludge” of tanks,
wiring, plumbing, and most importantly, thermal clad outer
aluminum panels. This exterior armor had well protected the
bird’s innards from the ravages of solar/meteor storms for the
past sixty years. The golden exterior shined brightly in the bright
light of the overhead star, Earth’s sun.
Actually, the thing reminded him of the fort he’d built his sons
the first summer in Clear Lake. The lander’s ladder was about
the length of the fort’s wooden ladder with only a few more rungs
to climb. Should he survive, he’d enjoy sharing the thought with
them. “How Dad’s fort resembled Orion.”
”But enough of these thoughts,” he scolded himself.
“We have an awesome challenge, more formidable than
Columbus faced adapting Santa Maria’s bulwarks into
construction materials.”
Those fifteenth century explorers had to disassemble the ship
piecemeal then carry the parts on shore. In like fashion, would
Sid and Mary need to trek multiple times to Orion, a two mile
journey, cannibalize panels and parts then tow them the same
distance back to the rover. They must build their Fort Orion in
much less time than Columbus constructed La Navidad. Less
than two days remained before the lethal meteor storm.
It was a Catch 22 dilemma, an immobile rover with ample
oxygen, water, and nourishment but naked to the onslaught of
killer meteor particles. Though the Orion might serve as shelter,
beneath its descent engine bell, they could not survive there
without oxygen.
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They had but two alternatives: 1) Dwell under Orion until
depleted breathable oxygen required a return to the rover, a four
mile round trip, or 2) remove Orion’s body parts and fashion the
Eagle II’s rover into a protective meteor storm shelter. Fort
Orion would have ample stores of oxygen, water, food, and
electrical power for a long term stay.
“Build Fort Orion!” was the decision both Sid and Valerie agreed
to pursue. There was no alternative. Being in route for more
oxygen at the moment meteor projectiles struck would be fatal.
Somehow, enough shielding had to be stripped from Orion’s
structure, carried several miles and erected into a cubicle
covering the rover’s frame. Within could Sid and Valerie wait
for bombardment from above. It would be akin to building a
Cold War bomb shelter in the back yard, then entering the
excavation at the first warning of surveillance radar.
Sid selected the tools he’d need, strapping them to his suit’s tool
harness. Among them were cutting shears, a socket wrench
assembly, an adjustable vice grip-like device and a unique
contraption most would have ignored – a lifting elevator screw.
Valerie had been watching, “Sid, don’t lug that thing with you.
It’s cumbersome, heavy, and probably won’t serve any useful
purpose.”
Sid was already in route and ignored Valerie’s suggestion
thinking, “Valerie is not the one to make the decision. I’m the
mechanical expert. Hopefully, she can help as an apprentice
journeyman, handing me tools, stacking parts I remove from
Orion, and most importantly, assisting the transport back to the
rover.”
After an hour’s trek, Sid stood beneath Orion’s descent stage and
looked up. He realized the extensive challenge.
The needed
thermal protective panels were out-of-reach requiring a ladder for
removal. The only option was to scale the lone ladder leading to
that staging platform. Apollo astronauts had used the platform to
prepare for stepping onto the top rung of the ladder. From there,
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those pioneer Moon men could descend, ultimately, setting foot
on the Moon’s surface.
Deftly, Sid mounted the ladder and knelt into position with his
suit’s knee pads resting firmly on the platform. This was the
same stage on which Duke and Young had stood long ago.
Valerie looked upward. Sid was kneeling eleven feet above the
lander’s foot pods. Already, his cutting shears were searing into
those gold clad aluminum panels. The cannibalization of Orion
had begun.
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Live Justin!
Among the greatest disappointments I’d experienced as a
Christian were instances of Christian friends succumbing to
illnesses. This was especially so when fervent prayer had lifted
heavenward in their behalf. I’d been on the sending end of such
intercession but rarely on the receiving side. Sadly, while I never
accepted the idea that God helps those who help themselves, I
did adhere to the idea that God heals those who pray for
themselves. Yes, there were occasions when I sought the prayers
of others, but generally, I was silent in that respect.
Only three times had I interceded in the presence of a semiconscious dying believer. The first opportunity happened when
an elderly woman member of my Methodist Church lay near
death in the Clear Lake Hospital. No one knew of my visit to
her bedside. There, I prayed in Jesus’ name for God to extend
her life. She was obviously not aware of my presence, i.e., I
guessed her to be in a coma. I think her name was Grace. And
God did send forth His grace in Jesus’ name. In a few days, she
had fully recovered and was back at Church. But what amazed
her family was her recollection of my visit.
She had been unconscious, or, so all thought. As near as I was
able to tell, she seemed to think I was some kind of angelic
messenger sent by Jesus. Though she knew it was me, she
attributed to me some kind of divine quality. This embarrassed
me. Nevertheless, as a result, I’d come to believe in that
Scripture, “Always remember to entertain strangers….who may
be angels unawares.” I was Grace’s angel unawares.
The second instance involved a wealthy and most successful
businessman who lived across NASA Parkway in an upscale
neighborhood called Nassau Bay. He had been diagnosed with
terminal lung cancer in its last stages. I visited his bedroom the
last hours of his life. Again, I prayed but the result was not the
positive outcome Grace had experienced. He passed a day later.
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But what was so impressive dealt with his assurance of the joy of
heaven. Whether in or out of a dream-like consciousness, he was
describing a scene very real to him with the words, “What
royalty…what majesty…what unspeakable finery.” He marveled
as though he were in the court of a King.” It was during the time
when the Gospel song The King is Coming was very popular.
What my dying friend saw was himself coming into the presence
of King Jesus. His confident words increased my faith in the
knowledge that, indeed, God had prepared a wonderful place for
our eternity with Him.
Then there was my mother’s passing. She called after receiving
the doctor’s pronouncement of her dire situation, liver cancer.
Perhaps, she would survive several months at most. During the
phone call, I cried uncontrollably, wanting to express all the love
I’d felt for her but had never expressed it.
An unexpected trip opportunity brought me home in the early
stages of her treatment. Though I expected to see her again, I
remembered the morning I departed for Houston. Somehow I felt
an urgency to pray for her. Despite knowing of her faith in
Christ, I was disappointed in myself to have left without prayer.
The disease advanced swiftly so that in a few weeks she was once
more undergoing treatment. My sister shared how she died. It
was in the late afternoon, at the hospital. Suddenly, my mother
spoke, “Susan, I’m going to die today.” Of course, seeing no
visible evidence that this could be, my sister scoffed at my
mother’s suggestion. She offered encouragement and assurances
to the contrary. A moment later, she left the room. When she
returned, she found our mother had passed into the presence of
Jesus. God had given my mother the knowledge that she would
soon be with Him.
Certainly, my flat-lining experience might result in meeting Mom
today. However, He’d not given me the same message she
received that evening decades ago. I’d read those Scriptural
accounts of resurrection, Elijah reviving the widow’s son, Jesus
bringing forth Lazarus from his tomb, and Peter’s prayer for the
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deceased disciple Dorcas. “Tabitha arise!” In each case, prayer
had resurrected the dead. “Why hadn’t I been faithful to pray for
my mother?”
But then, I heard it…almost the same words voiced by Peter,
“LIVE JUSTIN!” And, at once, I was conscious. I, like the
widow’s son, Lazarus, and Dorcas returned to the living. But
those words, “Live Justin,” had to be more than words of resolve.
They had to be mixed with faith in Jesus’ power. If faith had
been absent, my journey to my mother by way of Jesus would
have been completed. But whose faith was it? Certainly, not
mine, I was enjoying the journey. “Was it Mary’s, Mohammed’s,
or, perhaps, both?”
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A Kindred Spirit from the Past
The Starbuck’s e-mail had worked! The world-wide media
confirmed the success. A rescue was in work. But what was
behind the plot to strand Uncle Ivan’s niece Valerie and her
crewmates on the Moon? He must investigate further should
those in charge once more attempt to kill Eagle II’s crew.
Dealing with such a conspiracy from the streets of Moscow was
too great a handicap. Somehow an insider was needed, a mole in
Houston, someone working the mission, a flight controller,
perhaps, or better yet, an agent like himself who was intimate
with the workings of NASA and this mission. But who might
that be?
He visited the archives of the former Moscow Municipal Library.
Mounting the stairs leading to the Cosmonaut Leonov Papers, he
thought, “How greatly had espionage research changed from
those KGB days! One must avoid Internet searches. Only dogeared antiquarian volumes were safe. Electronic surveillance
could not hope to discover him as the perpetrator of this
research… the hunt for an American spy from papers of long
since deceased Russian spacemen.”
Again, it was Uncle Ivan who had sown the seed which would
plant an undercover agent in Mission Control. “He, being dead,
yet speaketh” was how a KGB fellow agent had phrased it. Ivan
had encrypted a message of sorts in his friend’s memory just
prior to Ivan’s death in that hospital room. He had voiced it in a
whisper after his request to look after Valerie. In barely audible
volume, he had said, “Never forget these two names in the
context of the Soviet/American International Docking
Mission…Alexei Leonov and Ed White.”
He had not forgotten. For that reason, Leonov’s 1975 Diary of
Reminiscence was before him, opened to the date of the
coordination meeting Ivan and Alexei Leonov had attended in
Houston, Texas. Though both Leonov and Ed White had been
the first respective “space-walkers” of their nations, by 1975,
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they had not been contemporaries. White had perished in the
dreadful Apollo One fire eight years before. The Ed White Ivan
alluded to was another with that name…and there he was!
Indeed, an Ed White was among those listed in attendance at a
splinter meeting. It dealt with the orbital rendezvous of the
Apollo Command Module and Soviet Soyuz. This Ed White had
been the lead GUIDO for that mission, a half century in the past.
Somehow, Mr. White had talents, influence, or knowledge which
Ivan knew would be useful for protecting his niece Valerie. But
what were they?
Having accomplished the paper identity search, he could now
safely pulse his KGB network for a fill-in dossier concerning Mr.
White. This historic intelligence, like Soviet plans for beating
Americans to the Moon, had been published openly following the
collapse of the Iron Curtain in the early 1990s. Actually, in the
former Soviet legislative affairs building, now resided a tourist
attraction,
THE
MUSEUM
OF
INTERNATIONAL
ESPIONAGE. PHD candidates regularly perused its data base.
These “wannabe” doctors of all things politically secret could
footnote archaic, long forgotten, incidents in the annals of Cold
War espionage. He would do the same, not as an academic, but
as a rescuer of his friend Ivan’s niece. The simple entry of the
name Ed White in quotes along with the unquoted words
international docking mission led to an altogether revealing
finding:
“While most believed that the Soviet KGB learned much from
visits by NASA technologists to the Soviet Union for the
purposes of technical coordination, few knew of similar efforts
by the KGB’s counterpart, the American Central Intelligence
Agency (CIA) for espionage purposes.
Among Americans who played dual roles, NASA and CIA
employment, was Mr. Edward White, not to be confused with
Colonel Edward White, the first American to walk in space
during the Gemini Program of the 1960s. Mr. White’s role was
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discovered, a decade after his death in 2010.
a son and his brother’s daughter.”
He is survived by
While the entry explained Uncle Ivan’s relationship with Mr. Ed
White, the GUIDO, it told nothing about how or who, on the
American side, might protect Valerie. That would be up to him
to investigate further. Certainly, a query about the son and niece
must be done, as well as others whose contact with Mr. White
might have led to a career in espionage.
But, like the defunct KGB, the CIA, likewise, was no more.
However, many believed a similar underground of former Cold
War agents existed.
“And well they should,” he thought.
“Were it not for both of us, KGB and CIA, the sinister operations
of NANA and the Consortium would have been altogether more
threatening and unchecked.”
It always amazed him how intimate Americans were with their
forebears. One could Google search any of their family lines,
which they called family trees, for a network of links almost
back to Adam and Eve. So it was no difficulty finding Mr.
Edward White’s son, Edward White, junior. Unfortunately, like
his father, he, too, was deceased. He had died of natural causes
long since that entry in the archives of the Moscow espionage
museum.
Yet, the niece’s background and her present pursuits were most
interesting. Unmarried, she had studied Aerospace Engineering
at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology with minors in
political science and astronomy studies from that prestigious
bastion of American universities. Even more interesting was her
post graduate employment. She had matriculated into a NASA
career with the Langley Research Center in Hampton, Virginia.
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The word “Langley” wholly aroused his interest. She worked a
stone’s throw from the former site of the American CIA! Then
came the ultimate revelation. Presently, she was assigned to
NASA’s Johnson Space Center as an astronaut trainee, and her
assigned specialty was guidance and navigation. Astronauts.
Astronauts in training often served as Capcoms.
Even more astounding was that some felt, despite her newness to
NASA, she might have been selected for the Eagle II mission.
Because of her age and experience, Dr. Mary Evers had been
selected rather than astronaut in training Jennifer White.
But how might he contact Mme. White? Certainly, she knew
nothing of the conspiracy.
He only hoped that she had
clandestine contact with
former CIA agents, her uncle’s
protégées. And, of course, that she would be an ally should
added threats to Valerie and her crewmates ensue. Yet, knowing
the integrity and devout faith of Uncle Ivan, he was sure she
ultimately could be counted on should events call for help.
However, there was more to be investigated than having an
insider in the MOCR. Somehow, he believed that the reported
death of the philanthropist Justin Lewis was suspect. The news
media spoke of Lewis as an Uncle Ivan type of Christian
believer, the type whose zeal for his faith might lead to
martyrdom. Had Lewis taken his life so the others might be
rescued?
The clandestine KGB network had ascertained something about
an insurance policy on Lewis. The policy payoff was a triple
indemnity should Lewis’ death be confirmed. Additionally, it
was confirmed that…these were the funds needed to launch the
ERV rescue. Without them, there might not be a rescue.
Besides assuring help from Jennifer White, the financial channels
for the rescue’s paymaster, that insurance payment, must be kept
open. In this regard, he was much better equipped. His day job
was the insurance adjustor for the International Resource
Exchange, known as the InReEx or IRE.
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The agency was unique among claims adjustors. He, along with
his colleagues, possessed policing powers which required
carrying a fire arm. While their clients, underwriters for the
world’s natural resource mining interests, had little to do with
insuring space missions, the same kinds of scams and
conspiracies vexed their actuaries. A loss of a richly producing
Siberian oil field by the hands of a pipe-line terrorist was, of
course, a justly adjusted settlement. But, if that terrorist, was a
member of the insured’s petroleum distribution team, a hand gun
might help protect an adjustor investigating the site of the pipe
fracture. Millions upon millions of dollars were at stake, either
way, as a legitimate or bogus settlement.
Actually, insurance adjustors were not unlike construction
estimators. Whether predicting the cost of a bridge across a
tributary of the Ural Sea or the cost of building the next Russian
booster rocket, the job was the same. Simply put, estimates
based the future on the past. The estimate was based on: (1)
What was the inflation rate since the last project, and (2) what did
similar projects cost at that time?
So it was with claims adjustors. The scams were alike. Usually,
some kind of providential happenstance meant a payoff, whether
a meteor impacting a spacecraft or an Earthquake destroying a
mining operation. So that should the meteor be actually an
onboard bomb detonating, or, similarly, the Earthquake, really a
thousand pounds of dynamite exploding, the adjustor would
determine if it be fact or fraud. At any rate, adjustors like
himself had often earned their lifetime salaries by uncovering one
criminal act. Was Justin Lewis’s death fact or fiction?
And that’s how he became involved with the MOCR and Jennifer
White. Because of his background in manned space research
during his days with Ivan, he was an ideal consultant for an
investigation of Lewis’ lunar demise. Likewise, because one of
the crew members was a Russian, his expertise was valued. His
offer to contribute to the investigation was quickly accepted. He
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would participate, in Houston, as the adjustor assigned the Eagle
II investigation.
“What an irony”, he thought, “no one is aware that I was the one
responsible for reporting Lewis’ death because of Valerie’s
message. Now it’s my official duty to confirm the evidence
gathered by those Houston coroners assigned the deep space
autopsy. Should it be a fraud, I will nevertheless do everything in
my power to perpetuate the autopsy as legitimate.” And that he
would do so that the funds would flow from the coffers of the
underwriters into the engines of space industry. Preparation of
the preliminary design of the Earth Return Vehicle was now in
work at the Johnson Space Center.
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Spacecraft Forensics
“Houston, We’ve Had a Problem!” Now, it was his problem, only
six decades after that April 13th evening in 1970. Initially, his
types, the flight controllers on station that evening, grasped at
that first explanation all chose in such moments. It probably was
a malfunctioning instrumentation system.
This was no different than seeing a car’s dash-panel red coolant
light. If the engine continued to run normally, the light had to be
the problem, not the absence of radiator coolant. From the
perspective of a quarter million miles, he understood the
handicap faced by Gene Kranz and others that night in the
MOCR.
But, at best, they were “back-seat-drivers”. It was the crew who
drove. As the vehicle’s operators, they heard the thump-like
muffled sound of the exploding liquid oxygen tank number two,
felt the shimmer of the vehicle, heard the compensating firing of
the thrusters, saw the two amber master alarm warning lights, and
most telling of all, looked out the port window at a vapor stream
venting into space.
So it should not have been surprising that Lovell and crew
realized how dire the situation before the MOCR. Yet, even the
astronauts, initially mistook the explosion for a meteor bursting a
hole in their lunar lander. Actually, it was an onboard explosion
in the bowels of their supply ship, the Apollo service module.
Therefore, it was no surprise that Eagle II’s crew reacted before
the MOCR flight controllers. However, the explosion’s cause
was yet undetermined, a meteor or onboard source. The
surveillance probe sent to investigate had returned days ago.
However, its findings had been impounded. Only those four
deceased flight controllers had been given access to its content.
His requests to review their findings as well as the actual
printouts of instrumentation data versus time were denied. The
justification was: “Why waste time and manpower on a failure
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which can not be fixed. We’ll send another ship. Nothing can
be gained from a forensic examination. There is no chance
another meteor will strike the replacement ERV.”
And that was when he met Astronaut in Training Jennifer White.
She would be the Capcom for the rescue mission. Both, he and
Jennifer, had gone to the computation computer center requesting
the same data. Both were guidance and navigation experts, he, a
flight controller, she, the astronaut guidance specialist. Both had
been exasperated by the decision to impound the surveillance
probe video data.
He had seen Jennifer White previously during the mission
simulations prior to the launch of Eagle II. He’d been a backup
GUIDO. She had the same role in support of the Capcom, i.e., a
replacement for the lead Capcom. Over the course of the sim,
his assessment of her was positive as far as her competence,
professionalism, and communication skills.
However, even more impressive was her appearance…far too
attractive for a female astronaut!
He would not have
acknowledged that to her, but his interest led to an online search
of her astronaut bio. These had existed since the days of those
first Mercury Seven astronauts. Their bios were prepared by the
NASA Public Affairs Office. Then, the content had included,
besides the military, educational, and extracurricular narrative,
information about spouses, children, parents, and even pets.
In the ensuing years, failed marriages, an occasional tryst, and a
few post-NASA unsavory activities led to the content being
sanitized.
Generally, spouses, children, and bios of non-active
astronauts were no longer included in official NASA biographies.
But this had not discouraged the space “groupies” from posting
such information. It was easy finding that Astronaut White was
twenty-eight years of age, unmarried and a graduate of
Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Also, that her father,
mother, and brother were deceased.
Among the anecdotes
recounted on one “groupie” web page was a quote by Jennifer,
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“My love of astronautics came from my deceased Uncle Ed
White. No, not astronaut Ed White, but the NASA guidance
expert Edward White who contributed to the 1975 Apollo-Soyuz
team.”
Therefore, on their first meeting, he did not feign ignorance of
her background but honestly addressed what they shared in
common. Both were GUIDOs.
“Hello Astronaut White. I’m the assigned flight control GUIDO
for the rescue mission. It’s good to meet you, especially because
I know of your interest in space guidance and navigation.”
He hoped his smile was professional and hadn’t betrayed how
very attractive she appeared to him.
“This is pretty inconvenient, not being able to review the
surveillance probe data…but I guess there are good reasons,” he
added.
“And good to meet you as well,” she responded. However, the
look on her face was quite professional. Yet, it did not agree with
his “guess there are good reasons” conclusion.
“Well, since
we’ll be dealing with the same systems, maybe you’d like to join
me in reviewing the ERV data prior to, during, and after the
damaging incident?”
She responded, “That would be good…even if we have no
information from the surveillance probe, the ERV telemetry will
shed light on what happened.”
“Yes,” he said, “I’d begun looking at the downlinks from that
period a few days ago. The telemetry shows some very
interesting interactions when all the measurements are correlated.
I’ve come to some tentative conclusions and would like your
thoughts on them.”
At once, he wondered, “Could she be trusted? My findings
weren’t conclusions. They were better classified as suspicions.
It appeared as an act of sabotage.”
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What made him conclude they should confer was her facial
expression. Being refused the surveillance probe data had
obviously made her suspicious as well. Somehow, he knew this
troubled her as much as it did him. Together they would be a
much smarter and stronger team to analyze what went wrong.
Likewise, they could thwart a like recurrence, if it had been a
conspiracy. Besides, some kind of bond might evolve beyond
the professional one. She was very attractive!
Though the rescue ERV’s design was not complete, it was almost
identical to the original vehicle. Knowing this heightened his
distrust of those who had impounded the surveillance probe data.
Because of the similarity in design, there would be no suspicions
of his intent on more study of the incident which destroyed the
first ERV. His added requests were posed as an attempt to
understand whether the descent/ascent craft had been damaged.
Actually, he sought to know how the vehicle had been sabotaged.
This, he believed, would lead to whom was responsible and why.
From his office adjacent to the astronaut administration building
at the space center, he called Jennifer White. Perhaps, she would
accompany him to the mission evaluation room, the MER for
short, now located in the same building as the MOCR. He
neglected to share his motives except to cite the same
justification given the data bank clerk – to understand the impact
on the crew descent/ascent spacecraft. This would not implicate
Astronaut White in his undercover scheme.
They met at the secure entry door in the lobby of Building 30.
“You go first Astronaut White,” he suggested, encouraging her to
slip her entry badge into the slotted digital reader.
“I’m Jenny to my friends. I want you to be a friend as well as a
colleague. Okay?”
“Of course, Jenny,” he agreed as the door unlatched responding
to her badge’s approval.
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Under his arm, he held a six inch thick book of computer tabbed
listings of telemetered data at the time of the ERV explosion.
“I’ve reserved a cubicle adjacent to the MER. It’s quiet and has a
table where we can layout pages of the ERV measurement data
for correlation.”
For assorted reasons, he believed it best to do nothing
electronically, not even the passing of an e-mail exchange.
Simply reviewing printed numbers for “eyes only” study would
leave no trace of their investigation.
This space forensic
deposition would have them as court judge, jury, and reporter.
The only exhibit would be the half foot thick printout of a
thousand measurements taken at tenth of a second intervals over
a period of thirty minutes time.
First, he recounted his findings regarding the pressure buildup
emanating from the location of the incident. Jenny agreed that it
was obviously an onboard explosion in the vicinity of the crew
quarters. Then came that moment of revelation. The same
thought he had experienced…
“Do you think it was on purpose, i.e., someone on board set it
off?”
How he answered would set their course…which side they would
be on…the conspirators or those who truly wanted the Eagle II
crew rescued. He answered,
“Jenny, seeing your reaction to the impounded surveillance probe
data led me to ask you to meet with me for this review.”
He closely watched her expression and body language as he
spoke,
“I am almost certain there was a conspiracy which caused the
destruction of the ERV. Knowing that was the case, I don’t want
you to become involved unless you believe the same.
More
importantly, whether you do agree or not, I am certain there
exists a threat to those who pursue the investigation.
188
What I am trying to say, a bit
right now, if you do not want
than a loss of employment or
believe it has to do with the
those four flight controllers.”
clumsily, is that you ought to leave
to be at risk. This is much more
failure to be assigned a flight. I
accident which took the lives of
Her expression grew guarded but slowly morphed into one of
defiant resolve. When he had concluded, she uttered the words.
“Yes, I accept. We are in this together wherever it leads.” She
continued, “Actually, that’s why I asked for a transfer to Johnson
Space Center from Langley. You see, I’ve been following the
course of the Eagle II program from the beginning. I’ll only say
that my purpose has to do with another Langley Agency besides
NASA. I can’t say more except to assure you I will do
everything possible to save the lives of the Eagle II crew. Let’s
begin with this data.”
189
Another Witty Invention
Slowly, Sid placed the one square yard panel into Valerie’s
extended hand. Thankfully, everything about Apollo 16’s lander
Orion was light. The two story vehicle’s dry weight, i.e., without
fuel, weighed but nine tons, and most of that was the rigid
framework useless for building Fort Orion. But the Orion’s
epidermis, its skin, would be life saving to Valerie and Sid. And,
like that of the human body, it composed a small percentage of
the total body mass.
Nevertheless, besides the emasculated thermal panels, some kind
of structure need be fashioned from the Orion’s skeleton, i.e., it’s
bones needed to be a framework supporting the rover’s
transplanted skin. What could he use? Certainly, Orion’s four
legs besides being impossible to disassemble were far too
massive for carrying two miles.
After removing a dozen square yards of thermal paneling with
Valerie’s help in stacking them neatly at the foot of Orion’s
ladder, Sid dismounted and walked slowly around Orion’s
descent stage. Directly behind the vehicle, Sid tripped over
something hidden beneath accumulated Moon dust. The gravity,
being a sixth of Earth’s, protected Sid’s suit from impact damage
with the hard lunar regolith.
Aggravated, Sid reached beneath the collected lunar soil for the
obstacle. It was an attachment strut which had held the lunar
rover against the lander during its journey to the Moon. For
some reason, it was detached from its remaining counterparts.
These would be excellent support struts for Fort Orion’s tent of
survival.
“Valerie, bring me the socket wrench set. I’ve found our tent
frame. It’s the lunar rover’s stowage arms. I can unbolt them.
One tripped me up. Fortunately, my suit didn’t rip and leak.”
The collection of panels, their removal and stacking, as well as
the unbolting of the frame struts lasted several hours. The suit
190
oxygen gauges showed an hour remained before mandatory
recharge.
It was Valerie who made the decision, “Let’s go Sid. We can
come back. There’s enough time.”
Transport proved more challenging than the collection process.
Three trips transported all the panels and construction struts for
the Fort Orion’s meteor storm shelter. However, even more time
consuming was the building of the structure. To attach the panels
snugly in place, a kind of spot rivet/sewing procedure proved
laborious. Using awkward space-suit EVA gloves was not easy.
No seamstress faced a more difficult task than Valerie and Sid.
Finally, exhaustion drove the pair to hook their suits to Eagle II’s
rover’s direct oxygen supply, pull their helmet visors down into
the extreme shade position, set the alarm timer for six hours
sleep, and float off into slumber, regardless of the threat of a
meteor storm.
When the alarm sounded, the eminent storm was yet six hours
away. Time remained for still one more visit to Orion for a last
cannibalization of their Apollo 16 benefactor.
With aching
muscles, Valerie did not relish another two mile trek to Apollo
16’s lander. But Sid had an idea which he refused to share with
Valerie except to say it might be the best he’d had since landing
on the Moon. Too tired to argue, Valerie agreed to accompany
him, despite her fatigue.
In the shadow of the Orion’s descent stage, Sid revealed his
revelation. “Valerie, bring me the screw lift I brought the first
trip we made.”
“Where is it Sid?”
“I placed it behind the lander ladder, on the concave side of the
front landing pod.”
“One thing, for sure,” thought Valerie, “nobody would have
moved or hidden it on the Moon.”
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“Where do you want me to bring it?” asked Valerie. “Over
here…next to the Apollo 16 lunar rover.”
Sid kneeled next to the rover’s rear fender reaching toward
Valerie.
“Watch this, Val,” Sid proudly proclaimed.
Placing the upper jaws of the screw lift around a longitudinal bar
of the rover’s structure, Sid began cranking the lever arm in
jack-like fashion. The lift’s mechanical advantage elevated the
rover. At the same time, the jack’s base dug into the lunar
regolith. The simple machine acted in the same fashion as it had
served mankind’s mechanics for centuries on planet Earth. It
benefited Sid and Valerie as it had assisted stage coach riders,
Indy 500 racers, and chariot drivers for the past two millenniums.
As though Sid commanded a surgical team in a hospital’s ER, he
barked out orders to his nurse Valerie,
“Socket set please.”
Soon, Sid had removed not one but a pair of Apollo 16’s rover’s
tires.
“You lug one, Valerie. I’ll carry the other. Let’s go…only a few
hours before the storm.”
Most people have not experienced a hurricane, a tornado, a
typhoon, or tidal wave, but absolutely, no one had previously
experienced the devastation of a meteor storm on the Moon. Sid
and Valerie were the first such victims. While it was true that
Justin, Mary and Mohammed would also qualify, it would not
equal the exposure of these two occupants of Fort Orion. Only a
superstructure of
lunar lander struts and thermal blankets
shielded them from certain death.
The pelting missiles struck the panels with a lightning-like
vengeance. Each dart of meteoric mass met regolith with such
velocity as to explode the lunar dust into an array of
192
encompassing powder, forming a cloud surrounding Fort Orion.
The windless environs mercifully kept the sheltered pair cleansed
from the worst of the powdery fragments, but obliquely striking
particles sent portions of the lunar soot into their hiding place.
After a half hour, the storm ebbed, leaving sort of a moat of
Moon dust piled a half foot high around the perimeter of Fort
Orion.
Seeing the result, Valerie spoke, “Without Fort Orion, we could
not have survived.”
Sid added, “True, but look at our rover’s solar panel. It’s a
casualty which no claims adjustor is going to repair. All we have
left are our fuel cell reserves. They are not renewable energy
sources, Valerie. We are going to have to return to Eagle II, if
we are to survive.”
Now came that something which had changed Sid’s thinking.
“Valerie, what’s your definition of Providence?”
Before Valerie answered, Sid added,
“I always thought it was something supernatural that was
supposed to happen whether you planned it or not…kind of a
God-like circumstance. In my Sunday school class, they spoke of
it as God’s grace, something you didn’t deserve but got anyway
because God loved you.
“There’s our Providence.”
Sid was pointing at the pair of lunar rover tires brought back to
Fort Orion before the storm.
“With them, we live. Without them, we die. Thank you God!”
At once, Sid placed the screw jack beneath Eagle II's rover's
damaged front wheel. Next, he jacked up the frame and removed
the damaged wheel assembly with the socket wrench. Then be
bolted the repaired axle in place and attached the lunar rover’s
193
tire/wheel assembly. But, he wasn’t yet finished. Removing the
jury-rig rear assembly of fender and wheel, Sid performed
another “tire change” with the wheel Valerie had carried back
from Orion’s lunar rover.
Lastly, Valerie assisted Sid in taking down the tent-like shelter
over the rover’s chassis. Orion’s struts and panels would remain
near the Apollo 16 lander for yet another visit by future lunar
explorers.
“Thank God, Eagle II’s rover was a modest upgrade of the
original lunar rover design,” was Sid’s parting remarks before
taking the driver’s seat.
He would not use the path retrace guidance program back to
Eagle II. He’d learned a profound lesson about foolishness in an
unforgiving environment.
The lone difficulty was the slightly smaller circumference of the
Apollo rover’s wheels compared to Eagle II’s.
But by
continuously applying a slight yaw pressure to the steering yoke,
the problem was solved.
Only the odometer was slightly confused so that the programmed
return guidance system path would have erred. Over the return
course, they would have missed Eagle II by more than ten miles.
To compensate, Valerie adjusted her log book entries based on
the modified odometer values contributed by the presence of the
smaller diameter tires. As for judging heading, that had not
changed. The gyros guiding Rescue One were the same as
before.
The cross Moon pace was excellent, often exceeding ten miles
per hour. There would be plenty of fuel cell power. No
contribution from those defunct solar panels was needed to span
the distance. Soon, Eagle II would be in sight.
No longer imperiled, Valerie and Sid initiated a status call to
Eagle II. Hopefully, Justin had survived. Of course, such radio
194
exchanges were not detected beyond several hundred miles. The
range of both Eagle II and Rescue One’s transmitters had
purposely been restricted. With that knowledge, Dr. Mary Evers
spoke freely, announcing the good news of Justin’s miraculous
recovery. In fact, she spoke as though it had been some kind of
Biblical event, not unlike a resurrection from the dead.
195
The Post Mortem
Sid was definitely changed by the trip to Apollo 16’s landing site.
I sensed it was more than appreciation for our team’s ability to
launch a rescue using the lunar rover. It was a spiritual newness,
an obvious rebirth of some kind which even Mohammed noticed.
“What happened Sid?
Mohammed.
You seem so very different?” asked
Remarkably, our Moslem teammate made no objections but
listened intently as Sid shared everything – the miracle of the
fender repair, the unique ways God instructed him to build Fort
Orion from lander Orion’s descent stage scraps, finding the
buried rover strut, the witty invention of the lunar rover tires
needed when the meteor storm had destroyed Rescue One’s solar
panels.
No longer was Sid a self-reliant Marine. Henceforth his reliance
would be on God. He finished by speaking to me, “Justin, I fully
understand what you had shared about the rescue of Apollo 13
changing your life.”
“Our rescue from Orion has changed me, but there’s something
more, but I don’t exactly know what it is or how to get it.”
“Sid,” I responded, “that’s how I felt after experiencing those
Apollo 13 miracles during April of 1970. I knew there was
something more but not how to find it.
How about if I visit you in your cubicle later? You obviously
need a rest as does Valerie. Both of you have had an exhausting
four days. Get some sleep, and we’ll talk about your questions.”
Sid retired to his personal quarters as did Valerie, leaving only
Mohammed and me in the stateroom. Mary, too, had chosen to
retire for a period of sleep.
Mohammed was smiling…
196
“What is it, Mohammed?”
I was confused about the look on his face.
“You don’t need to talk to Sid, Justin. I will. But before you
object, let me speak.”
“Yes, I was selected for the Eagle II mission as an ambassador
for the Muslin faith. However, my religious teachers required I
take a course in comparative religions: Hinduism, Buddhism,
and, of course, Christianity.”
“My studies revealed each had their founders and revered holy
men – Gandhi, Confucius, and Jesus Christ.”
“Of course, none were thought to challenge the holiness of our
prophet Mohammed, my namesake. He alone heard from our
Allah, our supreme deity.”
“Knowing you would accompany the four of us motivated me to
especially examine the tenets of your faith. This led me to
carefully study the focus of your faith, the New Testament and
especially Jesus, all his acts, sayings, deeds, and teachings.
Likewise, I endeavored to understand his effect on those who
believed in him. I sought to understand to what extent they
continued in his word as his disciples. The reality of their faith
was wholly proven in the book of Acts.”
“While I found much of what I read incredulous, much was
altogether convincing. And so we launched together for the
Moon with mutual respect for one another as spacefarers but
convinced that our belief was the true faith.”
“My difficulty with what I read of Christ and his disciples came
from my knowledge of those who professed the same faith I read
of in Scripture. Many had less zeal for their God than my fellow
Moslems had for ours.”
197
“We prayed more, often exhibited more morality in matters of
sexual purity, at least I thought we did. So, I was content in the
superiority of my belief.”
“Until, I encountered you, Justin, and, not what you said…You
never attempted to proselytize me.”
“When you accepted my statement that I had not planted the
bomb, I felt a oneness with you though I did not believe in your
God, i.e., His Son Jesus Christ.”
“But I was always observing how you truly wanted all of us to
live regardless of our religious beliefs…whether we believed in
Christ, believed nothing, or as I believed as a Moslem.”
“And, of course, I began to recognize the unique and convincing
ways your God was answering your prayers for all of us. He was
not simply favoring you. He was demonstrating his care and
concern for all.”
“And then came your revelation about your death giving us the
opportunity for life, for rescue, to see our families once more.
Justin, you became my Jesus, my savior when you laid down
your life for that autopsy, knowing full well you might die.”
“When I saw the flat EKG, suddenly, I realized what Jesus had
done for me. Like you, He had died in my place so I could be
forgiven. All that I’d read about His suffering on Calvary, His
resurrection, His love for me, at once was very real.”
“I whole heartedly believed it, and when I’d managed to deceive
those Houston coroners, I was so very happy about your
survival.”
“But you weren’t recovering. You’d gone beyond the five
minute life limit. I knew you had died. FOR ME!”
“That is when my moment came. I found that which Sid is
searching to know, the something more.”
198
“I said, actually, in my mind, ‘Oh dear Jesus, I so need you in this
moment. I renounce my dreadful sin of rejecting you. You are
my God. Allah is not. Be my Lord and only Savior.’”
“At that moment, when I looked down at your dead body, sorrow
overwhelmed me, and I began to weep.”
“It was then that I spoke those words with every bit of faith a new
convert could muster.”
“LIVE JUSTIN!”
“And my Savior Jesus answered my first prayer in His name.
You are alive. Praise the Lord!”
At once, both of us began to weep, embracing one another as
brothers in Christ.
“You talk to Sid, Mohammed. What you have so simply and
honestly shared would be far more helpful and convincing than
anything I could hope to say. I’ll be praying for Sid’s heart to be
changed by Jesus, our Lord, just as He changed yours and mine.”
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Another Star in Heaven’s Crown
Mohammed and Sid entered the stateroom where Valerie, Mary,
and I sat around the planning table. Sid spoke first,
“Justin, Mohammed showed me what was missing, that thing you
found after Apollo 13’s rescue. I’ve got it now. Jesus Christ is
my Lord and Savior. We prayed together…what a great
experience!”
Both Valerie and Mary appeared puzzled by Sid’s remarks
compelling me to speak. Actually, I addressed Sid, not the two
women. I simply wanted them to hear as disinterested onlookers
rather than addressing them directly. In that way, no one would
feel pressured to make the same decision both Mohammed and
Sid had in accepting Christ as their Lord and Savior.
“Sid, I just thought of something I promised to share with you
when you and Valerie initially reached the Apollo 16’s Orion
lander’s descent stage.”
“What was that, Justin? I’ve forgotten.”
“Remember that picture you found in the Moon dust? What was
in the photo?”
“The image was pretty light but as much as I could tell it was of
four people, two adults and two children. I guessed it was one of
the Apollo 16 astronaut’s families.”
“I remember being very disappointed that I’d not brought a
family picture with me. In that moment, I’d suddenly felt very
lonely for them, and especially sorry for not honoring them as
that Apollo Moon walker had his loved ones.”
“Well, Sid, don’t feel too much guilt. I knew the man in the
photo. He was a friend of mine, the tenth man to walk on the
Moon, Astronaut Charlie Duke. The picture was of Charlie with
his wife Dotty and their two sons.”
200
“I say, don’t feel too guilty.”
“Why do you say that, Justin?”
I continued,
“Because though Charlie had honored them with the photo beside
the Moon lander, he failed to be the kind of husband and father
that would preserve his marriage when he returned to Earth.
“By their account, he and Dotty were destined for the divorce
court. I heard it told later at a Christian Businessmen’s meeting I
attended across from the Johnson Space Center.”
“Charlie came to call his talk…WALK ON THE MOON WALK
IN THE SON. As a matter of fact, as a result of what you have
experienced today, you could give yours the same title.”
“How is that?”
“The spelling of the word is not SUN as the Earth’s sun but SON,
as God the Father’s Son, Jesus.”
“Let me explain why Charlie chose the name SON rather than
SUN: After returning from the Moon, his marriage was in
shambles. His home life had slipped so that after a hard week as
an astronaut, he spent weekends drinking and socializing, not
being a father to his sons, or the kind of husband he should have
been to his wife Dotty.
In fact, they lived like single people within their home. From
outward appearances their marriage appeared a success, but,
inwardly, it was a disaster, each doing their own thing as though
there was no marriage.
Frustrated, Charlie quit NASA hoping to make a fortune in the
business world. Though successful money wise, he remained
wholly unfulfilled, empty and puzzled.
Then, his wife Dotty found something that changed her to the
extent that she no longer saw Charlie as her answer to life’s
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fulfillment. He had been replaced by a relationship with Jesus
Christ as Dotty’s Lord and Savior. She encouraged Charlie to do
the same.
Driving home from a Bible Study one night, Charlie couldn’t get
Scripture out of his mind. As he stated it, ‘All at once, I had to
make a decision. Either Jesus Christ was the Son of God, or He
was not.’ Then, he turned to Dotty and said, ‘There is no doubt
in my mind. Jesus Christ is the Son of God.’ As a subsequent
result, Charlie brought thousands of men and women, boys and
girls into the same relationship he had with Jesus Christ as the
Son of God.”
“Sid, should we survive, you will have the same opportunity. I
remember Charlie regularly visiting the space center for his
annual physical exam. Though he had long since retired as an
active astronaut, on each return visit, he would speak to the new
astronaut corps, those in training. Not only would he tell of his
experience of walking on the Moon and driving that lunar rover,
he never failed to share the story I’ve just told all of you. He
walked on the Moon but found what was more wonderful,
walking with the son of God, Jesus Christ.”
“I’ve said, enough, for now. If any of us are to share anything
about our experiences with Eagle II, we have first got to survive.
Where do we stand with regard to the rescue ERV?”
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Rescue Plans
The Eagle II Recovery mission would launch from the former
pad 37, at Kennedy Space Center. The larger more complicated
Pad 41 had launched the original Eagle II. But that spacecraft
had included so much more mass. Only a replacement ERV
would blast off from pad 37. However, adapting the ERV to the
upgraded Titan IV with the Orbital Transfer Vehicle (OTV)
stacking proved complex. The OTV served the same role as the
Saturn S-IVB, the final stage rocketing Duke and Young on their
lunar journey.
The ERV posed the least difficulty. A test version of the original
vehicle existed at the Johnson Space Center in Houston. All it
lacked were the avionics needed to guide the rescue craft into
lunar orbit for docking with Eagle II’s ascent stage. That was
Astronaut Jennifer White’s and the Flight Control GUIDO’s
specialty, avionics.
The original ERV had a novel flight control system, an advanced
autopilot, software formulated during the latter days of Shuttle
Operations. It was unique in having the capability to blend any
combination of thrust effectors into the control equations for
pitch, roll, and yaw. A rudimentary description would be a “seat
of the pants” steering program. As such, it could integrate a
fourth of July bottle rocket with quads of orthogonal control
thrusters positioned around the cylindrical perimeter of the ERV.
He described it to Jenny in this way, “Imagine you are
bicycling down NASA Parkway and someone has attached a
small solid rocket to your rear fender. But there is a problem.
You have no knowledge of the direction of its thrust. Obviously,
if pointing rearward, the blast would simply accelerate your
travel forward, in line with your selected course. But what if the
thrust is directed toward the center of NASA Parkway? The
blast would rotate the bike about the center of gravity turning
your course into the line of traffic, perhaps, ending your life.
203
However, your brain would immediately compensate by rotating
the handle bars right, compensating for the yaw introduced by the
rear rocket. The Advanced Autopilot (AAP) has software which
does the same thing. Regardless of where, when, in what
direction or force, a thrust effecter fires, the guidance system
keeps the preset course selecting opposing thrusters judiciously.
It serves the same function as your brain. Had the Advanced
Autopilot controlled the ERV at the moment of the explosion, the
perturbations from the blast would have been minimal as long as
the reaction control system’s thrusters remained operational.”
Jenny responded, “I’m familiar with advanced autopilot
algorithms. We studied the technique at length during my
guidance training at the NASA Langley Research Center in
Hampton, Virginia. In fact, I always believed it to be superior to
those “look-up” tables Apollo and Shuttle used. AAP is a
marvelous way to avoid “run-away” thrusters from threatening
the crew like that stuck jet nearly killed Neil Armstrong on
Gemini 8.”
“Wow, Jenny did know her guidance!” he thought.
However, neither knew how useful the advanced autopilot might
be.
Another departure from the original ERV craft was the inclusion
of a seven person inflatable Coast Guard Class survival life raft.
Because grave concern remained, despite NANA assurances, an
ocean Apollo-like splash down was chosen. Some believed a
landing in any of those NANA nations would trigger a hostage
situation. An ocean landing would avoid such peril. The
initial
plan included a land landing near Houston, Texas. Reentry
systems had progressed significantly from Shuttle/Apollo days.
Not much risk was involved in prescribing specific runways in
cities and countries about the Earth within the north/south reentry
latitudes.
204
Nevertheless, the paranoia had risen since the Eagle II launch. It
would be an ocean splashdown. The Consortium navies were
altogether preeminent. In fact, NANA had no navy.
Jenny and the GUIDO discussed the ocean landing. Jenny’s
thought seemed most logical, “If the conspirators choose to fowl
up reentry, bringing the crew down in NANA territory, both of us
will be on station. We can readily override their efforts.”
He added, “And we would have to do so. The impact of a land
landing would destroy the capsule. A splashdown is altogether
less stressful. The heat shield system has a reduced much weaker
structure consistent with an ocean splashdown. The reduction in
heat shield weight was required by the addition of the life raft.
However, the entry chutes will deploy as before, three in number
and according to the original timing sequence.”
And that led to a sobering thought. “What if someone alters the
timing, having them reef early. They’d tear away and fail to
cushion the splashdown. It would be fatal in the same fashion as
the Columbia and Challenger crews perished on impact with
either the burning atmosphere or the ocean.”
The GUIDO thought about that, “I think I’ve got a fail-safe
solution. We both will be involved in the simulation of the
reentry. The sim software is identical to the operational load.
Assuming the ops program is going to be tampered with, I can
run a pre-launch comparison, bit to bit. If the operational
program deviates, I’ll have my trusted colleague in the backroom
load the simulation version. That way we can be assured no
software glitch destroys the rescue ERV on reentry.”
He thought about the types of failures which had been fatal over
the course of the manned flight program. Likely, a conspirator
would choose a like scenario to avoid suspicion.
Actually, the
explosion aboard the original ERV was a crude act of terrorism,
not subtle at all, i.e., readily detected by those who knew the
spacecraft intimately.
Probably, the next try would be a
magnitude more clever. As a result, he thought of a study he’d
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performed on likely Criticality One mission events. CRIT ONE
was the designator for a fatal malfunction.
The greatest CRIT ONE percentage occurred during launch or
landing. The least likely, on orbit or in route to or from the
Moon. Apollo 13 was an exception. But Challenger and
Columbia were in the bell of that bell-shaped accident curve
predicting space fatalities. Actually, both would be classed as
launch fatalities. Columbia’s fatal damage came from fuel tank
foam piecing the leading edge of the orbiter’s wing. That hole
had come during launch.
But the ERV rescue ship would have no crew on board during
launch. As a result, he and Jenny, likely, could relax their
vigilance during that phase. This left reentry as a likely time for
introducing a fatal flaw. The discussion about the land versus
water splashdown made this very apparent. Extreme vigilance
must be exercised during the final hours of the Eagle II rescue.
Their discussion had been wholly professional. Yet, he couldn’t
help but be drawn to Jenny’s attractiveness. Added to her
appearance was a terrific outgoing personality, unpretentious and
winsome. A simple smile from her made anyone who met her an
instant friend. He doubted that she’d ever had a boyfriend
despite having all the traits a boyfriend would appreciate. She
simply had a no-nonsense way of dealing with people, including
himself.
It happened by accident that he asked her for what some called a
“date.” Neither of them saw it as such though it was to a movie,
in fact, a potential double feature. The lavish evening would
even include dinner, though a modest one, and she would pick up
the tab.
It began with his question, “Jenny, how many times have you
seen the movie Apollo 13?”
“Probably, a dozen times or more.”
206
“But have you ever really studied it…I mean analyzed every
challenge Jim Lovell and his crew faced from a mission
operations perspective?”
“I don’t think so,” Jenny answered.
“When I first joined the NASA Johnson Space Center team as a
NASA Co-op, one of the mixer events was a showing of the Ron
Howard/Tom Hanks movie in the actual MOCR where Gene
Kranz and his flight controllers dealt with the rescue.”
“That must have been neat!”
“Yes,
but more terrific was having Gene Kranz and others who worked
on the rescue present. They discussed the movie’s scenes from
actual experience.”
]“Wow!”
“The first time I saw the film I failed to examine it from a
GUIDO’s perspective, but since then, I’ve rerun clips countless
times trying to understand all the potential alternatives faced by
Lovell and his crewmates.”
“Much of what I’ve learned about mission anomalies comes from
those viewings and what-if games.”
“I know where the PAO (Public Affairs Office) guys have
shelved the Apollo 13 HD-DVD in the historic MOCR. How
about going over there and watching the movie with me from that
perspective, tonight?”
“We’ll miss dinner,” acknowledged Jenny.
“No problem, they have a flight controller’s feast of junk food
machines outside the MOCR entry door for visiting tourists.
Only one problem, I only have a pair of $20 dollar bills, and the
changer takes $5s and $10s.”
Jenny checked her billfold.
“Dinner’s on me. Let’s go.”
207
While Jenny collected their food stuffs among the offerings of
snack food poisons, he activated the digital MOCR center
display and launched the mpeg-8 version of Apollo 13 in DVD
HD resolution.
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Apollo 13 and Eagle II
(Note: The narrative of this chapter as applied to the Apollo 13
rescue is deemed non-fiction by the author. Comparisons to
potential destruction of the ERV Eagle II Rescue Craft are
fictional.)
“Jenny, I’m going to step through the movie using the DVD’s
fast forward, pause, and chapter selection menu. I’ll be skipping
scenes which deal with personal issues in the movie plot as well
as social interaction among the movie’s characters. What’s left
are the issues that might affect Eagle II’s rescue. It’ll help us deal
with problems the conspirators might throw at us.” Jenny
had
begun writing notes about their analysis of the rescue of Apollo
13.
“Actually, NASA produced a film long before the Hollywood
version. It was altogether less technical and realistic. We could
watch it as well, but I don’t think it offers much.
What is really remarkable though was another movie about
Apollo astronauts stranded in space. It was released a few
months before the rescue of Apollo 13. The movie starred
Gregory Peck and Gene Hackman. Its name was Marooned. I
think we should review it, as well, because events in that story
paralleled Apollo 13’s rescue even though the film was fiction.”
“This is going to take some time…the Marooned movie isn’t
here. I keep it in my office for review. It’ll be another time for
it.”
He clicked the wireless mouse on the second scene, the launch of
Apollo 13 on April 11, 1970. The content showed an engine
alarm going off on the display panel. One of the five second
stage J-2 engines had shut down. The movie deftly portrayed the
exchange between the astronauts and controllers in the MOCR.
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He commented: “What you see there looks pretty innocent, one
of five engines failing. Most saw it as such. Actually, the real
story was that the engine was pounding up and down like a
journeyman’s jack hammer. It should have broken free from its
support structure causing the entire second stage to explode.
Apollo 13’s launch escape rocket couldn’t have saved the crew.
Likewise, such a launch failure would end all hope for rescuing
Eagle II’s crew. A malfunctioning booster rocket which failed to
put the ERV in orbit would be disaster. There would be no
chance of assembling another booster and ERV in time for the
rescue. In that respect, I guess we can’t assume we can ignore
sabotage during launch.”
Jenny asked, “Why didn’t the engine break loose?”
“That’s one of those mysteries about Apollo 13. There were
many incidents like that one. To this day, they are unexplained.
Some called it luck, others God’s Providence, and, yet a third
group assigned answered prayer as responsible.
This one had to do with some kind of inexplicable overpressure
in the engine compartment which caused the shutdown. After
watching the Apollo 13 movie, I reviewed mission control,
onboard, and post mission crew transcripts. I came to the same
conclusion: that one or all three explanations are responsible.
Unfortunately, I think Eagle II’s crew is going to need all three as
well.”
Jenny was silent, thinking about how impossibly complicated
their task was. There were thousands of combinations and
permutations which a nefarious evil doer might attempt.
Then, she got an idea that might work better than the GUIDO’s
review of Apollo 13 and Marooned.
“Let’s approach this another way. This approach is related to
how we quickly dealt with computer viruses in our data lab at
NASA Langley.
210
Rather than check each string of software code, we only reviewed
alterations from the last time the computer operated. If nothing
had changed, we were confident no mal-ware had infected the
data system. Only the routines which had a different bit buildup
in the memory were examined. The idea came from an
innovative Israeli computer virus search program dating back to
the 1990s.”
The GUIDO responded, “Hey, you do have something there.
The trick will be how to establish what the normal situation was
in order to check the changes.”
He continued, “If they would have used your idea on Apollo 13,
Lovell and crew would have avoided lots of grief. In fact,
Lovell and Haise would have gone down in space history as the
fifth and sixth men on the Moon.
With Apollo 13, everything was nominal except for the way the
oxygen tank two behaved during de-tanking of its contents after a
routine test. If more care would have been given that anomaly,
the entire explosion would have been avoided. The tank was
suspect and should not have been used.”
“Well, if we follow the path of my idea, we have got to establish
expected performance for the booster, the ERV Rescue
Spacecraft, test and flight controller activities during the
mission.”
The GUIDO concluded, “One thing is for sure. We need to fully
understand what’s going on in the pre-mission final training
simulation, especially with guidance. Somehow, I believe that
will be where the conspirator will strike.
I’ll go no farther with the movie except to suggest we review
what happened on reentry as well as one of the return to Earth
engine firings. Both have to do with guidance challenges we
might encounter should your approach fail. “
211
He didn’t voice a troubling thought he got at that moment, “What
if there is no sabotage, i.e., the life ending problem is actually the
result of flawed manufacture or procedure development. All
mission failures had been a product of that kind of thing rather
than a conspiracy. Only the Eagle II mission had been the
exception.
On the other hand, such might be premeditated if incompetent
people were assigned crucial tasks. It would be akin to a dentist
performing a heart transplant, a novice software programmer
becoming GUIDO or some other mismatch of talent, having the
talent-less performing a crucial task. He had better review the
backgrounds of those who would man key MOCR roles in the
Eagle II Rescue.”
He changed their discussion to lighter subjects.
“Jenny, have
you visited the electronic game room beside the control center
cafeteria? It stays open all night. There are sandwich machines
there as well. The space station controllers need an around the
clock restaurant which is really a complimentary name,
considering the stuff they serve.
The idea for the game room is based on quick response to life
threatening spacecraft anomalies. All the games are based on
former mission simulations, employing displays which replicate
the MOCR consoles as well as the spacecraft display and control
panels. It’s only eight o’clock.” “I’d love to except that I have a
WETF (Weightless Environment Training Facility) wake-up call
set for 5:30 a.m. tomorrow. Let’s do it another time.”
Watching her walk to the parking lot, he wished he’d opted for
the astronaut support corps in the WETF. But working with
Jenny as the mission’s lead GUIDO was fine too. Who knew
what might develop between them?
Another was also watching Jenny. That person had the same
thoughts as the GUIDO, however, from a perspective that called
for sending an encrypted message immediately.
212
Arch Conspirators
A clandestine exchange was concluding between Salik Akema
and William Conders. It was the first since their agreement to
execute the rescue mission. Apparently, Conders was beginning
to waver in his resolve to save the remaining four crew members.
Akema adamantly refused to abate the plan with these words,
“Conders, your problem is freedom, too much of it. Let me tell
you, you are not free to abort our agreement. Should you, in the
slightest way, interfere with the rescue, I will not only reveal
your part in the bogus insurance policy but threaten the Masada
response. Believe me, Conders, being a potentate is much easier
than dealing with presidential impeachment. I will survive the
storm, but you will face federal imprisonment for the rest of your
life. No Gerald Ford will come forth in your behalf. My subjects
expect such of me, but yours will not be so forgiving.”
Conders was silent for a moment considering Akema’s forecast.
Then he spoke, “Salik, how can we be altogether certain Lewis
is deceased? Yes, the coroners signed an affidavit, but what if
the Eagle II crew somehow faked the autopsy.”
“I suggest you not worry about that, Conders. We are at this very
moment investigating your concern. Did you not know, NANA
has its agents hidden among your countrymen, even at NASA?
You call them moles. We can them foxes. They are sly. They are
agile and quick. Most importantly, they are ruthless, just as a fox
is quick to devour its prey. Already four of your citizens have
been their dinner.”
“My god, Akema, you and your kind are evil.”
“No, Conders, not evil, vigilant and clever in the ways of your
patron saint Machiavelli. From the moment you suggested this
plot, he became your god. Welcome, on board my dear
brother.”
213
“If it will comfort you, a like accident which took those
unfortunate four is being planned for Eagle II’s rescue. I’ll not
divulge its details except to assure you it will be enacted during
the ERV’s return, if the slightest hint is uncovered that Lewis yet
lives.”
“Where you lack the courage to kill in the name of greed,
Conders, I have an abundance of resolve.
We will not
fail…GOOD BYE!”
President William Conders had never intended this space age act
of villainy. It was a result of damnable circumstances beyond his
control. Actually, he was not, as Akema had suggested, a man of
greed. How very deep he had descended from a once proud
right wing conservative jurist!
His early career had been altogether non-political. Only his
appointment to the bench had any suggestion of playing favorites.
And in that case, only the Governor of Texas had returned a favor
owed Conders’ father for a past indiscretion. The senior
Conders had kept quiet about a land deal which had enabled the
governor’s campaign to swamp the electorate with “puff” ads
extolling the merits of the governor as a candidate.
And so, when appointment to a deceased judge’s Houston court
arose, Conders received the Governor’s nod. From there it was
the AG office in Austin, won in a landslide over a former liberal
legislator. Texas remained the sole conservative state among the
fifty. The rest had bowed to the “progressive” One Worlder
philosophy.
Each saw itself as a sub-nation within the Consortium’s political
framework. Actually, as a body, the group resembled a European
socialist nation more than “the land of the free and the home of
the brave” of previous centuries.
When Conders took the presidential reigns, the grass root
conservatives saw their leader as a
champion for their
214
resurrection from the dead. He agreed with their assessment
during his first months in the Oval Office. His legislative
proposals dealt with restoring the tri-fold checks and balances on
American government. He sought for the judiciary, from which
he hailed, the Congress, and the Executive Office to be on equal
terms.
One Worlders in Congress had emasculated their counter
balances, the executive and judicial branches. This led to
virtually, as their party name implied, a one world rule. No
United States legislation succeeded without conferring with
powerful representatives among Consortium nations.
Only those laws, regulations, and former practices which
established the awesome preeminence of American military
power were off-limits to international One Worlders.
International military might had fallen on the shoulders of the
United States by default. This left only two armies on Earth,
America’s and NANA’s, if you could call NANA’s network of
strategically located A-bomb sites an army. Yes, it was an army
in the sense that it could destroy civilization in an act of
international suicide.
Conders should have known his efforts for a return to the past
would have been aborted cleverly. When one man is the enemy,
he has ten thousand adversaries. Whatever flaw exists in that
man’s character will be an Achilles Heal destined to destroy his
best laid plans and purposes. With Conders, it seemed so
insignificant a weakness, a propensity which he had never
thought a problem. No, it was not sexual avarice, or a longing for
riches. It was not even a deep-seated want for fame. It would
not even have been listed among the seven deadly sins of the
Church. Yet, it proved to be that thing which had led to the
heinous act of murdering the Eagle II crew.
It was simply the bizarre idea that every person, no matter how
depraved, demented, distraught, or disturbed should not be
considered a threat but only treated with respect and
215
consideration.
President Conders was without the ability to
judge right from wrong. He found such good in everybody and
everything that his executive acts were more detrimental than
any legislation put forth by the One Worlders.
He might have been a wonderful executive director of the
Houston Humane Society.
Unfortunately, his propensity for
sympathy would have swamped the holding cages with stray
dogs and cats, not to mention wild squirrels and other domestic
animals.
His personality had flip-flopped as a result of his daughter’s
death. He failed to set rules for her, especially after his election.
Because he saw only good in those who would despitefully use
his office and family for personal gain, he was far too
accommodating with those who opposed him. This led to
ignoring the warnings of his FBI White House staff about his
family’s security. Ultimately, this led to his daughter’s death.
The case, of course, received international notoriety, even
greater than the Lindbergh son’s kidnapping in the past century.
William Conders became the antithesis of the man he had once
been. His shame drove him to an alter ego, not unlike that of
Soviet dictators of the Cold War. Even Salik Akema found his
wickedness unusually admirable. Such ruthlessness opened the
door for the secret proposal by NANA’s potentate. Together,
they would rule the world. They were, indeed, in league with the
Devil. There was no guilt whatsoever in ending the lives of the
Eagle II crew. It would benefit their designs for wealth and
power.
216
The Tunnel Maze
“Jenny?” he asked. “Are you some kind of undercover agent?”
“The reason I asked has to do with the way you entered the
MOCR the night we watched the APOLLO 13 movie. You
paused before and after entering. I watched your eyes. You were
performing some kind of surveillance of the room. Your
suspicions made me suspicious of you being some kind of a
detective.”
“For a GUIDO, you are behaving an awful lot like a TELMU
watching what I’m telecommunicating about myself. But, yes, I
do have some espionage training. Before, I became a NASA
employee, I had been a co-op for the CIA facility at Langley.
When the agency was disbanded, I pursued other employment
and was hired by NASA. We share the experience of a co-op’s
life. You with NASA. I with the CIA. My Uncle Ed White got
me the job. During the Cold War, he’d been involved with secret
service work.”
“That’s one of the reasons I’m glad we met. Both of us realize
something conspiratorial is going on with the Eagle II mission.
We share a common desire to see the crew safely back on Earth.
Just as your study of Apollo 13 will benefit our efforts, I can
show you some things about covert operations from my CIA coop background.”
“Well, Jenny, that’s terrific! This is especially good because I’ve
been thinking about that surveillance probe video. We’ve got to
see it. It will explain the way Eagle II was sabotaged. Knowing
how will help avoid a similar explosion on the rescue craft.
Likely, that’s why the video was impounded. It was to prevent
anyone from discovering the accident was premeditated.”
217
Jenny agreed, “That’s true but judging from the security
surrounding the data bank, secret entry and viewing of the video
is a formidable challenge.”
The GUIDO responded, “Maybe not. Your training at Langley
will be extremely useful based on a scheme I’ve conceived.”
“It has to do with a long forgotten tunnel system beneath the
space center surface structures. Not many remember, or are
aware, that more than ten feet underground, an elaborate tunnel
network exists. The Corps of Engineers excavated the labyrinth
in the early 1960s. Utility access to all space center buildings
came through the tunnel maze. Once, electrical harnesses,
plumbing, and other services snaked their way through those ten
foot diameter tubes. Of course, repair technicians ventured
below as required.”
“Unfortunately, the space center and surrounding communities
bordering on Clear Lake have an elevation slightly above sea
level. Sadly, hurricanes often strike the Texas Coast including
Galveston and Houston. Accompanying each hurricane is a
phenomenon known as a “storm surge” which lifts the
surrounding water level as much as thirty feet. With the tunnel
floor less than ten feet above sea level in the 1960s, a severe
hurricane storm surge would drown all who failed to escape prior
to the event.”
“But what made matters worse was the use of wells providing
water to the space center and surrounding areas. As fresh water
was pumped from subterranean strata, layers above settled into
the empty underground reservoirs. This subsidence reduced the
space center elevation so greatly that use of the tunnel system
was eliminated, Though they remained in place, entry and exit
hatches, doors, etc. were latched and locked. Each building has a
secured entry to the underground system. That includes the
location of the video data bank in Building 45.”
“I believe we
can achieve an after-hours entry via the tunnel system. Location
and routing of the underground maze remains accessible via on-
218
line archives of the space center’s Corps of Engineers drawings.
I’ve already downloaded them into my DA.”
The GUIDO’s scheme impressed Jenny so that she commented,
“As far as dealing with latches, locks, etc. I have ample training
and appropriate devices to assure our success. When do you
want to enter the tunnel system and where?”
“Let’s do it
Saturday night. We’ll meet in the northeast lab of Building 15.
Right here.”
The GUIDO had displayed the tunnel system schematic on the
three by five inch screen of his DA. Zooming into a display
filling overview of Building 15, he pointed to the location of the
lab.
“There it is on the layout, the old entry hatch to the tunnel
system. The distance between that lab and the data bank in
Building 45 is about a quarter mile.”
“But, we must have the kinds of things needed in Houston for
summer survival: insect repellant, some kind of protective
garment, even an air breathing SCUBA-like system. I judge this
venture is akin to spelunking (cave exploration). The tunnel
environment is unknown. There have been several major storm
surges accompanying hurricanes. They may have left those
tunnels filled with water, putrid odors, bats, rats, roaches, and
other unspeakable creatures.
We are going to need protective garments suited to the potential
harmful environment. I’ll stow our suits in a gym duffle bag.
Security will readily admit both of us on site…after all, we are
key players in the upcoming rescue mission, the Capcom and
GUIDO.”
In addition to the suits, I’ll bring some powerful Halogen flood
lights. Also, a Taser Gun might be useful to deal with any animal
life crawling about those deserted tunnels. We wouldn’t want to
kill something underground. It could well result in an unpleasant
219
odor. This might call for a security search to assure the stench
is not a dead human. Of course, if it is one of us they find, the
Taser would have been useless.
Jenny, I’m sure you have among the tools of your former trade
some kind of miniature digital video recorder. We’d need it to
copy the surveillance probe video once we find it in the data
bank.”
Can you think of anything else to assure mission success?”
“Yes, one other item is essential,” she answered.
“What’s that?”
“Walkie-talkies.”
“Of course, how else can we be assured of finding one another
should we become lost or separated? Cell phones wouldn’t work
underground. Besides, they would leave a record of our calls.”
Jenny added, “The walkie-talkies have twenty-one channels.
Their transmissions can’t be traced, and on a Saturday evening,
there will be no one listening on a like device. Besides their
range is limited. We’ll both select channel seventeen.
At Langley, we found that to be the least busy. It was one of my
co-op projects there. They sent me to a flea market with one. I
was to scan through the channels for the least busy of the twenty
one. For some reason, people simply do not choose it. That’ll be
the channel we’ll use.”
He wished he’d suggested their spelunking search the night
following their planning. The wait was elevating his anxiety,
thinking about unplanned challenges. Those “what-if” games
he’d been playing for Eagle II’s rescue had ended. Thoughts
about entering the bowels of the space center’s cavernous
tunnels replaced them.
220
He recalled dreadful videos featuring tragic endings to amateur
cavern exploration. While he and Jenny would venture no deeper
than ten feet from the surface of the space center, it might as well
have been Verne’s Journey to the Center of the Earth based on
the anxiety he felt.
Nevertheless, he drove the forty miles south to the Galveston
Army Surplus store for a pair of defcon garments, a large for him,
a small for Jenny. A tour of the aisles led to added purchases
deemed helpful for the venture: a pair of short flip handle
shovels, GI insect repellent guaranteed to thwart a case of malaria
in tropical jungles, and combat boots (size 12 and he hoped a
size 8 would fit Jenny).
Though there were gas masks, he nixed buying them deciding
SCUBA gear would be best. Likewise, he left flares, mess kits,
and canteens on the shelves.
Prior to leaving Galveston, he
visited the popular Galveston Divers’ Center.
There he
purchased two SCUBA tanks, filled with two hours of
compressed air, and the accompanying mask and pressure
regulator.
A trip to the Space City Mall near NASA completed his
collection for the tunnel foray. From a sport’s shop, he
purchased battery powered camper flood lights as well as the
twenty-one channel walkie-talkies. He couldn’t resist a pair of
those tool-kit knives whose blades replicate pliers, screw-drivers,
scissors, and yes, even a knife. Of course, all was paid for with
cash. Using credit cards would be ill advised. The mission must
remain untraceable.
He left the lock-smith tools to Jenny. Though she’d been a co-op
long ago, prior to the disbanding of the CIA, he sensed that the
CIA had not left her. It was, as the clique says, “in her blood.”
Perhaps, the genetic had skipped her dead cousin. The spy-gene
from her uncle had invaded her spirit, soul and body.
Were
he a frontiersman, Jenny would be his choice as a guide. She
possessed a sixth sense of awareness, a kind of resolute courage.
221
Thank God, he wasn’t alone in his quest to save Eagle II’s crew.
For the tunnel trek, she’d know how to deal with obstacles
between Building 15 and the Data Bank in Building 45.
Her confident smile greeted him that Saturday evening in
Building 15’s lab. It confirmed his assessment. All dread
dissolved as he watched Jenny. She immediately dealt with the
entry hatch lock. Though its pedigree was ancient in her view,
the primitive device’s tumblers succumbed in seconds. The tool
she inserted into its slotted aperture worked.
Lifting the manhole-like door released an altogether musky putrid
odor. At once, he considered activating his SCUBA gear.
But Jenny had a suggestion, “Breath through your mouth. It’ll
help.”
Yes, she was right, it abated the nausea he felt.
While they donned the DEFCON suits and boots, Jenny gave
instructions.
“We need to conserve SCUBA air until things get far more
unbearable. We might encounter noxious gases either devoid of
Oxygen or rich in carbon monoxide. Of course, pure nitrogen is
always a possibility, equally fatal without Oxygen. As for sewer
gas, we’ll simply have to tolerate its smell.”
She drew from her briefcase some kind of sniffing device with a
three light display: green, yellow, and red. Of course, the green
light lit immediately as they entered the tunnel system. She
explained the yellow light meant suspect air.
Though it would be wise to use the SCUBA system, the
atmosphere would sustain life. However, the red light meant
immediate SCUBA use. The lights had to be trusted based on
the variety of gases possibly encountered in the tunnel system.
Some, like carbon monoxide, were odorless and colorless. Only
222
the portable gas chromatograph could detect them. This was the
kind of thing coal miners used along with their portable air
breathing systems.
The Space Center’s abandoned tunnels did not have the luxury
of the air shafts built into underground mines. No oxygen
blowers enriched these underground passageways. The tunnels
had been deserted, left for dead long ago. Though off-limits to
humans, they remained the only sure route to the probe video.
Venturing forth into the maze, he got a comforting thought, “At
least, we have an air supply. Should we encounter a lethal
atmosphere, no air breathing rat, roach, or reptile will be present,
long since killed by the poison gas.”
The odd thought followed that it would be good if the red light
lit. That way, he’d be safe from subterranean vermin. No air
breathing monster would be alive to harm them.
For the most part, the tunnel was concrete lined except that
shifting Earth had caused significant cracks. As a result some
fairly significant pools of water had collected in the passageway.
Rainwater had leaked in and failed to be emptied through the
floor’s drainage system. It, too, had been abandoned years ago.
Thankfully, the military boots were water tight.
Most disturbing was the presence of swarms of Formosan
Termites. These had devoured wood tables and chairs distributed
along the path. Workers had fashioned the furniture from
shipping pallets for card games. Fortunately, their portable flood
lights helped Jenny and the GUIDO keep a safe distance from the
skeletons of once proud tables, chairs, and stools.
Jenny had been more foresighted than the GUIDO in attaching a
walker’s pedometer to her waist. It displayed a reading of
exactly one hundred yards when they heard a squeak-like din of
sound. The noise came from behind a circular hatch-like door
223
restricting their passage. It, like the Building 15 laboratory hatch,
was secured by the same type lock.
After Jenny’s device freed the door latch, he paused before
entering. With his lamp against the opening’s edge, he slightly
pushed the door and peered into the illuminated tunnel.
Slowly he scanned the scene. It was no longer a tunnel. Instead,
he viewed a very large circular room. Around its circumference
were hatch-like openings into tributary tunnels. The room
reminded him of a railroad round-house, the structures used for
selecting tracks for switching engines.
Their entry door was one of a dozen exiting into tunnels, like
spokes of a bicycle wheel. Had this been some kind of central
assembly room, a hub for testing and maintenance? But
most
alarming was the noise coming from the creatures flying about.
There was no choice but to advance. They would have to go
forward, despite the peril.
Stepping into the round-room revealed just how dreadful the
tunnel system had become. Their boots squished into a six inch
mire of muddy water-like Earth. At once, both knew its
source…BAT GUANO!
Above hung hundreds of the wicked flying mammals, grappling
the corroded pit holes of the iron ceiling. Many of the winged
beasts flew about the room, some indiscriminately dropping their
feces. At once, Jenny and the GUIDO donned their DEFCON
helmets.
Thankfully, the ceiling of the room was elevated at least ten feet
above the tunnel floor. Nevertheless, both of them crept stooped
over well beneath the hanging bat population. That’s when the
GUIDO looked down. The illuminated wash of the flood light
revealed hundreds of purplish cockroaches. The swarms treaded
over the Earthen guano as well as their boots. Some vainly tried
climbing up the trousers of the DEFCON suits.
224
Unfortunately, Jenny’s sniffing light remained green as they
trudged forth toward the end opposite the entrance door. The
atmosphere sustained the lives of bats, roaches, termites and
humans.
“Check the DA!” shouted Jenny.
He already had.
“This room’s not on the map.”
“What should we do?” he asked.
Jenny responded, “We have no choice. Try the hatches. The
locks are on the opposite side. If all are secure, we’ll have to
give up and turn back.”
Each of them began pushing on the remaining eleven exits,
hoping one would have been inadvertently unlocked. They began
testing each door working their way around the room’s
circumference. Finally, they had reached the last hatch. It was
directly opposite the tunnel from which they had entered.
“This is our last chance.”
Both of them pushed on the door at the same time. It opened so
quickly that Jenny lost her balance and would have injured
herself had not the GUIDO caught her in his arms.
He thought, “What a way to hug a girl you were attracted to for
the first time, covered with bat guano, and roaches crawling over
both of us! But that’s fine as long as it’s Jenny I’m hugging.”
The GUIDO flipped open the DA screen again. Scrolling the
screen along the tunnel path from Building 15 showed no circular
room where the tunnels converged.
“Why not?” he wondered.
225
Then he recognized his error. The DA’s drop-down menu was
set to gray scale. Correcting his error, he chose the RGB 256
color mode. It revealed a dashed circular outline centered
between Buildings 15 and 45. This was the circular room. Zoom
enlarging the image brought up the description of the room:
“Dashed red lines indicate the central tunnel system co-joining in
the underground atrium. The tunnels entering the atrium were
excavated in 2010.”
What a name for it, the atrium! This is one atrium even Satan
and his demons would shun.
The GUIDO didn’t relish the
thought of retracing their route back through it.
But what puzzled him was that the lone open door led directly to
the Building 45 Data Bank. Had another used this route
previously? Perhaps, the conspirators? He became more wary
when he found the tunnel hatch into Building 45 unlocked.
“Jenny, I’ll wait here,” were his words as they stood before the
underground opening.
“From now on you’re the expert. I’d botch this kind of thing.
But I suggest you remove your DEFCON attire. Should a
security guard see you, he’d report an alien invasion.”
Jenny found the customer service room without difficulty.
They’d asked for the probe video at its request window. It had
been denied them just days before. A side door into the actual
data storage room had a cipher lock with six push button keys.
This meant a combination count of six factorial. No problem for
another of Jenny’s CIA co-op gadgets. Ciphers were no match
for an accomplished lock sleuth.
The data clerk had wonderfully catalogued the probe’s data.
Retrieval was easy. The DVD player for viewing
the
surveillance probe videos rested next to the catalogued DVD’s.
After inserting the video disk, Jenny activated the twenty times
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playback mode and pointed her digital recorder’s lens at the
screen. It took no more than fifteen seconds to capture the
probe’s video. The playback showing the exterior and interior of
Eagle II’s sabotaged ERV could be studied later.
With that, Jenny stowed her mini-digital recorder, returned the
DVD to its proper place and exited the cipher-locked door. It
was then that she heard voices of men entering the tunnel access
room. She hoped the GUIDO was hidden.
Immediately, she reopened the lid of the digital recorder. Next,
she switched the device to the audio capture mode. With the
selector on hi-gain to amplify the sensitivity of the device, she
pressed its microphone against the wall. This would record the
quietest whisper sounded throughout Building 45.
Though she could not hear well enough to understand the men’s
conversation, their discourse, along with the video, could be
examined later. For now, it was important that she exit Building
45 in the quickest and least noticeable way possible.
Exiting was not a problem. The guards posted for securing the
Data Base only protected the entry from intruders. Those
leaving were considered to have had legitimate duties. Neither
guard paid attention to Jenny’s departure. If the GUIDO had
succeeded in returning through the tunnel system, their mission
had been accomplished. Nevertheless, she had better update him
on her status.
When he had heard the voices and approaching foot steps, the
GUIDO had quickly collected Jenny’s gear and exited back into
the tunnel. There, he had waited quietly, behind the snugly
seated hatch, when the men entered the room.
Knowing the men gone, he was expecting Jenny’s knock at any
moment. Instead, he felt his walkie-talkie vibrating against his
waist. Of course, it was channel seventeen calling. “Meet me in
the parking lot behind Building 15, I have the flight plan we
227
need to study for the Eagle II rescue simulation.”
Eagle II Rescue Flight Plan was their code name for the
surveillance video. This would avoid suspicion should someone
somehow be listening to their walkie-talkie exchange.
It was good that they had chosen this course. When Jenny broke
contact, the
GUIDO not only heard the familiar hiss of
background static from Jenny’s walkie-talkie end, but another
sound replace it. Was someone else monitoring Channel 17?
Perhaps, it was the one responsible for those unlocked tunnel
hatches.
Jenny’s message was his cue to return alone through the sewage,
the bat guano, the roaches, and termites. At least, he knew what
was in store. Immediately, he donned the SCUBA breathing
gear. He couldn’t help but smile, knowing that the air from the
tank would be sweet and clean despite the disgusting journey
back.
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The Rescue MOCR Simulation
It had been three days since Jenny and the GUIDO’s tunnel trek.
Caution had reigned so that no examination of the Data Bank
video was done.
Besides, the simulation was scheduled to
begin 8:00 a.m. the following Tuesday morning in the same
MOCR in which they had viewed the Apollo 13 firm.
Surprisingly, the historic MOCR had been chosen for the rescue
rather than using the upgraded control room used for the original
mission. The justification had to do with the need to adapt the
controllers’ consoles for the Rescue ERV. This could be
expedited using the historic MOCR. Of course, Flight controllers
would continue to monitor Eagle II’s base from the modernized
facility.
The Rescue ERV was an upgraded version of the qualification
spacecraft. The qualification vehicle had been identical to the
original ERV which had exploded in lunar orbit. Only modest
changes were needed to upgrade its configuration for the rescue.
Likewise, the historic MOCR’s antiquated 1970s consoles were
upgraded to 2030 digital vintage. Only the general tiered layout
with the three huge forward screens remained.
As
such,
Jenny’s elevated Capcom position in the room’s rear looked
down on the GUIDO’s console in the Trench. If she sat very
erect, she had an unobstructed view of his LCD screen as well as
his movements. Based on this, they had developed a secret
communication scheme. Jenny’s background in espionage was
responsible.
Actually, it was sort of a language using non-threatening casual
hand signals. No one would find her approach suspicious. It was
like a baseball catcher and pitcher passing signals without
speaking. When the GUIDO needed to send a message, he would
place his mission flight plan upside down in Jenny’s view. The
messages were then transmitted by hand orientation. It was sort
of like signing for the deaf. The Tuesday morning simulation
229
would be a practice session for both the rescue and their
clandestine signaling scheme.
An hour into the simulation, Jenny noticed the GUIDO reach for
the flight plan, flipping it over. This was the alert agreed upon. It
meant something very unusual was going on either with the
GUIDO’s data, another flight controller’s actions, or on–board
ERV astronaut activities.
If the GUIDO rested his fist on the flight plan, the flight
controllers were suspect. A palm down open hand warned of an
astronaut action. Lastly, a palm up open hand meant the
GUIDO’s display was acting oddly.
Once the GUIDO had passed the warning, Jenny was to consult
with the Lead Flight Director about the issue, questioning the
suspect activity. If something was amiss, such queries quickly
brought every flight controller and backroom expert into play.
Careful study of the situation would always deal with an act of
sabotage. Surely this would thwart a “real time” act meant to
harm the crew.
However, it was the pre-set threats that worried Jenny and the
GUIDO most. For that reason, the intelligence gained from the
probe video was needed. From the GUIDO’s perspective, the
loss of the original ERV appeared as something pre-programmed.
Rather than being an on board act of sabotage by one of the
Eagle II crew, the ERV had a hidden flaw.
As far as the simulation went, they discovered a problem with
the signaling technique. How was Jenny to know when the flight
plan had been turned over? The GUIDO might flip the document
then show the hand sign while Jenny wasn’t looking. Without a
foolproof method of getting Jenny’s attention, it wouldn’t work.
Again, Jenny’s CIA background came through.
That evening, they met in a Space Center Mall coffee shop to
discuss how to initiate the warning signal. After finding a table,
230
Jenny reached into her purse. On the table, she placed the
remnants of the same walkie-talkies used in the tunnels. The
units barely resembled those bought at the Space Center Mall.
“What have you done?” he asked.
The case was missing. Grey duct tape was tightly wrapped
around the emasculated device. Only the transmit button, the
circuit board transmitter, its miniature battery, and attention
vibrator remained. The speaker, channel select LED, antenna,
and case had been removed. What remained was the size of a
business card, only slightly thicker.
She explained, “This is another CIA adaptation of an everyday
device. It is now an instrument of espionage. Here’s yours. It’s
just like mine. Put it in your pants or shirt pocket. Either place,
the vibrator will get our attention when the button is depressed.
Of course, both are permanently set on channel 17. Don’t worry
about the missing antenna. Actually, for our use, that’s an
advantage. The wire leading to the missing antenna is sufficient
for the short distance between our consoles. I’ve reduced the
range from a mile to twenty feet.
Let’s try it here? You take yours to the counter to order coffee
while I remain seated. The distance is about equal to our
separation in the MOCR.”
As Jenny instructed, he placed the duct-taped kludge in his shirt
pocket. While ordering coffee, he casually pressed the device’s
button in his shirt pocket. When he reached for the two cups of
coffee, he felt the same vibrating sensation he remembered
waiting in the tunnel for Jenny. This was Jenny’s response that
their secret alert worked. It was now fully operational.
“Just one more thing.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
231
“Do you know Morse Code?’
“Of course, I was a Boy Scout. It was required for my Ham
Operator’s Merit Badge.”
“Just asking.”
232
Moon Base Forensics
(Tranquility Base M.E.T. ten days twelve hours)
Sid communicated what everyone had been thinking, “We’ve got
to make sure mission control has not the slightest clue that Justin
is alive. Any audio or video exchange with the MOCR must be
carefully planned to avoid Justin’s voice or image.”
Mohammed agreed, “Yes, I think we should prepare some kind
of space casket for you Justin. During any communication with
Earth, you’ll need to be interred.
Assuming the rescue ERV is identical to the original, we’ll need
to stow your body in the Lower Equipment Bay (LEB). The LEB
floor is wide enough for strapping you in place within a sleeprestraint bag. Immediately after Eagle II’s ascent, rendezvous
and docking with the rescue ERV, we’ll slip you into the bag,
float you through the docking tunnel, and bed you in place for the
return to Earth. Of course, we’ll be serving you food and
beverage, but I’m concerned some kind of spy camera might be
hidden aboard the spacecraft. Judging from the way the original
ERV was sabotaged this would be expected.”
“God bless you, Mohammed, for thinking this through for us,” I
shared.
“But another thing to think about could avoid another ERV
explosion.”
“What’s that, Justin?” asked Sid.
“It’s that surveillance probe video that Mohammed recorded days
ago. For some reason, Mission Control either wanted us to view
it, or inadvertently let us.”
Mohammed activated the video search instruction, bringing up
the first frame of the probe video on the stateroom’s LED screen.
233
“Let’s view the entire sequence then stop frame where something
appears unusual.”
The probe was sort of an automated robotic camcorder. Justin
recalled working on the technology in the latter 1990s. Should it
have been deployed on Columbia’s tragic mission, the outcome
might have changed. The space-cam would have revealed the
gapping hole in the orbiter’s wing prior to entry. A rescue
mission akin to that in work for Eagle II might have saved the
crew.
The five Eagle II dwellers followed the course of the probe as it
surveyed the hole in the ERV, entered through it then moved to
the location of the explosion. Next, the probe moved from the
aft crew module through the tunnel leading to the cockpit display
and control panels.
The
final
video frames zoomed into a close view of one of the panel’s
switches. The scene was so enlarged that the switch’s bat-handle
position was obvious as well as the nomenclature silk-screened
under it.
Justin commented, “Anyone who has ever videoed an event
knows a videographer teleoperates the scene selection from prior
knowledge. For example, at a child’s birthday party, relatives
and playmates are ignored. The video operator directs the
camera at the birthday boy or girl.
Similarly, it is apparent that the MOCR probe operator directed
attention to that switch. Obviously, it initiated the ERV’s
destruction.”
“Notice those croquet-like wickets protecting each switch from
accidental actuation. They are to prevent a floating astronaut
from inadvertently activating any of the panel switches. So the
setting of that switch had to be on purpose.”
Sid made the suggestion, “Let’s examine when the switch was to
have been thrown in the flight plan as well as what it was
234
supposed to do. Obviously, some of the MOCR controllers were
involved in the plot to strand us on the Moon. Rather than trying
to rescue us with information from the probe, they were
investigating why their scheme had failed.
We must understand it to avoid a like event befalling the rescue
ERV.”
Valerie spoke, “This brings to my mind a tragic event in our early
space history. Three cosmonauts died because a switch was not
activated properly. It’s not only the switch, but when the switch
is thrown. We need to know what is that switch’s routine
function.”
Valerie continued, “Let me explain what happened to our Soyuz
crew returning from the first visit to our Salyut Space Station. I
think it might help analyze the strategy used to kill us.
Actually, it was not so much the switch as the failing of an
automatic function the switch could have prevented. While the
mishap was always viewed as accidental, it was the type event
that might have been premeditated, like our descent
malfunction.”
Lewis wondered, “Weren’t political forces at work in those days,
much like today’s NANA versus Consortium threats? Those
cosmonaut deaths had likely been viewed by some as a
conspiracy.”
“Actually,” added Valerie, “the deaths reminded our country of
the loss of your three American astronauts, Grissom, White, and
Chaffee, in that 1967 Apollo One fire .”
Lewis recalled that some, years later, attributed that tragedy to a
failed switch. There were suspicions of a conspiratorial cover-up
that the switch was the actual cause. However, most evidence
had the fire started by a shorted connector wire beneath
Grissom’s couch.
235
Valerie’s next comments captured Lewis’s thoughts.
“Those Apollo astronauts, like our cosmonauts, were discovered
lifeless. Their lungs breathing noxious gases emitted by the fire
in their capsule killed them.
It’s ironic that our cosmonauts’
lungs were destroyed, not by the presence of gases, but by the
absence of a gas, Oxygen.
The capsule’s vents were designed to let the atmosphere enter the
Soyuz at low altitudes for the crew to breathe. Unfortunately, the
vents opened prematurely in the vacuum of space. If the
cosmonauts had employed the manual mode for switching on the
vents, inhibiting the automatic mode, they would have lived.”
Lewis, spoke,
“Valerie’s account shows the problem. How do we differentiate
a fatal failure planted in the system from an accidental
malfunction? Both are equally fatal.”
“That is exactly why I wanted to discuss it,” added Valerie.
“Whether a KGB operative orchestrated the Apollo fire or a CIA
agent acted to plant a design flaw in the Soyuz capsule are not the
issues.
For our purposes, knowing our lunar descent was
planned for harm assures us that a similar malfunction may be
planned later.”
On returning to the switch discussion before Valerie’s comments
about the Apollo One fire, Sid added, “But in this case, I think it
is a two-fold thing, throwing the switch at the right time but
having it perform a flawed function. The flaw would be
improper wiring secretly added to the as-built configuration of
the ERV. This kind of sabotage might activate the right system
but at the wrong time. It would be much like the situation which
led to the Soyuz accident, but indeed, not an accident, a plan.
Let’s think about that.”
236
“Worse,” said Mary, “what about activating an added system at
the wrong time, like an explosive bomb?”
Justin summed up the challenge, “Well, this calls for an intense
study of the ERV’s functional schematics. We have to know
when the switch should have been actuated, as well as what
system it should have activated. Then, we must compare that to
what actually happened.”
“What was the name of the switch?”
“No need for a name,” said Sid, “I know its function because I
actuated it. It’s the Eagle II DESCENT SEP ARM switch.”
“What’s its function?” asked Valerie.
“Actually it doesn’t do anything except allow us to enter the
Eagle II descent lunar base module safely. It makes sure that the
separation system cannot be manually activated before we are
safely inside the descent module with its hatch closed.”
Sid continued, “It has a three minute time delay built in so that
it’s impossible to separate from the ERV until three minutes after
its activation. At that time, separation is initiated by the descent
module’s separation switch.”
Mohammed spoke, “Sid, the explosion came exactly three
minutes after you set the switch on the ERV’s control panel. It
was somehow wired to the explosive in the aft ERV crew station.
Had we not been prompt in entering the descent lander, we would
have perished days ago.”
“Justin, I’m glad you were praying for all of us. Little did we
know how God was protecting us through your prayers my
friend, ”answered Mohammed.
“He says that He knows how many hairs are numbered on each of
our heads…and that even the death of a sparrow gets his
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attention. How much more will He strive to save our lives if we
look to Him for protection.
It was well and good that He’s revealed to us how He saved us,
but we need His help in the MOCR. Let’s pray He’ll raise up
someone there who is on our side. Someone who is aware that
there are conspirators at work, someone who is able to analyze
this probe video and thwart another ERV attack during our
rescue.”
Valerie interrupted, “Perhaps, Uncle Ivan’s friend is at work. He
promised my uncle to look after me. You know he was a Soviet
space technologist and had connections with the former KGB.”
“You, Valerie, be the one to especially pray for his help in our
behalf. I think you’re the one God will especially hear, if for no
other reason than in remembrance of the faithfulness of your
Uncle Ivan’s life as a disciple of Christ. Somehow, I believe that
if it were not for Uncle Ivan, our rescue would not have gotten
this far.
In fact, after hearing Mohammed’s comment, I believe the probe
had nothing to do with saving us. Instead, it was done to confirm
why the plot to kill us before entering the descent module failed.
Had the saboteurs tampered with the descent module’s separation
switch, we would have been held in a death grip. We would have
perished with the damaged ERV.
Instead, they had counted
on that three minute delay. Had we been slow to exit the ERV,
we would have died on board. Indeed, in part, the descent
separation arming switch performed as it should have.
But
igniting the explosion was an added evil function.
Obviously, we can’t organize a MOCR rescue team, but God can
in our behalf. He’s done it before and can do it again. If He
could use a shepherd boy with five stones to rescue an entire
nation, can He not save five spacefarers from a Consortium of
nations?
* * * * *
238
No one among Eagle II’s crew knew God was doing exactly what
Justin requested, i.e., organizing a rescue team of two, Jenny and
the GUIDO. On the evening of the very day the crew had
analyzed the probe’s surveillance video, the MOCR pair was
doing the same.
With the luxury of hundreds of added
telemetered ERV measurements, a more dire finding surfaced.
One that Eagle II’s crew could not have found.
The GUIDO was comparing the flight controllers’ integrated
functional schematics with the “as-built” manufacturing
drawings. While flight control diagrams help astronauts and
flight controllers quickly decide a course of action, engineering
drawings reflect the wire run of an electrical signal from switch
to the controlled device. The path through connector pins from
switch terminals to an electronic controller determines what
happens.
Therefore, the GUIDO traced the engineering schematic from the
display panel’s DES SEP ARM switch to the three minute delay
signal in the ERV. As expected, he found the output from the
timer allowed an astronaut to separate the vehicles. But only after
a three minute wait could this be done. Then, only the separation
switch in the descent module could activate the separation.
Unfortunately, the GUIDO found, yet, another wire attached to
the ARM switch. It, too, traversed rearward into the ERV’s
Lower Equipment Bay (LEB). However, its function was
omitted from the flight controllers’ functional drawings. Only the
engineering, as built, schematics revealed its function.
Most dreadful about that second wire was its destination. It led to
one of the crew module’s five explosive separation pyros. These
are known as “explosive devices” or EDs for short. They are
designed to activate guillotine cutters which cut wire harnesses
between vehicles. Another use is to sever structural connections,
preparatory to separation of the crew reentry capsule for descent
to Earth.
239
Additionally, these pyros serve to “pop” the entry capsule away
from the ERV propulsion module, exposing the heat shield. The
ERV design had five ED explosive devices positioned around the
crew module’s circumference. A separate switch apart from the
Eagle II Descent Separation Arming switch fires the five EDs
simultaneously.
Proper operation immediately separates the
capsule from the engine stage so that the exposed ablative heat
shield can do its job on reentry.
If any of the five explosives fails to detonate, the crew cannot
survive reentry. The dud fails to sever its attachment strut while
the remaining four are severed.
The explosive force of the four pyros cannot be dissipated into
the vacuum of space while the vehicles remained gripped
together. This results in four gapping holes in the heat shield as
well as numerous cracks in the ablative material.
Even if that fifth strut is later cut by an emergency EVA using
“wire-cutters”, the heat shield is useless. A fiery reentry akin to
Columbia’s demise is assured.
At once, the GUIDO recognized the source of the ERV’s
damage. A single explosion had been activated three minutes
after routinely arming the Descent Module Separation Switch.
Without the remaining four charges severing their attachment
struts, the force of the explosion had not only burst a hole in the
heat shield but blown out a gapping hole in the crew module’s
lower equipment bay. Though the crew had initially escaped,
there was no chance of a return through Earth’s atmosphere.
They were stranded on the Moon until a rescue ship could be
sent.
The damage to the ERV’s reentry module was devastating, surely
fatal as far as Eagle II’s crew was concerned. It had not been a
hidden explosive destroying the ERV but a single wire which a
saboteur had added.
240
Knowing that the rescue ERV was almost identical to the original
was troubling. Had the same wire been added to the contacts of
the DESCENT ARM SEPARTION SWITCH? If so, a similar
outcome would not happen, Eagle II would be ascending and
docking, not descending. Yet, a like scheme could be employed.
A routine switch firing one of the five crew module’s pyros in
preparation for reentry would execute an identical scenario, a
compromised heat shield.
Judging from the video, i.e., the path the camera followed to the
specific switch which activated the explosion, the flight
controller steering it was among those in on the sabotage. The
GUIDO checked the names of those sitting at the TELMU
officer’s console.
At the time of the video operation of the probe, IT WAS ONE OF
THE FOUR WHO HAD DIED in the tragic auto accident leaving
the space center. The other three also manned consoles at that
time including the dead GUIDO who he had replaced.
The GUIDO wondered how he might defeat such a scheme.
Suddenly, the answer came into his mind. It was the kind of
thing that the Apollo veteran engineer Justin Lewis had spoken of
when he visited the space center long ago. On that occasion, he
had addressed the GUIDO’s co-op class.
Lewis cited instances of supernatural intervention. He spoke of
them as God sent. They were quite simple, yet so eloquent, that
only “someone’s thoughts that were higher than our thoughts
could be responsible.” At least, that is how the GUIDO
remembered it being said.
This thought had to be in that category, an idea beyond the
GUIDO’s usual knowledge of guidance and control operations:
“Override the onboard switch panel function with a telemetered
programmed command upload, a separate independent means of
arming those pyros. Do it much earlier than the check list called
241
for the pyro separation firing. Preempt the saboteurs.”
He wondered, “Now that I know what to do, how will I do it?
Perhaps, the same voice has the answer. I’ll be listening.”
242
Substitute Saboteurs
The two Russian Soyuz reentry specialists arrived in Houston a
week after the demise of the four unfortunate flight controllers.
Actually, their assignment officially was to replace the American
Retro Officer killed in the NASA Parkway accident. Together,
but on alternate shifts, their responsibility was to bring the rescue
ERV through the final stages of Earth return and reentry.
Having expertly conducted such operations multiple times for the
Russian Soyuz capsule qualified the pair. However, these
operations had been from Earth orbit rather than deep space. The
Soyuz had ferried International Space Station (ISS) crews to and
fro for several decades without incident.
In the past five years, these men had done yeoman service in
behalf of the Consortium of Five. Because of the sensitive nature
of ISS operations, the security clearance bestowed upon the two
Retro Officers was Top Secret. Only the Chief Flight Director
possessed so high a level of confidentiality.
All the American flight controllers were aware that these two had
been personally commissioned for the job by the President of the
United States. Likewise, all knew that they had attended special
espionage training to thwart any attempts by NANA to sabotage
Eagle II’s return. Some believed that the destruction of the
original ERV had been a hateful act of NANA’s underground
terrorist agency.
In fact, that was another reason two new Retro Officers were
selected. Having one serve on the gold team and the other on the
black flight controller team would increase security, double the
protection in the MOCR. The flight control team was grateful
that these skilled Russian astronautic engineers also possessed
counter-espionage talent to protect the mission and fellow team
members.
243
It was the night of their first day at the space center that the pair
visited the Building 45 Data Bank. Their purpose was to review
the incident of the meteor strike which destroyed the Eagle II’s
ERV. Studying the surveillance probe video was the best means
of analysis.
After watching the brief video, the gold Retro spoke, “Just as
they told us at Consortium Intelligence (CI), the mishap failed
because the crew had expedited their departure in the descent
module in less than three minutes.”
“Yes,” agreed the black team Retro, “had they been more
sluggish in executing Eagle II’s descent, we would be planning
the next Soyuz reentry from orbit rather than the rescue ERV’s
reentry.”
The gold Retro replied, “CI’s trainer has assured us that a similar
anomaly will not foil such plans should the determination be
made to terminate the remaining four astronauts.”
Both men viewed the schematic of the rescue ERV’s systems.
The document was given them to study following their Moscow
briefing at the CI Russian Headquarters.
Specific instructions had not been given as to why or how the
replacement Retro Officers were to sabotage the rescue’s return
to Earth. However, it was suggested that they would be able to
accomplish their mission by deciphering a hidden flaw built into
the rescue ERV’s reentry system. Should they fail, their fate
would be the same as those four Americans whose auto mishap
ended in death.
CI work had come to that, immensely rewarding or utterly fatal.
Such a risk/reward ratio assured success ninety-nine times out of
a hundred. Neither Retro had been a KGB agent, but both prided
themselves on the knowledge that CI work posed greater peril for
its agents than those spies of the Cold War.
244
However, the Soviet empire had not the lavish resources that a
successful CI operative could expect. This single mission meant
a life time of leisure, wealth and respect. The stakes for their
unknown benefactors amounted to billions. These astronautic
entry experts must perform according to instructions.
Nevertheless, they were not to decide whether the Eagle II crew
lived or perished. They were only to act on instructions. And
how were these orders to come?
Their departing training answered that question fully: When the
rescue ERV’s reentry sequence was to begin, a message would be
forthcoming from the mission Public Affairs’ Officer (PAO).
The PAO would interrupt international media broadcasts to
transmit a statement of hope from President Conders for the
crew of Eagle II. The gold Retro was to listen carefully. If
President Conders said, “Welcome home crew of Eagle II…,”
the crew was to descend safely. But if the President’s words
were, “Death has been defeated by the Consortium’s heroic
rescue effort…”, the fatal ERV option was to be executed. The
Eagle II crew, like those Columbia astronauts and the three
Soviet cosmonaut victims of reentry in 1971, would perish during
their descent to Earth.
The substitute Retro Officers once more perused the drawings of
the ERV entry functions and schematics. They must find the
flawed design!
Carefully, they traced the switch functions which prepared the
ERV capsule for reentry. Their study revealed that one of the
switches had not one but a pair of wires attached to an output
terminal at the rear of the switch.
Though the engineering schematics showed two wires connected
to the pin, the functional diagram indicated the switch had only
one function. The indicated nominal function of the switch was
to arm another switch in preparation for entry.
245
What did the added wire enable for entry? Following the scribed
line across the diagram answered the question. The added wire
affected the timed deployment of the entry capsule’s parachutes.
The drawing’s nomenclature for the switch was CHUTE
DEPLOY ARM.
The black team Retro examined the command timing program of
the sequential parachute system. Before actuating the arming
switch, the crew could not inadvertently deploy the chutes. After
activating the arming, the automatic deployment timer would
release the chutes at correct capsule velocity and altitude
initiating the reefing of the descent chutes.
Both values of capsule descent velocity and altitude had to be
correct. Too much velocity at an incorrect altitude would rip the
chutes from the capsule. Likewise, too high an altitude for
deployment would confuse the chute system. This would affect
the drogue to main chute sequence. Either case would be fatal.
That extra wire from the arming switch rather than protecting the
crew from early deployment of the chutes, actually commanded
the chute system to release immediately, a sentence of death. If
the switch was actuated at any time during the mission, the crew
would perish.
There was only one way to avoid the fatal outcome. The Retro
must send a radio command to set the chute deploy arming signal
before the crew did the same. Then the crew must be warned not
to do the same via the switch. This would thwart the sabotaged
switch.
It would keep the secret wire from prematurely
activating parachute deployment.
The gold team Retro would only send the saving telemetry
command on hearing the words, “Welcome home…” from the
President of the United States of America. Otherwise he would
do nothing. The rescue ERV would do the deed. It would be the
crew’s executioner.
246
The World View
Nearly three weeks have passed, and while we remain stranded,
the effort to rescue us is progressing well. Internet news provides
encouragement. The digital media is displayed real time on the
stateroom display. It is our link with civilization a quarter
million miles away. No paper boy need throw the Houston
Chronicle at the feet of Eagle II. At the speed of light, come
those headlines on a second by second basis. At 186,000 miles a
second, delivery requires slightly more than one and a quarter
second’s time.
Since the early part of the century, Internet sites offer news from
all the Earth’s major cities. The political “spin” of NANA daily
papers compared to Consortium outlets is quite different.
However, with regard to our rescue, both NANA and Consortium
news sources hold identical views.
It is as though a single reporter is writing their stories. We are
viewed as five lost mountain climbers with one of us deceased.
Other accounts liken our situation to a child who has fallen into a
deep well with firemen attempting the rescue. An account from
the mining town of Charleston, West Virginia has us as miners
trapped miles beneath the ground. We are separated from our
loved ones by an explosion not unlike one befalling workers in a
mine shaft. Of course, the Earth’s seaport cities view our
situation as mariners lost at sea, except that we are “cast adrift on
the ocean of space” as told by England’s Portsmouth Herald.
Our sense is that the unified agreement in NANA/Consortium
propaganda is premeditated. It has to do with the conspiracy
between the insurance policy beneficiaries President Conders
and NANA’s Prime Minister. They well know why the ERV
exploded, why there is a rescue attempt, and if we will actually
be rescued. Of course Earth’s media has no clue of this.
247
Previous space missions had always been criticized by NANA’s
radio, television, news and Internet outlets. The nine billion souls
on planet Earth, except for a handful of conspirators, view us as
brave extraterrestrial explorers.
From my viewpoint, God is getting glory from the threat to our
lives. Prayers are being said across the nations for our recovery.
It was a similar situation with Apollo 13’s mission which
launched intercessions Moonward in behalf of Lovell and his
crew. I lost count of the number of times believers in Christ
shared that they had prayed for the safe return of those three
1970s astronauts. A number of the accounts were very specific
about what was prayed and how God answered. As a result, I
wrote a testimonial booklet detailing a number of definite
answers to specific prayers.
Perhaps, the account I most often shared was the “pig in the
barrel” prayer by a parishioner of a Texas country church. The
pastor had called for the congregation to intercede in behalf of
the Apollo 13 crew during that April week in 1970. One of its
members, a woman of about fifty years of age, was among those
praying. By her words to me several years later, she experienced
what Scripture calls a vision from the Holy Spirit. While the
church prayed, a scene unfolded in her mind of farmers trying to
fit a pig into a barrel. The stout animal simply would not fit until
she prayed in Jesus’ name that God would solve the problem as it
related to Apollo 13.
I’d been consulted by the manager of the Apollo 13 mission
engineering team about the pig in the barrel challenge. The
vision represented square carbon dioxide filters which would not
fit into the barrel-like holder in the rescue ship, the lunar lander.
The lander served as a lifeboat after the mother ship exploded.
The mother ship had sufficient square filters for a three man two
week voyage to the Moon. The lander became its substitute.
Unfortunately, the four legged vehicle had round filters only
sufficient for two men to use for two days. But if one could fit a
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square peg, or as God saw it a “pig”, into a round hole, a “barrel”,
then the crew would live. If the problem could not be solved, the
crew would perish on their own CO2 poisoned breath.
The night of that woman’s prayer, the solution came forth. One
of the backroom technicians at the space center saw a scene in his
mind. The mental image was a “jury-rig” set up of log book
covers, suit hoses, and most importantly DUCT TAPE. The
scheme routed cabin air through the square filters removing the
carbon dioxide gas.
Were it not for the media broadcasting Congress’s request for
prayer in behalf of the Apollo 13 crew, the pastor would not have
called the church to prayer, and, likely, God would not have
answered this specific petition for fitting a “square pig into a
round hole.” Apparently, the same kinds of prayers were being
launched in behalf of us. Sid and Valerie testified to unusual
“witty inventions”. These had to be God’s wisdom from above.
Yes, the Earth’s believers were interceding for us, and God was
hearing them.
249
Autopsy Confirmation?
The NASA flight control medic, Richard Keilman, M.D., greeted
him with sort of an artificial smile. Though not a smirk, it was
wholly insincere. As a claims adjustor, he was familiar with this
kind of reception. It was, as though, he were a prosecuting
attorney intent on finding fraud. In this case, Dr. Keilman
viewed himself as a witness for the defense.
But Keilman was not the authority in this case. He, the
designated reviewer, was in charge. He would conduct the
investigation. Quickly, he asserted his authority in matters
concerning space mortality.
“I am Russian by birth. My experience deals with long duration
aspects of space environments as it affects the human body. This
began in 1974 in cooperation with your mentors, Dr. Keilman.
With the ebbing of Soviet space ventures after the Moon race, my
engineering expertise in space science forensics led to my work
as a claims adjustor in that arena.”
“Be assured…if Eagle II’s crew is feigning Justin Lewis’s death,
I will know. Now, please show me the video of the autopsy
conducted for the Houston coroners. From it, I will make my
determination. My official confirmation is required, or there will
be no settlement, no transfer of funds, and, perhaps, no rescue.
Do you understand?”
The NASA medic’s fake smile had morphed into an angry
scowl, “Come into my office, and I’ll show it to you.”
As he studied the space autopsy video, he was careful to exude
the persona of a skeptic, never once seeming to accept the
evidence put forth by the Eagle II crew, Dr. Mary Evers and
Mohammed, that Justin Lewis was deceased. At the conclusion
of the Eagle II autopsy video, he characterized his doubts with
250
his summation.
“Dr. Keilman, though the data appears to confirm Lewis’s
demise, I must qualify my final approval. Instructions will be
issued to advance the beneficiaries one half of the insured amount
immediately. However, the remaining approval will be granted
only when I am altogether convinced of Lewis’s demise. To that
end, I require NASA provide me a console in the MOCR for the
rescue mission. I am to have full flight controller access to all
crew
biomedical data
as well as the ERV operational
measurements.
Additionally, I require this in order to assure the underwriters that
fraud is not involved in bringing a live Justin Lewis back to Earth
rather than a dead cadaver. My presence is likewise to assure
that no mischievous act of space sabotage causes the deaths of
the Eagle II crew or Mr. Lewis, if he is not already deceased. My
employers actually hope Mr. Lewis is alive so that we need not
advance the billions remaining to the insured’s beneficiaries who
remain nameless, even to me. Do you fully understand me, Dr.
Keilman?”
“Yes, of course, Sir.”
“Well then pass the word immediately as I understand launch is
set for a week from today.”
“Also assure those experts among your kind and those in the
MOCR that my experience with spacecraft systems analysis is
quite advanced so that any fraud I find will forfeit the remaining
settlement.”
As Uncle Ivan’s old friend was escorted from the NASA medical
facility, he was pleased with his plan. It was working. He would
be on the floor of the MOCR. At least one ally would be on the
crew’s side, and, perhaps, several others. However, in such
cases, he was not so naïve as to believe there was no peril for the
crew or himself.
251
More than once, he had escaped death from irate beneficiaries
following his determination of fraud. To this end, he “packed”
on his person a KGB weapon of the Cold War. No metal detector
or physical search had ever succeeded in finding his “equalizer.”
It, as always, would be with him during perilous times, even if
needed in the MOCR.
His weapon was impossible to trace because it was part of his
body flesh. The chemists who were assigned the project created
what they called the “membrane gun.” Its gelatinous form
actually adhered to his inner thigh as a protruding muscle. X-rays
ignored its presence.
The muscle-like membrane was a miraculous invention.
Removing it from the thigh and submerging it in water provided
a catalytic action in the material’s molecular structure. What
ensued was a preordained solid configuration.
No, it wasn’t a “beam me up Scotty” transformation, but an
evolution of the amorphous pliable muscle-like mass into its prior
shape. It was being “de-muscularized” as the inventors named
the process. Its previous life had been a crude weapon, a
common pistol. By partially unbending a paper clip into a
prescribed shape, a metal trigger-firing-pin part was shaped. By
inserting it into an aperture in the reconstituted gun’s body, the
weapon became operational.
Of course, it required ammunition. Such was even more
inventive than the spongy membrane material. Encapsulated
bullets occupied twelve teeth in the rear of his mouth. Their
composition was amalgam with a healthy amount of high energy
liquid explosive within the body of each tooth.
He kept a
toothpick handy in case the membrane gun needed ammunition.
Twice he had escaped death by scheming beneficiaries. His Cold
War KGB spy-spinoff had saved him. He often wondered why
spy-ware wasn’t touted as a beneficial by-product of the Cold
War. Hadn’t NASA claimed such benefits for consumer products
252
derived from space program technology?
He tired of the
claims that one’s golf game would profit from space spinoffs.
Among these were graphite golf club shafts developed from
technology which permitted Apollo 14’s Alan Shepherd to dub a
three iron shot on the Moon. What about the spy-spinoffs?
They, too, had beneficial espionage spinoffs, technology which
developed into useful everyday products. Few knew that antilock brakes had once been conceived as a torture system no spy
could endure. Confession was swift when the padded vice grip
was wrapped around a forearm, and the pulsating traumatic force
of the device was applied by a foot pedal actuator. The human
squealing screams were louder than any worn out brake shoe.
But the memory-membrane, as spy-ware researchers called it,
was among the most innovative inventions of Cold War days.
Not only would it assume a pistol’s shape, one could fashion a
knife, hammer, or poison dart blow gun with the miracle
material. The closest thing he’d seen like it were those pellets
bought at a dollar bargain store which assumed the shape of
seahorses when immersed in a child’s bath water.
He never would have predicted that such a thing would be needed
in the world of finance. Yet, an international organization had
evolved known as the Society of Financial Crimes Investigators.
He was a member.
“How ironic! More danger existed in the world of insurance
fraud than in the Cold War arena of espionage!”
*****
The red phone in President Conders’ Oval Office, illuminated,
the indication that an encrypted message for “his ears only”
awaited. Its content posed problems for Conders and Akima.
“The claims adjustor will not approve the transmittal of the
remaining portion of the policy to the beneficiaries unless he is
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given a console in the MOCR. If he finds fraud concerning the
loss of Lewis’s life, the award will be forfeited. Lewis must be
deceased.
The positive news is that the adjustor has accepted the Eagle II
base autopsy on a tentative basis. He has agreed to immediately
release half the insured amount to the beneficiaries, whomever
they may be.”
Conders relished that last statement. “Billions were already
theirs…and neither that adjustor nor others knew whom those
beneficiaries were…your’s truly and, of course, his colleague in
crime, NANA’s potentate.”
Conders decided not to pass this information to his nefarious
colleague.
“Why would he need to know? NASA controlled the mission.
The return would succeed or fail based on Conders’ whims. He
had a pair of CI agents in place. He, alone, would make the
decision, life or death. Wasn’t it a President’s duty to grant
reprieves or allow an execution to proceed? He would do his
duty as he alone saw it.”
254
Launch
Not since Neil Armstrong’s Apollo launch had greater numbers
flocked to the Cape. Conservatively, the estimate came to a
million plus. Their hopes and prayers focused on the jury-rigged
booster with its retrofitted ERV atop the twenty story rocket.
Added to these witnesses were five souls 242,352 miles above as
the eagle flies. Of course, no such bird could soar in the airless
vacuum of space.
Yet, there was another opposing cabal whose plans and purposes
were the antithesis of the mighty army of millions interceding for
a successful rescue. Though they numbered less than the fingers
on both hands, two among them had not only the power to
destroy five innocent souls stranded on the Moon, but also every
man, woman, boy and girl on the entire planet Earth. Indeed, it
was a lop-sided contest. Numbers in the billions against the allpowerful twosome of president and potentate.
Only one ruled above this pair, the One said to be omnipotent, the
Lord God Almighty. Justin and his crewmates were calling on
Him.
That put them in the majority, for He had promised, “One, with
God on his side, is a majority.” Likewise, “Greater is He that is
in those who believe in Him than he (Satan) that is in the world.”
Not since the dawn of creation and the crucifixion and
resurrection of Christ had so much rested on the outcome of a
human endeavor. Should the delicate balance of international
weaponry held by NANA and the Consortium be upset, the crew
of Eagle II might return to an Earth devoid of human and animal
life.
And such a statement, in this instance, cannot be viewed as
exaggeration. President William Conders had secretly plotted
255
against Salik Akema. Such an action might well trigger NANA’s
Masada Response.
Akema’s psychosis was known to erupt with angry emotional
retaliation for a wrong. In essence, the man had the crazed
psyche of a suicide bomber. Conders’ greed was placing
civilization in jeopardy. Indeed, it could be argued that Conders’
secret scheme threatened mankind more than Adam and Eve’s
evil act in the Garden of Eden.
Should Conders’ untoward fraud ignite Akema’s wrath, a
conflagration was assured. It would surely equal anything told in
the final chapters of Revelation. Should that be the case, no
mercy would be granted Conders’ eternally damned soul. He and
Akema would rush through the gates of Hell, hand in hand. Their
reward would be granted by the Father of Lies. The Deceiver of
the Brethren had a special place for such as them, an eternity in
Hell’s fires. Forevermore, their domicile would be Satan’s pit
populated by legions of demons.
The war would be fought in the heavens, higher than the lunar
trajectory. Unseen demons and angels, agents of Satan and God,
would be accompanying the spacecraft voyage. Earth’s prayers
would join Eagle II’s crew’s.
These intercessions would
empower God’s warring angels against a formidable enemy.
Perhaps, the outcome would launch that prophesized battle of
Armageddon.
The irony was that while Earth’s millions prayed, thinking that
five souls were in jeopardy, those five understood how much
graver were the consequences for Earth’s billions should their
Moon launched intercessions fail.
Indeed, the promise of
Scripture had to prevail, “If one can put a thousand to flight then
two can put ten thousand to flight.” How many might five
praying in Jesus’ name thwart? Yes, there was the potential for
the Eagle II crew to spend their last days on the Moon, but more
dreadful was the threat of billions spending their last days on
256
planet Earth.
As the five gathered around the stateroom’s planning table, they
watched the LCD screen. The fueled ERV booster stood proudly
on its pad. Resolutely, Justin extended either hand. Mohammed
gripped his right hand firmly while Sid grasped his left. Then, to
Justin’s surprise, Valerie and Mary followed suit with tears in
their eyes. Truly, they were now all one body, praying in the
name of their Lord and Savior Jesus Christ…not for themselves
but for planet Earth, all those billions who might perish if the
rescue did not succeed.
*****
The Insurance Officer, as the MOCR flight controllers now
designated him, watched the large center screen covering the
forward wall of the MOCR. Wisps of cloud-like water vapor
rose from the booster’s cryogenic tanks.
Jenny ignored the large wall screen, watching the same scene on
her console’s display. The GUIDO ignored the television views
altogether. Rather, he studied the status of the ERV’s guidance
hardware, thruster temperatures, computer computation self tests,
and gyro status. From time to time, he did glance forward at the
big bird’s façade.
Behind the GUIDO’s console was the EECOM’s. The acronym
stood for Electrical Environmental and Communication flight
controller. The EECOM’s duties would be reduced during the
outbound trajectory with no crew onboard.
Of course, neither the gold nor black team Retros were at their
consoles initially. In fact, they would be absent until just before
the lunar retro burn which placed the ERV in a circular lunar
orbit awaiting rendezvous with Eagle II’s ascent module. The
event was at least three days away.
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The GUIDO wondered about this pair of transplants from the
RSA, the Russian Space Agency. Besides himself, they, also,
were new to the mission. Four controllers had died in the NASA
Parkway auto accident. Among them were a GUIDO and three
Retros.
Since the ERV would be unmanned during the journey to the
Moon, NASA had requested only two entry officers to replace
those three dead civil servants. Others said that NASA chose two
rather than three for another reason. An edict had come down
from a much higher office that these two were the only persons
suitable for the rescue mission.
`
However, Retro duties, included the crucial Earth reentry, but
the FIDO did the retro-fire into lunar orbit. Additionally, there
was the docking in lunar orbit of the ERV with the ascending
Eagle II spacecraft.
For the previous mission, the deceased
Reentry Officers had executed the opposite maneuver, undocking
from the ERV for descent. This was the maneuver that stranded
the crew on the Moon.
With no lunar descent for the rescue mission, only two rather
than three entry officers were deemed essential. However, this
added to the GUIDO’s responsibility for the docking maneuver.
He was to assist the two Russians as a part time substitute for the
eliminated Retro.
Both he and Jenny believed the Russians were planted for a
purpose, sabotage. For that reason, the GUIDO would be vigilant
when either Retro was on duty. The question remained: What
scheme the saboteurs would pursue, another flaw in switch
wiring, a fatal telemetered command sent to the ERV by a Retro,
or some other altogether unexpected challenge?
Nevertheless, it was good that the suspects were reentry
specialists. GUIDOs and RETROs served quite similar roles in
the MOCR. Actually, it would be akin to having a college degree
majoring in GUIDO training with a minor in reentry course work.
258
The roles were interchangeable. This meant he could determine
suspicious behavior by either the gold or black Retro. Hopefully,
he’d know early enough to foil their plans.
The launch went uneventfully. Later, from his MOCR console,
he gave the GUIDO’s O.K. for the ERV’s orbital transfer vehicle,
the OTV, to thrust the rescue craft on its lunar trajectory. For the
next seventy hours, his role, along with his colleagues would be
housekeeping the status of the ERV’s orientation control system,
guidance computer, and gyros.
His eight hour shifts would be six in number. He would return
just prior to rendezvous and docking with the Eagle II ascent
stage for the crew transfer prior to the Trans-Earth-Injection burn.
The remaining three shifts would conclude during the final eight
hours of the rescue which included setup for reentry and
recovery.
So certain were Jenny and the GUIDO of the gold and black
entry officers’ involvement, that they ignored their signal system,
leaving the walkie-talkies hidden in their offices. However, they
planned to bring them for the final shift.
Likewise, the Insurance Officer felt no threat for Cosmonaut
Valerie’s safety until she and the Eagle II crew had entered the
rescue ERV for the Earth return voyage. Therefore, he would not
man the “IO” console (the new name designated his location in
the MOCR) until that phase of the mission.
He marveled at NASA’s insistence on acronyms for all things
astronomical. As an electrical engineer, he always considered the
term “IO” to mean “Input-Output,” not Insurance Officer.
Like Jenny and the GUIDO’s decision to don their walkie-talkies
only during the return to Earth phase, he, likewise, chose to wear
his membrane weapon during that period.
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He would not reveal his identity to Jenny for her protection.
Likely, the time for that would come but not now. How NASA
and the policy beneficiaries understood his purpose was exactly
the opposite to what he had cleverly instituted. They saw him as
an insurance sleuth for detecting fraud in the death of Justin
Lewis. Quite to the contrary, he intended to keep Lewis alive,
regardless of the conspirators wanting him dead. In so doing, he
hoped to preserve the lives of Valerie and the entire crew as well.
This was the promise he had made Uncle Ivan decades ago, and
he intended to keep it at whatever cost.
He had wonderfully succeeded in not only becoming an eye
witness to events affecting that outcome but also a real-time
player in this life and death drama. No longer was he in the
audience. Now, he was on-stage, among the team of MOCR
flight controllers.
260
Martyr or Mediator
Each of the Eagle II crew, men and women, had watched the
Kennedy Space Center display of the ERV on its booster.
Simultaneously, they had silently counted down with the liftoff
clock. And the moment had finally come. That had been days
ago. Now the rescue ERV was approaching the retro burn
putting it into orbit around the Moon.
Justin Lewis took this moment to have a very special talk with
the Lord. It was one of those spiritual exchanges where verses of
Scripture fell like dominos into his mind. In just hours, the ERV
would approach the Moon for its retro burn. The first domino
fell: “In the fullness of time, God sent forth his Son…” At once,
Justin understood the Holy Spirit’s message. For them, it was,
indeed, the fullness of time, the ordained moment that they were
to meet their savior, the ERV. It, like Christ, had been sent by
the Father.
Actually, the vehicle was no different than Noah’s Ark or Jonah’s
big fish. It embodied all that Jesus had been ordained to do,
rescue mankind from death both spiritual and physical.
The others were not aware of the desperate struggle Justin had
wrestled with the day before as the ERV closed within 30,000
miles of Tranquility Base.
“Why don’t you insist on remaining on the Moon?
your last days basking in the Moon’s Sun would assure
brothers and sisters safe passage. You’ve already
course, achieved the four score years Scripture
believers by reason of strength.”
Spending
your four
run your
promised
Because he knew that his comrades would not allow him to stay
behind, he devised a plan. Just before launch, he would spring
from his couch, dash into the airlock and secure its hatch from
within which would be impossible to open from the cabin. They
would be resigned to launch without him.
261
The more he thought of martyrdom, the greater he believed it was
his Christian responsibility. It would not be so bad. He would
only lose his physical life but gain eternal life with his Lord and
Savior. Though his body would perish, the four would survive.
Why chance their deaths, never to see their families again? He
possessed the power to assure a joyous homecoming in each
household.
“I am about the age of the twelve disciples when they died.
Most chose martyrdom.”
He spent the last night in his cubicle intent on staying behind for
Jesus and his colleagues’ sake.
****
“YOUR YOUNG MEN SHALL SEE VISIONS -YOUR OLD
MEN SHALL DREAM DREAMS”…was the voice he heard
while he slept the night before the scheduled return to Earth.
Then followed that same dream he experienced their first day at
Tranquility Base, almost a month before.
The scene was identical, the sailing ship, the threat of drowning,
and, yet, there was a unique difference. He was beneath the deck
with Valerie, Sid, Mary and Mohammed. He heard those voices
top side as before, but when the hatch opened he helped his
crewmates mount the escape ladder onto the deck above.
As he lifted Mohammed, the last of the four to safety, the
centurion abruptly pushed him into the bowels of the bilge,
closing the hatch…then came that thing which was God’s sign to
an old man dreaming a dream in the Earth’s last days.
The hatch was removed a second time. From above, four hands
reached through the opening, the hands of Sid, Mohammed, Mary
and Valerie extended toward him, for his rescue. As they drew
262
him upward, their voices spoke resolutely, “Unless all stay with
the ship, we will be lost.”
At the moment he set foot on the deck, each of them cast their
eyes heavenward toward the ship’s mast. Stripped of its sail by
the ferocious storm, the barren oak beam held them transfixed.
What captured their view was not the barren timber. Instead, it
had become the image of the OLD RUGGED CROSS on whose
cross beam hung the crucified Jesus Christ, the Son of God! At
once, Lewis took his place with his four comrades, bowing before
Him who had died for each of them, the five kneeling
worshippers.
And that had been the dream’s conclusion, the five of them at the
feet of the crucified Christ, all in worship. That still small voice,
actually a whisper, spoke once more and Lewis listened. “Are
there not five, and not one was left behind. You are among them.
Go therefore unto the world. Return with My Story. For such a
time I have called you home.”
…and that explained his choice. He would be a mediator not a
martyr. He must tell HIS-STORY, the story of the five who
returned to Earth as one. Had not Christ gone to the cross for the
love of these five? Should they not do likewise in a ship sent by
Him for their rescue?
The roar he now heard was no dream. It was the power of Eagle
II’s ascent engine lifting them, just as Jesus had been lifted.
They, too, were being resurrected from a grave. Not one of the
Earth but of the Moon, ascending into the heavens above, the
place of rescue, not in Noah’s Ark, or Jonah’s great fish but in
another God-sent vessel, the Earth Return Vehicle.
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BOOK II – THE RETURN
The scheme for NANA’s Masada sites dated back to the Cold
War era of the 1950s. Missile silos, backyard bomb shelters and
like excavations were models for Akema’s present atomic
deterrent. To such excavation architecture, the Potentate’s
nefarious engineers crafted the ultimate subterranean stronghold,
a labyrinth of tunnels, caves, and mine-like shafts. These were
randomly constructed throughout
NANA’s world-wide
confederation.
The Commandant’s was typical of the lot. Hidden deep within
the Amazon Basin, the deadly facility remained his sole purpose
in life.
“What an irony,” he often thought, “I live that others might die.”
Reflections like that kept him in a constant depressed state.
NANA’s medics served up an anti-depressant diet of “uppersdowners” and tranquilizing substances which would have been
the envy of rock ‘n roll druggies long since deceased.
They’d sustained him for the past decade in his commanding
role, the Superintendent of Amazonia Detonation Site One
(ADSO). His staff of political misfits, enemies of the state, the
castoffs of Akema’s secret service had a similar diet of mind
altering narcotics.
Knowing how precarious such workers’ acts might become,
NANA’s evil scientists had implanted a death chip deep within
the cerebellum of each worker. His autocratic control was easily
maintained over these employees. The activator for each of his
six minions was embedded subcutaneously in his flesh. Of
course, only he knew their location.
A brief application of a coded tap at any of the half dozen
execution sites would terminate a rebellious employee at once.
No two week notice would be necessary. However, his overseer,
264
none other than the ultimate potentate Salik Akema, had a like
dozen “kill buttons” imbedded in his torso. The keeper of
Amazonia One was among them.
His death squad of seven was not unique among those who
manned NANA’s dozen Armageddon sites. Each had once been
an artful felon now fallen from Akema’s grace. Their respective
falls came from failing in the performance of infamy.
His
Deputy Commandant of Amazonia One was to have assassinated
one of Akema’s concubines. The woman’s wiles were akin to
Potiphar’s wife. Her seduction of the Deputy Commandant had
aborted his mission. Akema’s punishment for the failed assassin
was the assignment as Amazonia One’s munitions’ manager.
A night of lustful transgression led to a lifetime of incarceration
in the bowels of Amazonia. None of the seven Amazonites ever
entertained thoughts of escape. The futility of such musings
discouraged all hope. The closest city was five hundred miles
distant. No road, path, stream or river led to any escape from the
cavernous hell-holes which comprised ADSO.
And, of course,
any hint of such an attempt meant death, a fatal cerebral shock
from afar via radio transmission.
But Akema was not so cruel as to isolate these keepers of
NANA’s atomic deterrents from the world’s media. He, the
Commandant, knew of the plight of Eagle II’s crew. The
Amazonia Media Room (AMR), besides the link to Akema’s
office, had constant access to radio, video, and multiple
entertainment sources.
Though he was not privy to any of Akema’s inner circle of
planners, advisors, or intelligence operatives, he had an uncanny
sense regarding Akema’s thinking. From the launch of Eagle II,
he sensed the endeavor had ominous potential. This led him to
order a thorough examination of Amazonia’s Masada readiness.
Its six mine shafts, hundreds of feet in depth, had mechanical
elevators so that the six man crew could survey any location at
265
any depth. Each shaft had atomic detonators embedded atop one
another at the base.
“What an irony,” he thought, “Eagle II’s outer space rescue
might very well ignite these inner space bombs.” If that were the
case, the crew of that spaceship might return to an Earth devoid
of human life. Indeed, he realized how very lethal was Amazonia
One’s weaponry. In fact, its position would single handedly
bring death to all human and animal life southward from the
Cape of Good Hope to the farthest northern reaches of the Arctic.
ADSO was North and South America’s cyanide capsule, sure to
bring death within weeks of being launched by Akema’s
command.
Likewise would death come to the remaining continents of Earth.
The collective radioactive contagion of the remaining world-wide
excavation sites would prove more lethal than Jim Jones’ Guyana
porridge.
Instead of nine-hundred eleven dead innocents, the
count would be nine billion. And, of course, he would have the
honor of not only being the first executioner but also the first
victim. At once, Akema would judge whether he had fulfilled his
assignment. Whether he launched Amazonia’s fearful force or
not, he would not escape death. Akema would assure his fate by
virtue of that damnable implant in his cerebellum.
How he hated Salek Akema! His staff believed the hatred
stemmed from conflict with Akema’s Moslem background. The
commandant had once espoused Orthodox Judaism. But long
ago both men had strayed from their nurturing faiths. Akema’s
departure from the moderates among his Moslem brethren was
birthed by a love for international terrorism. Yet, he even loathed
the so-called insurgents, deeming them “appeasers.”
His type of Islam went beyond torture of infidels. Beheadings,
suicide bombings of innocents, even poisonings of entire cities
had become tame fare for Akema’s evil appetites. These acts
were only suited for lesser Moslem terror-mongers. He longed
for the ultimate evil act, the destruction of civilization. Only the
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lust for unspeakable riches exceeded his Earth-death-wish. But
how might he satisfy these mutually exclusive compulsions, the
want of wealth versus the wicked wish for mankind’s demise?
The Commandant had innocently provided Akema’s answer for
fulfilling the wealth-death wish. It had been birthed by a
politically expedient meeting between the men.
Akema,
disgruntled with Islam’s appeasers, had sought an equally
dissatisfied Jewish diplomat.
Their fortuitous encounter was at a third tier splinter meeting
between Jews and Moslems. Both men distained the tenor of the
higher level peace talks. They saw such as posturing for political
favor when the conflict had a sure solution, outright “winnertake-all war.” Over several glasses of wine, they cemented their
pact of aggression. Their vow stemmed from a rabid vicious
mutual paranoia, a war mongering insanity akin to that which
possesses a pyromaniac.
Actually, their respective faiths, Islam and Judaism, had nothing
to do with their cabalistic agreement. Neither man had the
slightest regard for God. Their spiritual classification would be
agnostic. Likewise, they shared no belief in demons, devils,
Satan or an overriding evil entity.
Though they were, indeed, agents of the most wicked “spirits of
the air”, nothing led them to believe such was the case. They
were masters of their own fate, not pawns of any spiritual power.
The innate hatred for all things spiritual and human could only be
fulfilled by destruction of all mankind.
Yet, each man had intellectual gifts acquired through scholarly
study of Islam and Judaism. Keen knowledge of the tenets of
their faiths had served them well. That knowledge led to world
domination using NANA’s Masada response. As the hours
passed during the evening of their first meeting, it was the
Commandant’s idea which became the evil seed. His study of
Hebrew history coupled with Akema’s delving into black market
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weaponry became a marriage birthed in Hell.
The commandant had intimate knowledge of Roman atrocities
wrought upon the first century Jews. The writings of Josephus,
the Jewish historian, author of Antiquities of the Jews, led to the
idea which stirred Akema’s evil passions.
In 73 A.D., a sect of Jews was held in bondage at Masada by
Rome’s legions. They opted for suicide rather than death by
centurion swords. This had led to Akema’s thought, “What if
those zealous Jews had possessed an arsenal of atom bombs?”
Immediately followed the Commandant’s answer, “Their act of
suicide would have included the deaths of their Roman
adversaries. In effect, the bombs would have negated the military
advantage of those forces deployed by Rome’s emperor. The
bombs need not have been dropped on the enemy. Igniting them
in the Masada camp would have deposited fallout upon all those
within miles of the site. The destruction of all life would have
resulted. Knowing the potential outcome, Rome’s legions would
have returned home.” That was Akema’s answer. He would do
likewise with his stockpile of radioactive munitions.
Akema and the commandant shook hands, concluding their
evening of wine imbibing. It was that meeting, a score of years
past, which led to his present duty as Commandant of Amazonia
One, the first Masada site. That had been the beginning. Might
Eagle II’s rescue be the end?
Though, at first, they had set forth as evil allies, Akema crafty
slyness had soon relegated the commandant to a servant’s role.
Salik was one who shared no glory with another, leave alone a
former Orthodox Jew. Rather than disposing of his former
partner, Akema assigned him the Amazonia command. The
loathsome task was equal to any duty Stalin had given a political
enemy exiled to Siberia following World War II.
268
And that was the genesis of the commandant’s hatred for Akema.
As a virtual prisoner, incarcerated behind a five hundred mile
wide wall of jungle vegetation, the commandant daily schemed
against Akema’s plans and purposes. Unfortunately, a definitive
strategy had not been forthcoming.
But with the ominous
potential of Eagle II’s return to Earth, the commandant sensed
the urgent need of a tactic. Otherwise, the Masada response was
a possibility beginning with Amazonia One.
Even if he succeeded in conceiving a plan, it would not spare his
life. Nevertheless, he would have the dying satisfaction that he
had thwarted Akema’s wish to kill nine billion innocents. Best of
all, a truly satisfactory scheme would end Akema’s reign as
NANA’s potentate.
Inexplicably, the first evidence of the plan came by accident.
The commandant had never tired of studying Hebrew Scripture
from an intellectual point of view. It was puzzling how a man
who held no belief in the “One and Only God” was certain of the
historical veracity of the Hebrew Torah and Pentateuch.
Likewise, he considered the books of the prophets historically
accurate. To that end, he had correlated Josephus’s Antiquity of
the Jews with the books of the Orthodox Jewish faith.
In his studies, he found the ever present theme of the destruction
of the Jews. The source of the underlying force seemed
altogether supernatural. However, he did not accept the concept
of the paranormal as he called anything spiritual. Yet, it was
always there, whether through the acts of heathen kings, false
prophets, or military rulers. Most remarkable was his realization
that it did not end with the completion of either Hebrew or
Christian Scripture.
Yes, he had seen it manifested in the Philistine capture of
Samson, the wicked plot of Haman, and the evil edict of King
Herod, but it had continued with the atrocities of the heinous
Adolf Hitler, a grandchild of the nth generation of Haman’s
ways. And then came the ultimate revelation, Salik Akema was
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the present agent of that which set out to kill not only all Jews but
the so-called King of the Jews, Jesus Christ of Nazareth.
At once, with this realization, the commandant’s resolve
magnified ten fold. He must destroy Akema along with his
Masada plan regardless whether there was a One and Only God
or a Savior called King of the Jews. If these writings of old were
actually true, that would, indeed, be a bonus added to the
vengeance he would achieve over the hated Salik Akema. Yes,
both Jew and Christian would be rescued from death.
Nevertheless, musings about Jewish persecutions throughout the
ages helped little in fashioning a scheme to thwart Akema’s
plans. He must delve into more practical matters: the design of
the atomic shafts, the interconnecting tunnels, and, most
importantly, the A-bomb launch and detonation systems.
While he had a rudimentary understanding of the overall
operation, he lacked detailed knowledge of the hardware and
software involved. Months ago, he began a self-taught course in
the design and function of Masada Site One, Amazonia.
He had often fretted about what made the site such a threat to
civilization. The evil place had been co-authored by him and
Akema. The concept was ideal for a third world consortium of
rogue nations.
No expensive and elaborate system of
intercontinental ballistic missiles was needed.
The A-bombs
need be lofted only to a sufficient altitude for the mushroom
clouds’ transport by wind currents.
Actually, such could be accomplished without rocketry.
Catapults known since the Middle Ages could be employed with
spring systems. These could eject the lethal munitions vertically
from the depths of the mine shafts excavated at the Masada sites.
Likewise, electro-magnetic elevator lofting schemes had
potential.
270
Early design concepts addressed each of the approaches,
rocketry, mechanical catapults, and electro-magnetic accelerators.
While rocketry showed early promise by virtue of the ability to
launch explosives quickly and accurately to detonation altitudes,
logistics was a handicap.
Having but seven men on such a remote site as Amazonia One
for building, maintaining, and servicing boosters was untenable.
Likewise, the use of electro-magnetic propulsion posed unique
difficulties.
Among them was the generation of sufficient
electrical power more than five hundred miles from civilization.
The idea of building a remote electricity generation station was
discarded. It was too complex an undertaking considering the
transportation challenge. No railroads or highways led to the site
of Amazonia One.
The last and most primitive concept won. Because Akema, at the
onset, lacked financial resources, the simple mechanical launch
system was adopted. What made these so-called Goliath Sling
Shots so threatening was first, their modest cost, second, the
inability of Consortium satellite surveillance to detect their
presence, and third, the ease of construction in the remote jungles
of the Amazon Basin. Actually, the detonation need be activated
only slightly above ground. This would allow the radioactive
cloud to drift with the random wind currents. Though not
optimum, it would ultimately accomplish its purpose: Death to
all!
The mechanical spring launchers were a brilliant “low-tech”
approach. Each A-bomb was integrated into a “spring-capsule”
atop the coiled launch system. Based on Hook’s Law, the spring
constant, and the mass of the A-bomb, a compressive force was
required to “cock the spring” in each of the A-bomb modules. A
circular iron lid was held in place by explosive bolts. It kept the
A-bomb from launching. Pyro-technic cutters severed the bolts
when the commandant sent the initiating command. With this
act, the Masada Response would begin.
After the successful
launch of the first A-bomb from shaft one, the remaining A-
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bombs from all shafts and sites launched simultaneously
according to their domino sequence within each shaft. Each
spewed skyward to several thousand feet, catapulted Jack-in-theBox fashion into the atmosphere. A timing device then detonated
them setting forth the lethal mushroom clouds of radioactive
contagion.
The modularized spring-bomb capsules were manufactured
secretly in one of NANA’s rogue nations. The term had been
coined years ago. These were, indeed, AN AXIS OF EVIL.
Shipment from them was by freighter under the guise of
“pressure vessels.” Refurbished military C-130 air freighters
transported the capsules from the seaport to the inland Amazonia
site. Huge parachutes gently landed the lethal cargo near the
commandant’s facilities.
Heavy duty All Terrain Vehicles (ATV) with fork lift
modifications lifted and transported the capsules through the
jungle vegetation to the throats of the six Amazonia A-bomb
launch shafts. A simple motorized reel dropped each capsule into
the shaft, one atop another. The firing order would be from the
top down.
Of course, computers dealt, in part, with the intricate spring
launching commands and a few other functions such as firing
order.
But actually, the detonation scheme was quite
rudimentary, a simple timer in each bomb started at launch was
set to explode after a given interval.
Unfortunately, he knew nothing of such technology. Even the
timer was a mystery to him. In order to abort Akema’s act of
world-wide vengeance, he would need a simple layman’s
solution. But despite often thinking of a way of defeating the
deployment system, he had not been successful.
He tried those mental “what-if games.” What if he simply
refused to launch the Masada response? This would prove
unfruitful. Once Akema sent the command to him, his duty was
272
to pass the initiation signal to Amazonia’s shaft igniters. But first
he must assure the system was launch ready. He was allowed
only an hour’s delay for his determination of readiness. Should
he fail to respond within that window of opportunity, Akema
would send a second command. This would instantly activate
the commandant’s cerebellum death chip as well as Amazonia’s
Masada response. Because Amazonia One focused on the United
States of America, it was key among the dozen Masada A-bomb
launcher sites. Its activation was required prior to launching
spring capsules from the others.
Occasionally, he queried his lead engineer about the simplicity
of Amazonia’s launchers. Once, he asked, “But what about
those springs left in the shaft after launching the A-bomb
munitions?
Won’t they obstruct the launch of subsequent
capsules?”
The engineer explained, “There is a small rocket charge
embedded in the base of each bomb capsule. At the release of the
spring, its igniter is delayed a few tenths of a second so that
following the spring launch, there is a second launch. Each
capsule’s remnant spring assembly is thrust from the shaft. Of
course, this is at a much reduced velocity. The spring is only
ejected several hundred feet from the launch shaft.
Everything has been carefully engineered: the delayed spring
ejection command, the strength of the capsule casings, the
specific impulse of the solid rocket ejector fuel charge, the launch
spring constant, and even the timing of the A-bomb detonation at
the prescribed altitude.
“But wouldn’t the firing of the spring-ejection charge alert the
Consortium’s Satellite surveillance network?”
“No, because the charges are always ignited hundreds of feet
below the jungle’s surface.”
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He thought about the process. Actually, it was kind of a lethal
game of Tiddly Winks. The ejecting charge blast was sort of a
capsule tiddly wink snapping the spring as a second tiddly wink
up the shaft and across the jungle terrain. This freed the shaft for
the subsequent launch of the next A-bomb capsule. The idea of
that child’s game kept returning to his thoughts. Nightly, he
began counting tiddly wink flips in order to lull himself to sleep.
At times, he even had dreams of competing in tiddly wink
tournaments.
Was someone or something trying to speak to him? Did tiddly
winks have something to do with Akema’s scheme? Perhaps, it
was an encrypted message in his mind. But who was sending it?
The tiddly wink dream was so vivid one night that he woke up
screaming. One of the winks had taken the likeness of a Masada
A-bomb capsule. It was falling in guillotine fashion from above
on his prostrate body. While he never believed dreams to be
more than a by-product of indigestion, his studies of Hebrew
orthodoxy gave him pause.
Was the horrible capsule crushing dream a sign?
It had
awakened him at the mid-night hour, and he simply could not
relax enough to sleep more. That was when he remembered the
restless night King Ahasuerus had encountered in the Book of
Esther. As a result of the King’s insomnia, Esther’s King began
reading a book, a ledger of court history. This led to a revelation
about a wicked plot to kill every Jewish person in the Kingdom.
Could this thought relate to tiddly winks and the plot to
exterminate all of mankind? Though he had no diary-like history
of Amazonia or NANA at his disposal, he did have access to the
Internet.
“Well, why not?” If it had helped Ahasuerus have a restful night,
he’d do a similar thing. He would investigate the game of tiddly
winks using the Internet to search for information. Everything
he needed to know was but a mouse-click away. After visiting
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several tiddly wink sites on the World Wide Web, he encountered
an article first posted in 1995.
A pair of sentences in the text captured his imagination. Perhaps,
that inexplicable voice was speaking through the words:
“In
competition tiddly winks, the best shots are not always those
which land in the pot but RATHER THOSE THAT MESS UP
AN OPPONENT’S GAME.”
Into that sentence the inner voice substituted the words SHOTS
with CAPSULES and OPPONENT’S GAME with AKEMA’S
SCHEME. It seemed that a physic force was planning a scheme
which used the discarded wink-like springs to mess up Akema’s
launch systems.
But how?
Apparently, that had to do with the second sentence: “In what
other game do players take into account the coefficient of friction
and Hooke’s Law?” (The latter is a tenet of physics stating that
the amount an elastic body bends out of shape is in direct
proportion to the force acting on it.)
According to the inner voice, the answer concerned friction and
Hooke’s Law. He must become an artful winker as the article
called their kind. Winkers were of two types, the brute force
players and those who employed skill.
The voice seemed to
suggest he be the latter type, a crafty expert winker combating
Akema’s plot to destroy all mankind.
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Rendezvous, Docking, and Departure
Mohammed deftly pulsed the ascent module’s thrusters with the
orientation hand controller. This was the maneuver which nearly
killed Armstrong, Aldrin, and Collins when the Eagle docked
with Columbia for the 1969 ride back to Earth. Something had
gone amiss so that Eagle virtually crash docked with Columbia.
Yet, the crushed docking mechanisms leaked not one molecule of
cabin oxygen into the vacuum of space. Those who believed in
divine intervention giving the Americans victory in the Moon
race argue that this incident is proof.
But Mohammed experienced no such docking aberration. Soon
the five Eagle II passengers were in the ERV watching the
jettisoned ascent stage depart. Of course, Justin had been slung
through the docking tunnel in a body bag. His final resting place
was stowage in the ERV’s lower equipment bay where he would
remain during the journey to Earth.
Each crew member pledged a pact of silence about Justin Lewis.
This was best should secret audio and video surveillance be
hidden aboard the rescue ERV.
Likely, there would be
opportunities to sneak liquid nourishment into Justin’s gurney
bag. A one centimeter diameter tube led from the ERV’s liquid
nutrient dispenser into Justin’s mouth.
Hopefully, no on-board hidden video would perceive the
infrequent connecting of the tube to the ERV’s crew “squirt gun.”
Should there be evidence that the MOCR was suspicious of
Justin’s body bag ruse, his watering and feeding would cease.
One could survive the eighty hour trip home with neither.
As for Justin’s body being bumped or bruised by the ERV’s
Earth Injection Burn, a mid-course correction firing of the main
engine, or the final reentry forces, Mary Evers jury rigged
padding about his torso. Actually, the cushion consisted of the
life raft stowed as a contingency option should the ERV’s entry
276
capsule veer off-course into seas far removed from the recovery
ship. There were two such rafts. Strapping them to either side of
Justin’s bag covered body prevented any mechanical rocket force
from being a problem. Indeed, he would be less jolted than his
crewmates.
*
*
*
*
*
While Astronaut Evers positioned protection about Justin’s body,
another was positioning protection about his body, a quarter
million miles from Eagle II. The place was the Oval Office, the
person was William Conders, the protection was a bullet proof
Kevlar vest worn under his custom fitted silk dress shirt.
From the moment he had chosen to keep Akema ignorant of
Eagle II’s status, a strange paranoia had vexed President
Conders’s mind. It was an inexplicable sense of dread.
He had never believed in premonitions though his wife often
aggravated him with her “woman’s intuition” as she called it.
However, when she bolted awake one night screaming, his view
of such psychic warnings changed. She claimed to have a
“knowing” their daughter had just been kidnapped.
Sadly, not only was their child found to be kidnapped, but later
her life had been taken.
Regardless of whether only he knew of his intent to scam Akema,
the darkness he felt must be a sign of terrible future
consequences. Unfortunately, he could not seek his wife’s
counsel. She might divulge his plan to her confidant, one she
called her “spirit guide”, a woman who employed Tarot cards,
astrology and other occult practices for guidance.
Nevertheless, if Conders decided Justin Lewis was alive, he
would likewise execute the entire crew of Eagle II without
consulting Akema. Conders had his CI agents in place to do his
bidding at his command. They, like those four unfortunates,
would likewise meet their fate shortly thereafter. Conders had
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arranged a splashdown party for the entire rescue team.
However, the Retros would be drinking alcoholic libation spiked
with anti-freeze, a sure but clandestine poison, always lethal
within weeks of imbibing.
But he was certain that Akema would be angered beyond
measure should a misjudgment of Lewis’s mortality occur.
Discovery of an alive Lewis would forfeit both men’s bounty.
Akema would never forgive such an outcome. Likely, an
incensed Akema would launch the MASADA RESPONSE. This
would be Salik’s choice rather than face a coup. Opposing forces
in NANA would be able to capitalize on Conders and Akema’s
evil plan to murder Eagle II’s crew. Likewise, impeachment and
incarceration would be in store for Conders.
Despite this potential, Conders had made the determination that
he would be better able to judge Lewis’s status than Akema.
Akema would wish to err on the side of killing the crew.
However, Akema had neither the means nor knowledge to
perform such an execution. Conders alone served in that role.
Because of that, he would act fairly and justly. Perhaps, there
remained within him yet a small measure of integrity despite the
heinous acts he and Akema had crafted. Their felonious ways
would earn them unspeakable riches from the secret insurance
policy on Justin Lewis’s life.
It would have been so much easier if that message had not been
broadcast from the Moon, telling the World of Eagle II’s
survival.
There would have been no rescue mission and,
likewise, no wrestling between Conders’s greed and decency.
He did want to see those four remaining astronauts reunited with
their families and friends. It was something that stirred inside,
the kind of thing he once felt for his daughter. If only those
responsible for her death had felt that way, things might have
ended happily.
*
*
*
*
*
278
All discourse on board Eagle II, apart from routine operations,
was a language of nods, winks, hand gestures, and lip syncing.
This was their “rescue-speak” way of silently communicating.
Prior to launch, the four had crafted this foreign tongue. All
were certain the ERV had on board audio and video surveillance.
A momentary lapse in vigilance about Justin being alive would
be their death sentence. A dead Justin was their ticket home.
In the first several hours of preparing the ERV for the EarthReturn burn, Mohammed and Sid had uncovered a pair of audio
“bugs” as well as three hidden video cameras. One of these
onboard
spy eyes resided in the Flight Director Attitude
Indicator, the FDAI or “the eight ball.” The panel mounted
globe-like ball pitched, rolled and yawed in unison with like
movements of the ERV. The six inch diameter ball had
graduated markings able to tell the crew how much pitch, roll, or
yaw had resulted from a thruster firing.
An extra mark was found. It was centered in the letter “o” of the
manufacturer’s name, printed on the ball’s surface. Through the
capital “O” of Omega Industries was a small glass lens pointed
into the cabin. The view of the lens looked around the cabin in
sync with the FDAI orientation.
“Very clever,” thought Sid, “vehicle movement allows the video
bug to randomly survey the entire cabin.”
However, the most novel video plant was an imaging matrix
circularly imbedded around the nozzle of the ERV’s water gun.
The miniature imaging sensors were actually a decorative ring
looping around the orifice of the crew’s “squirt gun”. When the
gun’s nozzle moved toward an astronaut’s mouth, it imaged the
cabin interior according to the pointed direction of the water gun.
Of course, ultimately, the spies saw only lips, teeth, and
tongues…not much help in determining Justin’s status.
However, had this been the nutrient gun chosen to feed Lewis, all
would have been lost.
279
Dealing with these surveillance bugs was going to be a problem.
Yet, Mohammed devised a unique solution. When the crew
needed to discuss a sensitive situation dealing with Lewis or a
survival strategy, Mohammed would perform a deep space
communication test.
A portion of the test called for termination of all communication
to and from the ERV. Only by isolating on board communication
performance could the components be verified.
The time
prescribed for the communication “black-out” was sixty seconds.
At the conclusion of the “blanking” period, the system was
initialized so that the hi-gain and omni-antenna could reacquire
lock. This confirmed system operation.
Though this gave the crew only a minute to confer, that was
adequate. Sixty seconds was ample time for discussion hidden
from MOCR ears and eyes. The first use of the procedure
enabled Sid and Mohammed to alert Valerie and Mary about the
location of the on board video and audio bugs.
If the crew could remain above suspicion until reentry, there
would be a final planning period.
Reentry afforded several
minutes for communication blackout. At that time, the scheme
for revealing Justin alive could be finalized.
The entry radio silence was caused by the friction of capsule
entry. Superheated ionized air molecules formed a plasma layer.
This was expected, a period when final prayers and plans would
be made.
Prior to the Moon return launch, the crew composed a
chronological video of every event in their fight for survival. It
included the initial ERV explosion, the communication blackout
ordered by mission control, the trek to Apollo 16’s rover to call
for help, the revelation about Akema and Conders’s insurance
scam, the fake autopsy, and other evidence. The video would
irrefutably detail the evil acts perpetrated to kill the Eagle II
crew.
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Should some kind of entry mishap, either planned or accidental
happen, the video would foil the scheme which had led to their
deaths. It would be sort of a posthumous “whistle-blowers”
message to the world. There would be more than enough
evidence to reconstruct the crime which had almost stranded the
five Eagle II explorers on the Moon.
Since neither Akema nor Conders knew the crew was aware of
the insurance scam, there was hope that all would live to report
the scheme. However, once the recovery team found Lewis
alive, the timing of telling the “real story of Eagle II’s rescue”
was critical. Valerie hoped that Uncle Ivan’s friend had put in
place a plan to immediately arrest Conders and overthrow
Akema. This was essential once the crime was broadcast. She
began to pray that such was the case.
Mohammed’s sixty second comm-checks had to be random and
infrequent to avoid suspicion. One per day was customary.
However, more time was needed for planning ocean egress from
the ERV capsule. How would they reveal Justin was alive?
Obviously, if he were to simply climb from the capsule’s hatch
behind his four crewmates, chaos would insure. Every media
source in NANA and the Consortium would be alerted. Perhaps,
Akema would immediately initiate the Masada Response?
The crew’s consensus was: Leave Justin in the entry capsule.
Let the retrieval “copter” haul the ERV onto the carrier deck.
Then, require that the ground team allow Sid and Valerie,
Justin’s comrades, entry into the capsule to remove his corpse.
This would be a dignified process. The two would respectfully
lift their friend from the capsule and deposit his body-bagged
corpse in a coffin. The coffin would be positioned directly
beneath the capsule’s hatch.
No one was to photograph or look on Justin Lewis’s dead body
in respect for his contribution to all mankind. In fact, in honor of
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Justin’s avid Christian faith, all on deck were to bow their heads
in prayer during the entire processional.
Astronaut Mary Evers would pray a prayer of commemoration
for Justin Lewis’s life and sacrifice. The four live members of
Eagle II’s crew would accompany Justin to the carrier’s medical
bay for final physical exams and Justin Lewis’s autopsy.
Before more could be planned, Mohammed warned that the
communication test was about complete. The blackout would
end in ten seconds. Discussion ceased.
*
*
*
*
*
Jenny passed the request to Eagle II’s crew from her console in
the MOCR, “Eagle II, your communication checks are complete.
All systems found nominal.”
The TELMU smiled knowing that his only important duty that
day was successful. All was well with his system. However, he
remained confused by the violation of mission operations
protocol.
It concerned video and audio air to ground
transmissions. It was puzzling that the Retro Officers were
given priority in reviewing all audio and video from the ERV.
Even more disconcerting was that he suspected these recently
assigned flight controllers had access to communication channels
not available to him, the TELMU Officer. Some kind of unusual
surveillance was at work, for Retro eyes and ears only.
Though this confused the TELMU, Jenny, the GUIDO, and the
appointed Insurance Office were well aware of why the Reentry
Officers had secret information from Eagle II.
This was
Conders’s
means
of
determining Lewis’s
mortality.
Unfortunately, there was no way of knowing what the entry
officers were hearing or seeing.
282
The three allies, Jenny, the GUIDO, and their unknown
supporter, the IO, felt dread each time the Retro left his seat in
the MOCR. They suspected the absence was a backroom review
of evidence from Eagle II that Lewis might be alive.
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Shrouded Thoughts
Justin Lewis thought about his temporary incarceration. His
torso was enshrouded in a type of body-bag, “Perhaps, this was
what Jesus experienced when his body resurrected from the
dead?”
Lewis
had often wondered what his Savior might have
experienced that resurrection day, finding himself enclosed in
that shroud.
“Was it akin to awaking under a bed sheet?”
For Christ, it had been only a brief moment in that linen fabric.
For Lewis, it promised to last for scores of hours while Eagle II
returned to Earth.
Such a setting encouraged reflection,
especially about prospects of survival.
What-if games occupied his time. There would be a marathon
of them. Shortly after the second of the “comm-checks” when
the crew could talk freely, Lewis had a troubling thought, “Even
if we succeed in hiding my death, Akema and Conders, likely,
will plant executioners aboard the recovery carrier. They would
want to assure there is no chance they have been deceived.”
Lewis wondered, “How can we thwart those death mongers?”
A still small voice of recollection stirred in Lewis’s mind:
you remember the Apollo 13 reentry in April of 1970.
Do
Indeed, he had often shared testimonies about miraculous final
minutes of the rescue. It had to do with the mystery of an added
half minute of radio blackout. The phenomena had never been
satisfactorily explained.
Unknown to the Apollo 13 Retro,
vapor from the attached lunar module’s cooling system was
veering reentry off-course.
284
Despite repeated corrective engine firings, Apollo 13’s crew
capsule drifted above the entry corridor, the prescribed angle for
success. Then the ship entered the fiery descent path and no
communication was possible.
The question was, “Had the drift imperiled the crew?”
When the lifting of the radio silence continued past the
appointed time, dark thoughts flooded the MOCR.
The angle of entry had been violated ending the lives of Lovell
and crew.
Perhaps, the command module had descended too steeply,
consuming the crew in a fiery death. Such would explain the
continued silence. Then, exactly 31 seconds later, came the
voices of Apollo 13’s crew, an inexplicable miracle.
Lewis had analyzed the event from both an entry dynamics and
spiritual perspective. Searching Scripture, he found a like
incident in the book of Daniel, the third chapter. The account,
like Apollo 13’s, had three men in, not the fiery furnace of
reentry, but an actual furnace. Death was certain for the three
Hebrews, Shadrack, Meshach, and Abednego. Their insolent
refusal to worship King Nebuchadnezzar had earned them such
punishment.
As Lewis thought of that incident years past, he began to
understand why God was bringing it to mind as Eagle II
approached Earth. Akema was a type of that Old Testament
King. He, like Nebuchadnezzar, likely, was about to thrust the
five of them into a fiery furnace of death
But Lewis and his team had prayed. By faith, they believed in
Christ for the same result of Apollo 13’s crew. Lovell, Swigert
and Haise had been blessed by prayers offered by millions of
Christian believers.
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Apollo 13 had sailed through the fire as had those three Jewish
youths. Lewis found what had made the difference in
Nebuchadnezzar’s oven. The Scripture made it apparent…there
was another in the furnace. That other person was described as
like unto the son of God.
Who was that fourth man in the furnace? It had to be none other
than the Lord Jesus Christ. He was with Lovell, Haise, and
Swigert as well. Surely, He would not forsake the Eagle II crew.
While that was Lewis’s explanation, he was troubled about such
happening to another astronaut crew returning from the Moon.
What if their entry capsule was compromised such that the
reentry parachute system would not deploy properly? In that
case, why must there be only an option for disaster and none for
salvation? There must be a second option. Could not Apollo 13
have reentered into what orbital dynamics called a low Earth
orbit or LEO for short? If a rescue vehicle had been available,
akin to the space shuttle, it might have rendezvous with the
orbiting capsule saving the crew.
Of course, for Apollo 13 that could not have happened since the
entry batteries had limited capacity to sustain the electrical
systems for more than a dozen hours. But, it was amazing, that
such a maneuver might be used by Eagle II should an unknown
flaw have been planted in the parachute mechanism.
Eagle
II employed fuel cells rather than batteries. These were capable
of sustaining life for days rather than hours. Given the luxury of
time, alternative rescues from LEO were certainly feasible.
Lewis sensed that these thoughts were from beyond himself as
Scripture promised…”My thoughts are higher than your
thoughts…my ways higher than yours…” was his paraphrase for
what he was thinking.
He recalled actually investigating the reentry to low Earth orbit
near the time of his retirement. A pair of flight controllers,
Christian friends at the Johnson Space Center, had been given the
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request via an e-mail. Prior to launch of Eagle II, Lewis had
entered his query and their conclusion in his DA’s memory:
Doug and Phil:
I have another of those "knotty problems" regarding flight dynamics.
The question came up as a result of speculating on astronauts
attempting to reenter on a return from the Moon.
The idea evolved that the crew, based on some peril, or landing in a
perilous situation, might opt to simply return to LEO. Of course, the
operative concept has always been the stone/pond analog…too steep
you sink and burn up, too shallow you skip off into oblivion. But what
about a third option, i.e., reenter to low Earth orbit without the use of a
retro burn. Only the heat shield would be used in a judicious fashion
such that thrusters could cause the entry vector to "dig-in" then
"shallow" out so that there would be a gradual loss of velocity reaching,
finally, the orbital velocity of approximately 5.5 miles per second. It
would be akin to the stone skipping across the pond striking the water
in subsequent skips, slowing the projectile to orbital velocity.
If the crew had, as with Apollo 13, separated from the service module
or other type ERV, facing reentry with only the crew capsule, heat
shield, thrusters, etc., could they accomplish this? Could you guys give
me some smarts on this, as to its plausibility?
Godspeed to you all! Justin
The next day came the “witty-invention”, at least with regard to
Eagle II’s salvation:
Justin:
NASA calls this technique "aerocapture." The spacecraft enters the
atmosphere at an angle that guarantees skip out, but slows the velocity
by a precise amount to achieve a specific apoapsis (highest point in the
orbit) altitude after it exits the atmosphere.
Guidance algorithms have been developed for active control using
thrusters and control surfaces during atmospheric flight to achieve the
desired exit conditions (velocity, flight path angle, inclination, altitude).
Apollo guidance had a "second entry" option, where it could enter the
atmosphere, skip out, and enter again to its final landing site. This
option was never used, but it could have been used to avoid a
287
hurricane or other bad weather.
An Apollo command module might not have had enough propellant for
its reaction control system thrusters to raise perigee (periapsis at Earth)
to a safe altitude.
“Aha,” thought Justin, “Eagle II has considerably more
propellant than Apollo 13’s entry capsule. Likely, the option of
entering to LEO is achievable. If so, based on what is in store for
our entry, an alternate landing site might be selected where
Akema must find us…it will be a game of entry “hide and seek.”
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Amazonia
Akema was pleased. He had just accessed his personal account
balance, hidden in an offshore financial institution of one of
NANA’s third world nations. Funds were trickling in from the
insurance underwriter. The account and its deposit process had
been innovated long ago by one of Akema’s now deceased
financial advisors. The man’s untimely death remained a
mystery.
Though the account had no trace-back link to Akema, he
controlled disbursements through an encrypted ID and password.
At the moment of Eagle II’s Earth landing, he would have
accrued an added fortune exceeding a billion dollars. And with
the depositing of Lewis’s corpse on the carrier deck, his wealth
would push into the multi-billionaire realm. Of course, he and
President Conders had benevolently funded the rescue of those
four unfortunates accompanying Lewis from these insurance
resources. But what remained greatly exceeded that expense.
Despite his pleasure, he resented Conders receiving a like reward.
Conders had not been the architect of this scam. Only, he,
Akema, was gifted in such felonious ways. It was expected of
him, but Conders was not deserving. How Akema wished he
could reveal just how evil the Consortium’s president had
become! Unfortunately, such a revelation would forfeit Akema’s
wealth as well. So be it!
But if Conders in any way misbehaved, jeopardizing Akema’s
reward, he would do infinitely more than tell the world of
Conders’ complicity.
He would launch the MASADA RESPONSE! Yes, he, Akema,
would perish, but so would Conders. That would bring him the
utmost satisfaction.
*
*
*
*
*
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Why hadn’t a solution come? He’d had clues about using friction
and an adaptation of Hooke’s Law to “mess up” Akema’s
scheme. Again, he consulted Amazonia’s lead engineer about
Masada readiness. Were the capsules in place, the shafts clear,
deployment circuitry tested, and most importantly, his crew ready
to act on Akema’s command?
Perhaps, he should delve into the meaning of Hooke’s Law. Yes,
he would do that immediately. Time was short. Eagle II’s entry
was but days away. If there were to be an incident which so
enraged Akema to launch the capsules, it was imminent.
He discovered Hooke’s Law related to the ability of a substance
to possess potential energy. By compressing a spring with force,
the compressing force was, indeed, stored in the coiled spring
awaiting release. A simple equation utilized by Amazonia’s lead
engineer decreed each capsule would achieve an altitude of five
thousand feet before detonation.
Since the shafts were ten miles apart, the shock of subsequent
explosions would not impact subsequent launches. The firing
order was domino-like. However, the very first capsule launched
from the base camp’s shaft had to perform nominally for the
process to continue. Any anomaly in capsule one, shaft one’s
deployment and detonation would abort the entire MASADA
RESPONSE. This was the same thinking on which early
rocketeers based their launches. Operations should cease in the
event of an initial malfunction so that the launch facility would
be preserved.
That early launch of the Soviet’s Moon rocket proved the point.
When one of its 32 first stage engines failed, the entire rocket and
launch facility exploded. Scores of pad workers perished. Had
the launch ceased with the failure of the first misfiring rocket, all
would have been saved.
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Amazonia’s commandant took comfort in knowing he need only
abort the first capsule’s launch to spoil Akema’s plans. This
reduced the challenge to solving a single equation, i.e., how to
take advantage of friction and Hooke’s Law. Somehow they must
combat the ascent of capsule one, keeping it from spewing forth
its death cloud of radiation.
He pressed the engineer to answer how the capsule knew to
detonate its charge. How could the capsule know it had reached
the altitude of nearly a mile?
“It is done with an accelerometer. Newton’s laws dictate that the
altitude equals one half times the acceleration multiplied by the
time squared.
The equation can be solved for time knowing
acceleration and the prescribed altitude of five thousand feet.
The acceleration is determined by combining the force of the
released spring, the force of gravity and the force of air resistance
using Newton’s first law. The law states that force equals the
capsule mass times the acceleration. Again, solving the formula
for acceleration and knowing the combined force applied to the
capsule mass provides the variable acceleration in the previous
formula.
Each capsule has an on board timer, i.e., a clock. It is nothing
more than a terrorist might use to detonate an IED. Having
calculated the time setting as I have described, the clock is set to
detonate the A-bomb at that time. The clock starts at launch.
Because the entire process is mechanical, no electronic failure,
flawed wiring, or radio jamming signal can interfere with the
explosion. This is consistent with NANA’s philosophy. It is the
kind of approach which makes terrorism so difficult to thwart:
sacrificing lives requires no sophistication.
People make better igniters, guidance systems, and transporters.
Suicide bombers don’t need to be preserved. They, like their
munitions, are deadly and expendable.”
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The Commandant thought about his implanted brain chip.
consistent with NANA’s plans and purposes.
It was
He asked still another question, “But what if shaft friction
increases or the spring force lessens?”
The engineer responded, “Without fail, the bomb will always
detonate at its preset time. However, those factors will lessen the
altitude at which the capsule releases its radioactive cloud. “
The commandant’s inner voice spoke once more, “Increase
friction, weaken the capsule’s spring, and Akema’s plot will be
foiled.”
And he asked, “But how can I do that?”
“Soon, I will tell you…”
“Was that the voice’s answer, or simply what the commandant
wanted to know?”
If there was to be an answer, it would have to be given in the next
few days. What could he do? It seemed important to descend
into the shaft and examine the first capsule. He would do that
this very evening.
*
*
*
*
*
There was more to it than saving Eagle II’s crew. Five live
rescued souls meant little if their rescue ignited Akema’s Masada
Response. Ultimately, they along with billions, would perish, a
by-product of finding Justin Lewis alive. Little did Uncle Ivan
know that his innocent death-bed request might lead to the
salvation of all mankind.
An alive Justin Lewis posed a problem with regard to President
Conders’s future. Both the American Congress and Consortium
politicians would quickly depose him with incarceration and
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impeachment. It was unlikely that the Vice President would
grant pardon for such a terrible abuse of power.
It was Akema who was the fuse which might prove fatal to
billions. As efforts to rescue Valerie and her crewmates had
unfolded, a like plan to depose Akema emerged. Again, were it
not for the unspoken cabal of former KGB operatives, such
would have been futile. Among NANA’s confederation were
such men and women. None possessed a love for communism.
They found the ways of the former Soviet system repulsive.
What motivated their mutual allegiance was a comradeship.
As the Soviet Union collapsed, extreme peril threatened all.
Many had assassinated political enemies of the state. These acts
were on orders from the ruling class. Each agent saw such duties
as akin to a foot soldier’s defense of his nation, firing a lethal
shot on an enemy combatant. It had nothing to do with illegal
murder. Nevertheless, following the USSR’s collapse, families
and friends of the politically deceased sought to hunt down and
avenge the deaths of loved ones. Such vengeance resulted in
many former agents fleeing to NANA’s third world nations. In
this way, the evil Akema became their protector.
Yet, above allegiance to Akema remained loyalty to one another,
whether a citizen of the Consortium or NANA. It was this bond
which he had called on to plan Akema’s downfall. Actually, the
plan was already in place long before Eagle II had launched.
No third world nation was free of underground revolutionaries
and neither was NANA. It was such a group which his comrades
had infiltrated. Some had risen to exalted levels in the Akema
government. It was one among them who had discovered the
insurance scam as it related to Justin Lewis’s life aboard Eagle II.
Likewise, the agent had intimate knowledge of Akema’s
psychosis. That knowledge had been telling. It was the source of
how grave a threat Eagle II’s rescue was. An enraged Akema
was certain to launch the MASADA response.
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*
*
*
*
*
“It is late commandant. Is there a problem you wish to review?”
asked the sentry guarding the mouth of Amazonia shaft one.
“No, there is not a problem, but I must assure that the capsule
launching mechanisms are in place. We are very aware that our
potentate has ordered Masada readiness in light of Eagle II’s
return. Why, I am uncertain. Nevertheless, it troubles me that I
have not examined the status of the shaft for several months.
Assist me in doing so.”
At once, the sentry began cranking the jack lever providing the
mechanical advantage to retract the ten foot diameter lid
covering shaft one. The covering was essential to protecting the
stacked capsules from the corrosive environment of the Amazon
Basin. The volume of air existing between the lid and capsules
was cooled and dehumidified.
This preserved the shaft’s
cylindrical wall in pristine state for capsule launch into the
atmosphere.
“Commandant, the descent platform is ready.”
Again, the crude technology of NANA and its Masada launch
sites were used. Among these was an elevator platform. Actually,
it was no more than a primitive basket. Such served as the means
of descent. Its engine was the pulley system cranked by the
onboard operator. Descending was not challenging as gravity
assisted the cranking. Ascent was somewhat difficult even with
the mechanical advantage of the pulley system. However, the
sentry was a powerful man whose well-honed arm muscles were
altogether equal to the task.
Encaged in the elevator, the commandant studied the character of
the shaft wall surface. It glistened under the beam of his
flashlight. He recalled those months of construction more than a
decade in the past. The hollow cylinder sections were parachuted
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onto the jungle clearing several hundred feet from shaft one’s
excavation.
He had been told the stainless steel cylinders had once had other
purposes. They had been destined to serve as a storm sewer, a
tunnel for a Minute Man missile site in the American Rocky
Mountains. NANA’s military planners had adapted them to the
MASADA project. Construction had proceeded with each
section being lowered atop its preceding cylinder, welded in
place, and the seam polished so that the shaft looked like a single
stainless steel chimney implanted in the Amazon jungle.
While the shaft had primitive beginnings, the capsules were
altogether clever inventions of atomic warfare. Each had been
manufactured in a former European satellite behind the infamous
IRON CURTAIN. The country’s dictator had been persuaded by
Akema to ally with NANA.
The despot was destined for apprehension by the newly
established democratic government. Likely, a trial would ensue
with a verdict of lifetime incarceration or death. Prior to the
peaceful change of administrations, a band of cohorts loyal to the
former dictator managed to transport hundreds of the capsules
onto a freighter bound for one of Akema’s non-aligned nations.
Though the former dictator had been promised asylum among
NANA’s confederation, when the freighter arrived, the despot
had somehow not been found on board with the capsules. The
capsules had found their way to Amazonia, brought by helicopter
then carefully deposited one atop another in the Amazonia launch
shafts.
“This is as deep as we can go.”
The Commandant glanced over the side of the cage at the top
surface of the capsule below.
The capsule’s cylindrical
circumference snugly contacted the inner surface of the shaft.
There was no means of examining the contents of any of the
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death bombs. Each rested untouched since their placement years
past. He wondered about their launch readiness. Who could
tell whether they remained operational? Perhaps, nothing need
be done to thwart Akema’s scheme? If the capsule below failed,
there would be no Masada response. But that was too great a risk
to take. He must devise a way to defeat this atomic poison pill.
“I’ve seen enough. All looks to be in order. Let’s ascend.”
When the shaft protective lid had been closed, the Commandant
returned to his quarters. The excitement of descending to the
base of the shaft made sleep difficult. Once more, he felt
compelled to examine Hebrew Scripture for guidance. Puzzled
by this renewed interest, long since latent, he randomly opened
the text to the account of Samson’s captivity by the Philistines.
His sentiments were much like Samson’s. Akema was a latter
day Philistine, keeping the commandant captive at Amazonia.
How he wished he might bring down the potentate in the same
fashion Samson had destroyed his Philistine jailors.
The
enchained strong man had pulled down a pair of pillars,
collapsing tons of temple stone on the heathen hoards. Would
that he might do the same. Of course, like Samson’s feat, it
would cost the commandant his life.
Slumber came, and the heavy book dropped from his hands.
Though it struck his chest, it failed to wake him. However, it
could not have been more than an hour when one of those
predictable jungle rains did awaken him. The rainy season was
like that. One could almost set a clock by the predictability of
the afternoon and evening rains.
It had to do with the meteorology of the eco-system. The warm
air by day drinking in excess the moisture to a saturation point.
Unable to contain the liquid brew, the night air cooled its dancing
molecules, and the rains fell. Why the same happened each
afternoon and evening, he did not understand. But the rain
always came daily, at about the same time.
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As a child, commanded by his orthodox parents to attend
Scripture studies, he recalled verses memorized about the rains.
One had frightened him. It had to do with the wrath of God. His
parents often reminded him not to be so prideful as to ignore
God.
At the time, he had believed them. Later, he came to reject all
that they believed. He had no regard for their holy book or their
faith. Yet, that Scripture came to mind as he listened to the rain
pelt the overhead foliage.
“When he is about to fill his belly…God shall cast the fury of his
wrath upon him, and shall RAIN IT UPON HIM WHILE HE IS
EATING.”
The warning had been, “Don’t be so taken in your pride that God
shall punish you for your evil ways.”
Yes, he had been altogether evil, but a novice compared to
Akema. If there was a God, why had he not rained his wrath
upon him as promised?
Then came the voice, “You can be my rain.”
At first he discharged the thought as another of those useless
clues like the idea of friction and Hooke’s Law.
He said the words aloud,
RAIN.”
“FRICTION, HOOKE’S LAW,
Somehow, they were the answer, but not the whole answer.
What was missing?
He remembered the engineer’s explanation of the detonation
timer. It always ignited the bomb at a prescribed moment after
launch. If he were able to reduce the altitude, the capsule
achieved at the set time, far less atomic radiation would
contaminate the atmosphere.
297
One of the forces acting against achieving the planned altitude
was aerodynamic friction. Controlling that was impossible. The
only other contribution to friction was the shinny surface of the
shaft. It was unthinkable that he could sandpaper the surface
sufficiently to affect the capsule’s altitude. “SAND-paper!”
That was it…the SAND, but it was not exactly sand. There was a
huge pile of sand-like granules left from the original construction
of Amazonia’s cinder block housing. It was powdered cement
which when rained upon became concrete. “That
was
the
answer!”
God’s wrath would fall on Akema by pouring powdered cement
into the shaft.
The predictable jungle rain would fall from
heaven on Akema’s Masada parade. Set in hardened concrete,
the first capsule would not be able to leave the shaft. At the
appointed time, the bomb would explode scores of feet beneath
the Earth. Likely, the damage would be confined to the shaft
such that even the residents of Amazonia might survive.
Time
was short, Eagle II was nearing its mid point in the Moon to
Earth journey. So near that he must act immediately while his
crew slumbered. It was not yet two o’clock. The sentry would
still be at his post.
Quietly, the commandant walked to the mouth of the shaft.
“Oh, its you again.”
“I’m still worried about our launch readiness. Would you take
the OTV to shaft two and confirm that the lid removal
mechanism is working? I’ll take the other OTV to shaft three.
After you check shaft two check four and six, and I’ll be
verifying five.”
He watched the sentry’s OTV disappear into the jungle darkness.
Yes, he took the second OTV, but not to shaft three. Instead, he
attached the OTV’s trailer and drove to the shed containing the
cement. After shoveling several hundred pounds of the powder
298
into the wagon-like trailer, he returned to the mouth of the shaft,
cranked open the lid and dumped the trailer’s contents into shaft
one.
Immediately, he returned the lid to its closed position.
The following night, he would complete “messing up” Akema’s
scheme by secretly opening the lid.
He awakened that morning to the sound of the sentry’s OTV
returning from his trip to shaft number six. The plan was in
place.
Another verse came to mind, though he didn’t think it from
Hebrew Scripture,
“The rain falls on the just and the unjust.”
299
Failure Is Not an Option*
Neither Retro understood fully the nature of their assignment.
While they were aware of their status as saboteurs as well as the
means of executing the crew, they were uncertain about the
motive. Likewise, they knew not who would be making the final
decision about Eagle II’s rescue. Yet, they were not so naïve as
to believe failure would be without consequences. Were they not
replacements for four flight controllers who had died
mysteriously?
Failure would not be an option. Obviously, those four had
known more than they knew about a plot involving the Eagle II
mission. Their only clue was that the President would speak
coded words indicating what they should do, save or sink the
mission. For all they knew, it might be Conders himself who was
calling the shots.
Added audio and video monitoring of Eagle II’s cabin had been
provided them. Only their eyes and ears were privy to on board
activities. For that reason, a secure, isolated room in the Building
45 data facility had been provided. It was the same area where
they had previewed the explosion of the original ERV during
their first days at the space center.
The Retro Officers alternated visiting the facility to review the
surveillance tapes. While one Retro manned the MOCR console
the other reviewed the auxiliary audio and video for signs that
Justin Lewis was alive. During the first 55 hours of the return,
absolutely nothing heard or seen indicated Lewis was alive.
They were very much aware that the Insurance Officer sought the
same information, only without the benefit of these added data
channels.
“Should the IO have been aware of their plans and purposes, he
would have been pleased,” was their thought.
300
They were simply assuring what had been claimed was true, and,
if not, they had the means of making it so. Either way, the policy
would be paid to whomever was the beneficiary.
Careful
study of the “squirt gun” camera identified the location of
Lewis’s corpse in the lower equipment bay, near the initial ERV
explosion. Each time the camera recorded the body bag, the
covering was closely watched for movement. None was apparent
leading them to believe Lewis was indeed deceased.
But these were men skilled in criminal forensic analysis. To that
end, they devised a sure means of detecting any inadvertent
movement by a live person contained in the bag. Rather than
watch the video frame by frame, they chose a snap shot approach.
It was much like a cartoonist might use to create an animation.
By collecting images ten minutes apart and reconstructing them
into an animation, any movement within the bag would be
obvious. No live subject could hope to lock every muscle and
bone motionless over so long a period of time.
Until they conceived that idea, neither Retro had evidence that
Lewis was alive. But when they collected their snapshots and
constructed them into the animation, it was obvious someone was
alive in the body satchel. There was absolutely no question about
the fact that substantial movement was evident when the snap
shot animation was played. At once, their secret was passed to
their superiors at CI.
It was not for them to determine whether Eagle II would be
destroyed. That was to come from much higher levels than their
pay grade. Their instruction was to come from the words of
President Conders.
The message was clear: When the rescue ERV’s reentry
sequence was to begin, a message would be forthcoming from the
mission Public Affairs’ Officer (PAO). The PAO would interrupt
international media broadcasts to transmit a statement of hope
from President Conders for the crew of Eagle II. The gold Retro
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was to listen carefully. If President Conders said, “Welcome
home crew of Eagle II…” the crew was to be allowed to descend
safely. But if the President’s words were, “Death has been
defeated by the Consortium’s heroic rescue effort…”, the fatal
ERV option was to be executed.
Knowing Justin Lewis was
alive, they need only wait for the decision to come, death or life.
*
*
*
*
*
An uneasiness began to affect Jenny, the GUIDO, and the IO.
The Retro Officers were no longer leaving frequently to review
the secret telemetry links from Eagle II. Even the TELMU noted
the abrupt change in the number of times either Retro had walked
to Building 45 to review those added audio and video channels.
Obviously, they had found what they were looking for. THEY
KNEW JUSTIN LEWIS WAS ALIVE AND HAD PASSED
THE INFORMATION TO THE PERPETRATORS!
Knowing this clue shifted the three allies into high alert. Every
word voiced by either Retro on the internal communication
channels along with all commands send to the ERV originated by
these agents were carefully examined by Jenny and the GUIDO.
The IO realized his role in the MOCR was complete. He could
do nothing more. It was up to Jenny and the GUIDO. However,
there was a role he would serve elsewhere. To that end he
advised his superiors that he was certain Lewis was deceased
which would end his assignment in the MOCR. Though he
awaited their direction, he would play a role in determining it.
*
*
*
*
*
There was no need to use their secret signal at this point. A
simple glance between them was enough. Each knew they
should confer at the conclusion of the shift. Walking from the
MOCR together, they waited until the elevator door closed to
choose the time and place. The Freeman Memorial Library
located a block beyond the north gate of the space center was
chosen. The facility had isolated study carrels. No sound could
302
penetrate its closed door. To diminish suspicions, they would
pretend to be a University of Houston couple on a study date.
The GUIDO wished it wasn’t pretense. He liked Jenny very
much.
Closing the carrel door, they chose chairs on opposite sides of the
small study table obscuring their presence from anyone casually
looking through the door’s viewing window.
Jenny had the mission flight plan with her. He opened his
briefcase to retrieve the reentry functional schematics.
“We have only twenty four hours to come up with a plan to save
the Eagle II crew,” was his opening remark.
“Where do we begin?”
Jenny responded to his remark with, “Remember my idea to pay
special attention to anything the Retro does which is out of the
ordinary?”
“Yes, it had merit.”
“Well, based on what we know about the ERV having on board
surveillance cameras and microphones, I doubt that it will help
us.
Likely, the means of destroying the ERV is already
manufactured into the vehicle. This is what destroyed the
original ERV and will probably bring Eagle II down.”
He agreed, but added, “Yes, it will likely be a switch thrown in
preparation for entry just as the ERV video revealed. In that
case, the innocent actuation of that DESCENT SEP ARM switch
nearly proved fatal for the crew.
So it could be a similar approach, i.e., something routine listed in
the reentry checklist that is wired to a pair of functions, one
nominal the other fatal. But which one?”
303
“I’ve got an idea,” Jenny pondered.
“We know that the Retro discovering Justin Lewis was not dead
was a decision point. Seeing how relaxed the Retro has become
leads me to believe that they know Eagle II will be destroyed
without any action on their part. If they believed Lewis was
dead, they would be attempting to override the destruction of the
vehicle.”
“Yes,” he agreed, “that’s certainly logical.”
After thinking for a moment, he continued.
“There are ways of setting switch functions without flipping a
switch. Commands can be sent from the MOCR to activate
identical functions. These don’t use the electrical path from a
designated switch to the controlled device. Likely, one of the
panel switches is dual wired. This was the way the original ERV
was destroyed. Therefore, we can avoid destruction with a
telemetry command.
The question is what command must be sent for Eagle II’s safe
reentry? Obviously, it won’t be sent by a Retro now that Lewis
is known to be alive. Their job is over. Our challenge has just
begun.”
Jenny asked the GUIDO, “If we find which command it is, can
you send it?”
“Yes.”
Eight hours later, they were together once more, not on a pretend
date, but in the MOCR. The Public Affairs Officer had entered
the control room with a U.S. State Department Official. The two
approached Jenny’s console.
304
“Astronaut White, this is Sherman Evans, aide de camp to the
Assistant Secretary for Space Affairs in the U.S. State
Department.”
“Pleased to meet you sir,” Jenny answered with her predictably
winsome smile.
“He would like to speak with you about a communication from
President Conders to the crew of Eagle II.”
Jenny removed her headset, rotated her console chair one
hundred eighty degrees and faced Mr. Evans.
“Mme. White, the President wishes to encourage the brave Eagle
II crew before they busy themselves with reentry procedures. We
have patched audio from his desk in the Oval Office to your
console. We would very much appreciate your assistance in
introducing the message to your comrades in Eagle II. I am told
that NASA protocol prescribes that only the Capcom can
coordinate such a message.”
“Yes,” Jenny agreed, “I will be happy to do so. Is President
Conders ready?”
“He is…”
Jenny launched the exchange, “Eagle II, this is Houston. We
have a message for you from the President of the United States of
America, William Conders. President Conders is in the Oval
Office and wishes to speak with you. Mr. President…”
Besides the crew of Eagle II, Jenny, and the GUIDO, there were
two other flight controllers who listened especially closely. This
would confirm that action was being taken on what they had
discovered about Justin Lewis’s mortality…
*
*
*
*
*
“Blast it!” Conders cursed. Lewis was alive! Because Akema
had no knowledge of what the pair of CI agents had found,
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Conders, alone, would have to make the decision, life or death.
Perhaps, he could vote for life. If so, obviously, the Eagle II
crew was fully aware of the plot. It must have been Lewis who
had uncovered Akema and Conders’s scheme. He wondered,
“Had Lewis seen Conders and Akema’s names as insurance
beneficiaries during the policy signing?”
On landing, the crew would immediately report Conders’ role in
stranding Eagle II on the Moon. Lewis was a crafty operator.
No wonder he possessed billions of dollars. Somehow, he had
discovered his death was the ticket for the rest of the crew’s safe
return. The President, as the decider, must terminate the lot of
them. Hadn’t he given them the benefit of doubt. He had hoped
that the Moon autopsy had been legitimate. He wanted Lewis
dead but not his crewmates.
In a moment, the death statement would be passed to the MOCR.
Within, he knew how previous heads of state must have felt in
failing to grant life-saving pardons. Yet, virtually always the
felon deserved execution. These five brave souls did not. “My
God they had been clever in coaxing him to support the rescue
mission!” But they would not succeed. Should he not order
their death, Akema’s response would be devastating to all
mankind. He would rather have the blood of five on his hands
than billions.
But what if some unplanned malfunction caused a fatal entry?
Certainly, this was a possibility considering the rushed
construction of the ERV rescue vehicle. If he called off the
destruction of Eagle II, he would not be the executioner. Some
nameless manufacturing technician could be the blame. Yet, the
chance of that was so minuscule that he did not entertain it long.
Lifting the phone to his lips, he said the chosen words, “Death
has been defeated by the Consortium’s heroic rescue effort…”
*
*
*
*
*
306
To a man and to a woman of those involved in the life-death
drama, there was absolutely no doubt that Conders’s message
was embodied in the first word of his statement, DEATH…
Jenny suppressed a gasp looking toward the GUIDO whose face
mirrored her dismay. Likewise, Mohammed and Sid, seated in
the pilot and commander’s couches, shook their heads from side
to side facing one another. Mary and Valerie immediately left
their couches, floated into the lower equipment bay and freed
Justin Lewis from his entrapment, the body bag.
“They know,” said Valerie,
“You are no longer a dead man. You’re alive. Let’s pray that you
stay that way.”
Taking Valerie’s advice, the four Eagle II crew members met
Justin Lewis in the lower equipment bay, joined hands and began
to pray the words of the ninety-first Psalm…
“He who dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide
under the shadow of the Almighty.”
Especially loud were their voices as they spoke the final verses
displayed on Lewis’s Digital Assistant,
“He shall call upon me, and I will answer him. I will be with him
in trouble; I will deliver him, and honor him. With long life will
I satisfy him, and show him my salvation.”
All joined in unison, saying with the resolve of those who believe
what God had promised,
“AMEN!”
307
The Crew Check List
Jenny and the GUIDO found the abrupt departure of the
Insurance Officer baffling. Over the internal voice network, he
had announced his final determination: Lewis was deceased
beyond doubt. For that reason, he announced his departure. He
was to perform administrative duties apart from NASA and the
MOCR. In order to tender final payments, his affidavit was
needed elsewhere.
What confused Jenny and the GUIDO was the abruptness of his
decision. It seemed to relate to the loss of interest by the Retro
Officers in the secret audio and video surveillance. Was the IO
in league with the Gold and Black team Retro Officers? Trying
to figure that out was counterproductive. Reentry was but 30
hours away. They must find the fatal flaw in the ERV. There
was no doubt it was destined to kill Justin Lewis and his
comrades. Somehow the sudden exit of the IO was related. Had
he been friend of foe?
The GUIDO pulled up the entry check list, the procedural
cookbook of steps needed to configure the reentry capsule
systems. In only two hours, the time line called for the crew to
begin throwing switches in the Entry Prep Sequence as the setup
procedure was known.
Knowing the original ERV had been
destroyed during the lunar descent setup process, it was likely
entry setup was just as deadly. But which among the hundred
steps and switches was the hidden killer?
“It has to be one of the functions which can be replicated by a
telemetry command,” thought the GUIDO. This eliminated all
but a dozen switch actuations to power up, arm, enable or power
down various systems for entry configuration.
Among suspects in this game of spacecraft CLUE was the ERV
SEP ARM switch, the ENTRY BATTS on switch, the CHUTE
DEPLOY ARM switch, and a half dozen circuit breakers
308
providing power to various systems unique to capsule reentry.
The ERV SEP ARM switch protected the crew from
inadvertently bumping a panel switch and activating a premature
separation of the entry capsule. ENTRY BATTS dealt with the
batteries. The batteries were a separate power system for the
capsule used only during reentry. Likely, they had not been
compromised. Their failure to power up the capsule’s electrical
systems could be quickly corrected. Using the circuit breakers to
directly power the entry DC buses corrected the problem. If that
didn’t fix things, the ERV entry capsule could be kept in Earth
orbit until an alternate entry vehicle was sent. Several existed
and were launch ready.
“This kind of thinking is not going to solve the problem,” the
GUIDO fretted.
“At best, it is going to come down to a game of Russian Roulette.
Only without a six-shooter. There will be a dozen bullets in the
spinning chamber, eleven will mean death to the crew, only one
gives life. What are we going to do?”
Jenny saw the GUIDO’s secret gesture. He wanted to talk once
more after their shift. The troubled look on his face telegraphed
the seriousness of the problem. It was altogether different from
the façade of the Retro Officer, who was actually napping. His
head was supported by his hands, his hands by his forearms, his
forearms by the horizontal console structure. This was the
typical posture assumed by flight controllers for a moment of
undetected sleep. Indeed, the Retro’s job was complete. Death
was on the way.
Jenny had an idea. The Retro Officers had ceased visiting the
data bank in Building 45. They no longer had an interest in the
secret audio and video telemetry. For that reason, Jenny asked the
GUIDO to meet her there. Of course, they need not use the
tunnel system as before. Such visits for data were now expected
of them. They were key players in the MOCR support of the
Eagle II mission.
309
Perhaps, the Retro Officers had left an inadvertent note, a clue on
discarded paper tossed into a waste basket in the data bank.
Immediately after the change of MOCR shifts, the Capcom and
GUIDO walked together from Building 30 and entered the side
door of Building 45. After showing badges, they were admitted
to the data request desk.
The NASA clerk gave the perfunctory greeting, “If you want to
review EAGLE II data, the data request sign out ledger is over
there on the table.”
Beneath the table was a waste basket for tossing extra copies of
the sign out sheets. If errors had been made in filling out the
form, the refuse would include them. Unfortunately, nothing had
been discarded. However, they examined the list of requesters.
Noting the time data was checked out and returned might yield
clues. There were several earlier entries by both Retro Officers.
The last request came six hours before the IO had departed. Prior
to that, the Retro Officer visits had come every four hours. On
the next to last visit, the Retro had requested a listing of the
commands sent to Eagle II. The print out of such data was quite
simple to review. An “x” along with the time of the “x” entry
indicated a command had been sent.
The GUIDO returned to the data desk with a request for the same
data book checked out by the Retro on the last visit. A review
showed few “x” marks. Generally, these up-linked commands
increased in number as entry approached. But both Jenny and the
GUIDO were pleased. This was proving fruitful.
The knowledge that the Retro Officers had checked out data
relating to up-linked commands was telling. Likely, they were
wanting to refresh their understanding of the command to be sent.
This would be expected if they had been instructed to call off the
execution of the crew. Since no such instruction had come, they
had lost interest. Among the commands listed was the needed
310
one. But which one, and when must it be sent to avoid disaster?
Was it already too late?
It was an unusual thought that came to Jenny. The GUIDO
couldn’t have come up with it. He wouldn’t have had the
background. It had to do with the evening they had spied on the
original ERV video probe. Jenny suddenly remembered hearing
the pair of Retro Officers talking in the data bank. Fearing being
seen, but wanting to hear what was being said, she had pressed
her audio-snooper’s microphone against the wall. The device
had the ability to record extremely weak vibratory signals. These
were caused by sound waves bouncing air molecules about the
wall structure of the data bank. Using frequency discrimination
algorithms, the recorded human voice signals could be separated
from humming air handlers,
transformers, and vent wind
whooshing.
Jenny had forgotten that recording. Worse, she had never run the
recording through the discrimination program. What had been
said that night?
Likely, something discussed by the Retro
Officers was related to the ERV command.
How much time did they have? This was going to take much of
it, going home, finding the recording, loading the discrimination
software, playing the audio through it and interpreting what was
said.
Their final shift in the MOCR was to coincide with the
performance of the entry check list, reentry and landing. It was
scheduled for 6:00 A.M. in the morning. This left the night for
the audio analysis.
There was no time for dinner. They must begin at once. While
Jenny rushed home to collect the digital audio memory stick, the
GUIDO drove to his apartment for his laptop. He and Jenny
planned to meet once more in the library. At 8:00 p.m., she
would bring the discrimination program as well as the audio file
from that horrible evening in the tunnels.
311
*
*
*
*
*
“One thing is for sure,” exclaimed Sid, “We had better be extra
careful about throwing switches.” All agreed that their demise
was likely planned by throwing what was thought to be a routine
switch. That had been the approach last time and likely would be
used again.
“Let’s delay setting up for reentry as long as possible,”
commented Valerie.
“If Uncle Ivan’s friend is at work for us, he likely knows what
we know. Akema and Conders want us dead. Their scheme is
once more moving forward. Any switch thrown in preparation
for return to Earth might be our executioner. If someone or ones
are working to save us, let’s give them as much time as possible.”
Mohammed added, “We need to think of doing routine switch set
ups in alternate ways.
Since they are expecting us to act
routinely, that would be how they’d use us to destroy Eagle II.”
Mary Evers added, “Based on that thinking, wasn’t it an arming
switch which set things off. Is there an arming switch in the
reentry setup?”
Mohammed answered, “Yes, there are several.”
*
*
*
*
*
The GUIDO patched the audio memory stick into the laptop USB
port. The discrimination program took no more than a few
microseconds to convert the audio to a crisp artificial voice
fashioned by the program’s speech synthesizer. Though it
sounded pleasantly gregarious, the content was nefarious and
evil.
312
Apparently, the Retro Officers had been told to examine the
probe video. Coincidently, their visit to the data bank coincided
with Jenny and the GUIDO’s. In some ways, this was fortuitous.
Had that not been the case, they would not have this audio record
of what the Retro Officers had said.
Those who plotted the Eagle II’s death had instructed the evil
twosome. This was, apparently, their means of finding the flaw
built into the rescue ERV. Jenny and the GUIDO listened
carefully:
The Gold Retro was the one who disclosed the secret. “If
Conders should say, ‘Death has been defeated by the
Consortium’s heroic rescue effort…,’ we do nothing.
Otherwise, we send the CHUTE DEPLOY ARM telemetry
command. Likewise, we must instruct the crew via the Capcom
to be certain not to activate the CHUTE DEPLOY ARM switch.
We will have already done that by having sent the up-linked
command from the MOCR. It’s ironic in a sense. The CHUTE
DEPLOY ARM switch is there to save not end lives.”
The blank look on Jenny’s face communicated her thoughts
exactly. She had no idea how the GUIDO was going to
implement the command. But the GUIDO was not at a loss for
ideas.
“I’ve got the entry setup flight plan procedures on my laptop.
Here they are. They begin at 7:00 A.M. tomorrow morning. This
is long after we are seated at our consoles.
Look here, Jenny. The actuation of the CHUTE DEPLOY ARM
switch comes about an hour into the procedure. The whole setup
last two hours. It includes time for guidance platform star
alignment, verification of the world-wide tracking network and
other procedures.”
313
Then, the GUIDO paused, “There is one huge difficulty. Even if
I send the up-linked command to actuate the CHUTE DEPLOY
ARM function, they will do it anyway because it is a routine
step.”
“What’s the problem with that?” Jenny asked.
“Well, I could simply tell the crew, i.e., you tell them Jenny,
after I tell you.
‘Don’t arm the chutes for deployment. I’ve done it with an uplinked command.’
The problem is that the Retro Officer would know what I have
done. He will be certain I am onto their scheme to kill the crew.
Likely, he will immediately inform the conspirators, and they
will certainly retaliate. Perhaps, not against the Eagle II crew,
but certainly against me.”
Then Jenny came up with the solution.
“I am assigned a secure confidential audio channel to talk
privately with Eagle II’s crew. I will pass along the information
for you on it. Just send the command, and I’ll do the rest. The
Retro will not be aware of what I have said.
However, I think you should distract the Retro with a fake
problem while you are arming the chute with the up-link. This
way, he won’t notice what you have done. You come up with the
problem. I’ll voice the switch instructions to Eagle II. ”
“Brilliant!” exclaimed the GUIDO.
*
*
*
*
*
“It’s got to be the CHUTE DEPLOY ARM switch,” sighed
Mohammed. Unfortunately, it’s a catch 22. If we actuate it, it
314
kills us. If we don’t actuate it, we die anyway. No chutes, no
soft landing. We take the deep dive at terminal velocity…sort of
like the end for the Challenger crew in 1986.”
Sid offered, “Can’t it be set by TM up-link?”
“Yes, but we can’t send TM from Eagle II. Only the MOCR
can.”
Valerie had a plan, “Here’s what we do. At the moment we
reach that step in the flight plan, we call the Capcom with a
request. We say that Mohammed has bumped into the CLUTE
DEPLOY ARM switch and severed the bat-handle actuator.
There is no way we can make the switch work. Instruct the
MOCR to send the alternate back-up command.”
“You Russian cosmonauts amaze me,” beamed Sid.
“Well, we had to be resourceful from the beginning. No telling
what political faction was in charge when we returned after
months in the Mir space station. If our allegiance was wrong, our
chutes might malfunction unexpectedly. This kind of thing, i.e.,
sabotage, was always a concern.”
*
*
*
*
*
The jungle sounds had become his sleeping pill long ago.
Crickets, birds, and other chirping, whopping creatures blended
into an orchestra, each carrying the theme melody for its portion
of the night.
It was the sound of a jaguar savaging a wild animal which woke
him. Though he had set his alarm for 3:00 A.M., the nocturnal
noise had brought him to consciousness a full hour before his
final planned sabotage of the Amazonia shaft.
Actually, he wouldn’t be the agent of the act. It would be the
quite predictable jungle rains. Generally, they fell between 3:00
315
a.m. and 5:00 a.m. depending on the breeze generated by the
Andes chain hundreds of miles west.
Though not given to practical matters of construction, he had
done some study of concrete, i.e., he’d read the instructions on
the back of one of the bags left in the storage depot. The stuff
required several hours to solidify. Based on his assessment,
opening the shaft cover before 3:00 a.m. would allow the several
hours if the rains should fall by 5:00 a.m. at the latest.
He’d then close the lid at 5:00 a.m. and let the cement do its
thing, thwarting Akema’s scheme to launch the Masada response
should the Eagle II splashdown occur at noon as planned. So
sure was the Commandant that there would be a sinister result
from Eagle II’s landing, that he had made no plans for a cover-up
explanation. He would not need to explain why he had poured
cement into the shaft.
In a sense, he was no better than an assassin who had purchased
his fire arm months before the evil deed, knowing it forth
coming, just not when. As such, the Commandant saw himself as
a dead man though he yet drew breath into his lungs, heard the
sounds of the jungle, and watched the daily rising of the Sun over
the Amazonia camp.
Approaching shaft one, he saw the sentry in the usual posture,
asleep. The man, like the Commandant, would soon cease
breathing, a victim of the lethal brain chip. Nevertheless, rather
than give the man an early departure into oblivion, the
commandant had brought a sleeping portion. The bottle of
drugged wine would spare the man the horror of events to follow.
“Good evening, my friend,” was the Commandant’s waking
message. “The night is so humid, I could not sleep. Chat with
me over this libation for a few minutes. Soon you will feel better
about our grim fortunes.”
316
The Commandant extended the brew to his subordinate. Soon,
only he would be awake. And so it was. He then cranked open
the lid and awaited the jungle rain to do its work.
317
The Akema Response
“Aha, I thought as much about that Justin Lewis. He was too
agreeable about signing our policy.
He called himself a
Christian, but I always believed his aims were selfish, wanting to
use his funds to glorify himself, not his Christ.
One must be vigilant in dealing with their kind. They claim to
have special guidance from above. Yet, no such help will save
him now. He has not succeeded in fooling us. Conders, you have
made sure that the five of them will perish…have you not?”
Though Conders responded in the affirmative, Akema did not
like his answer,
“I think so.”
“What do you mean by think so. I want to hear you say, ‘I know
so.’ Conders, if you fail, I tell you now, that in the next twelve
hours, I will launch the Masada Response. If I cannot glory in the
fruition of my plan, neither will you, nor Lewis, nor his crew, nor
the Consortium, nor any of my wretched subjects, the denizens
of NANA, survive.
I will have the distinction of being greater than Lewis’s God. In
destroying all mankind, it will be proven that there is none like
Salik Akema. He is all powerful!”
Conders held the phone a half foot from his ear. The loudness of
Akema’s rhetoric had become a demented scream. Based on the
vitriolic venom of Akema’s shouted words, President Conders
had no doubt that should the plan to destroy Eagle II fail, the
world would have “hell to pay.” Indeed, that one Lewis called
Satan would bring a virtual hell on Earth.
“Oh, God,” Conders murmured in as much a prayer as a cursing
oath. “What have I done?”
318
*
*
*
*
*
At once, Akema pulsed his network of Masada sites. They must
be prepared. Assurance of their readiness was of the utmost
importance. Though the hour was late, he would not slumber
until word came that Justin Lewis and the Eagle II crew had died
during reentry. In less than a dozen hours, the fullness of that
time would be imminent.
He thought about the commandant of Amazonia One. It was his
off hand remark so long ago about those Jewish Zealots. That
had been the genesis which had empowered Akema for such a
time as this. Without those hundreds of Atomic pills, there
would be no Masada Response. Was it a coincidence that they
had numbered 900 plus souls, women, children and the last to
commit suicide, those male Jews at Masada?
The site of Akema’s Masada suicide had as its neighboring
country none other than that which held the historic horror of
Jonestown. In Guyana’s steamy jungle, a like 900 plus souls of
women, children and males had died by suicide. Their mentor
had been the nefarious Jim Jones, an infamous Akema-like
prototype.
Though he tried repeatedly to contact his commandant of
Amazonia, there was no response. Akema felt about his body.
“There it was, the brain chip actuator.” He would use it, if he
must, but not before Amazonia One launched that first A-bomb
capsule into the heavens over Amazonia.
*
*
*
*
*
Uncle Ivan’s friend had no choice but to depart from the MOCR
and the Houston Space Center. He had confidence in Jenny and
the GUIDO’s ability to save Valerie and her crewmates.
However, his challenge was a billion times greater, to save the
planet from Akema’s Masada Response. Saving Valerie was a
hollow victory should radioactive clouds bring death to
319
civilization. Uncle Ivan would understand.
anyway forsaken Valerie.
He had not in
Having the job of an insurance adjustor was his cover for dealing
with “espionage associates.” The guise had enabled his spying
comrades to infiltrate the court of Akema and the cabinet of
Conders. Both operatives had kept him abreast of the rescue
status. However, their reports had nothing to do with what the
media reported. These were secret updates of Akema and
Conger’s interaction. In recent weeks, the intelligence was given
him on a daily basis. Now, with Eagle II’s return imminent,
updates were coming hourly.
His coat’s inside breast pocket vibrated against his chest with
another encrypted call, this one from the Akema agent. Flipping
the cell cover open, he read the e-mail message, “MR imminent.
CF staging.”
Troubled by the information, he replied, “EII (Eagle II) in good
hands. Rescue likely.” That was his response to the warning that
the MR, the Masada Response, was imminent, and that a CF,
coupe force, was staging. If the MR was not aborted, then the
CF was of little help. He wondered if the agent had access to
Akema. Perhaps, the only option was assassination?
He thought about the last days of World War II when Hitler had
hidden in his Berlin bunker. Had the evil Fuhrer had the option
of a Masada Response, likely it would have been launched.
Akema was every bit as proud of NANA as Hitler took pride in
his Third Reich.
In mid thought, he felt another vibration in his coat pocket. A
message from the White House contact was displayed. “Conders
has ordered EII death. CI operatives will not intervene. Please
advise.”
320
If Akema was a likeness of Hitler, Conders was Neville
Chamberlain’s alter ego, the appeaser.
Yes, Ivan’s friend had expected Conders’s pronouncement of
death. But the latter part of the message was the challenge: how
to apprehend the coward once the insurance scheme was
revealed.
He had a curious thought: In his mind, he saw the image of the
deposed President Richard Nixon departing Washington, D.C.,
boarding a helicopter, Nixon’s hands raised in the “V” sign of
victory. Nixon’s sin had found him out. What led to his
departure was the certainty of impeachment.
There was no doubt that Conders’s would act similarly. Wishing
to salvage his legacy, hoping to avoid incarceration, the likely
scenario would be immediate resignation and departure. To
assure such, the leader of Conders’s political opposition would be
given the dossier concerning the insurance adjustor’s
investigative file on Conders’s scam. What law enforcement
lacked, political venom was sure to provide through indictments,
hearings, impeachment, and, perhaps, federal imprisonment.
Of course, both Akema and Conders’s futures hung in the
balance as did Eagle II’s crew, the world’s billions, and even
Uncle Ivan’s friend. All were in this together. No one would
escape the aftermath, good or bad, life or death.
321
Eagle II’s Reentry Flight Plan
The GUIDO flipped open the flight plan to the reentry section.
This was the cook book procedure for safely returning from the
Moon. The culmination was splashdown somewhere in the mid
Pacific Ocean. This flight plan was akin to a driver’s manual
provided by auto dealers. Each step in the manual was performed
in a prescribed timed sequence. To that end, four columns of
instructions flowed as a list from page top to page bottom.
The listed left hand column designated who was to perform
specific actions required to operate the ERV. The column had
three letter acronyms denoting the crew member. Mohammed
was the CMP, i.e., Command Module Pilot. Sid was the CDR,
the acronym for the overall mission commander. Together they
would pilot Eagle II back to Earth.
The second column adjacent to the crew member designation was
the timeline. The acronym heading the timeline column was
MET or mission elapsed time. The mission elapsed time had
long been NASA’s clock. No use of the twelve hour a.m. and
p.m. nomenclature had ever been part of NASA’s timing. Days
of the week such as Mondays, Tuesdays, etc., as well as periods
of day like morning, noon, and evening had no place on NASA
wrist watches. It was all about MET.
The timeline for entry setup initiated at a mission elapsed time of
100 hours after the TEI burn. The TEI or Trans Earth Injection
firing of the ERV’s main engine thrust the ship homeward bound.
It was the third column which had the greatest significance.
There were listed the specific actions to be taken, a switch
thrown, a star sighting alignment performed, an operational code
punched into the guidance computer’s keyboard, an engine firing,
or a jettison of a spent vehicle such as the lunar lander. The
variety and complexity of the flight plan was awesome. It was
the stuff of astronaut training.
322
There was yet a fourth column. It was sort of a comments and
notes of advice kind of thing. There, expected glitches could be
listed. For example, turning on a device might trigger a transient
electrical pulse on the power bus activating a MASTER
ALARM. The notes column was there to explain that the
MASTER ALARM should be ignored. It was simply an
expected nuisance. The crew was not to worry about the ringing.
All was well. They should simply reset the ALARM. The
master alarm was a combination light and reset switch.
Depressing the switch turned off the light and reset the digital
circuit in the Caution and Warning Detection Unit.
Added to the procedural challenges were the functions of
hundreds of switches and gauges, each with its idiosyncrasies.
For this reason, adding a flaw to the wiring of the CHUTE
DEPLOY ARM switch was a subtle means of sabotage.
With that in mind, the GUIDO scanned the time line activation of
the DEPLOY switch. There it was at MET 101:23:23. The CMP
would do it. The fourth column had an instructive note. “The
CHUTE DEPLOY ARM switch enables manual deployment of
the entry chutes should the automatic system fail.”
What the GUIDO knew it should say was: “DO NOT
ACTUATE THIS SWITCH.
IT WILL RESULT IN
IMMEDIATE DEPLOYMENT OF THE ENTRY CHUTES, A
FATAL CONSEQUENCE.”
Unfortunately, he would have to serve as the notes column, the
CMP, as well as the switch. He must secretly send the uplinked telemetry command. It alone would enable the automatic
deployment of the entry chutes.
He remembered the Apollo 13 movie he and Jenny had watched
weeks ago in the historic Mission Operations Control Room.
There was a closing scene just prior to entry. It had the CMP Jack
Swigert concerned about throwing the wrong switch.
The
switch in question was for LM jettison. Beside it on the control
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panel was the SM (service module) jettison switch. The service
module was to be discarded prior to the lander. The lander’s
batteries were needed as long as possible to conserve the limited
power available in the entry capsule’s small batteries. Swigert
sensed that the fatigue of the rescue might cause him to
inadvertently activate the LM jettison rather than its SM
counterpart.
Swigert’s crewmates, Lovell and Haise, resided in the LM.
Throwing the wrong switch would kill them. For that reason,
Swigert taped over the LM switch to assure that didn’t happen.
Sadly,
the
GUIDO couldn’t tape over the ERV CHUTE DEPLOY ARM
switch. He would have to use Jenny’s plan, a secret secure
communication to the crew not to actuate that switch.
On his console, he monitored the crew’s progress toward the
moment he must send the saving up-link command. Each step
had a corresponding effect on the measurements displayed on his
screen. It was much like starting a car and watching the oil gage
needle move from the far left to mid scale.
At 101:10:30, he observed the entry of the P52 platform
alignment numbers,
updating the computer’s navigational
alignment pointing vectors. The update came a full five minutes
before the schedule time on the flight plan.
He had better get Jenny’s attention. Being five minutes early
meant less than ten minutes remained until the MET of
101:23:23. The command needed to be sent immediately!
How could he alert Jenny? Then, he remembered. Both of them
had those walkie-talkie vibrators for communication. He recalled
that day of their first use in the coffee shop. His was in his shirt
pocket, hers in the pocket of her slacks. At once, he pressed the
send button. Within five seconds, Jenny looked up, knowing the
time for the secret conference call and up-linked command was
imminent.
324
*
*
*
*
*
“Great job on the P52 platform alignment,” acknowledged
Mohammed. “I’ve entered the new coordinates in the DSKY.
We’ve set the entry angle based on the final star sighting. Let’s
move on with the entry flight list.”
Sid replied, “Let’s slow up a bit. The time for the actuation of
the CHUTE DEPLOY ARM switch is less than ten minutes away
based on the pace we’ve achieved. Now, let’s go over again what
we plan to do. When we finish the step prior to the CHUTE
ARMING, we’ll pause for awhile. Then we call the MOCR and
explain that the bat handle on the switch was inadvertently
severed. Are we all in agreement?”
Sid looked around the cabin. All were nodding their heads in the
affirmative.
*
*
*
*
*
Yes, he had Jenny’s attention, but, unfortunately, he had not
crafted a way of distracting the Gold Retro Officer. What could
he do? Then the answer came.
It was wholly unexpected
because it wasn’t an answer, at all. It was an instruction.
Years ago, Justin Lewis had spoken to his co-op class about the
rescue of Apollo 13. Lewis had been adamant in his belief that
what had made the rescue a success was, in the final analysis,
PRAYER.
The GUIDO suddenly understood. I am facing the same kind of
moment in the same kind of rescue Gene Kranz and his team
faced. If God could answer then, He is able to answer my
request now. I’m asking you Lord for help. What should I do?
Then, he recalled his Sunday school teacher’s suggestion, “When
you pray, it helps to pray in Jesus’ name.” As an innocent nine
year old, he had asked, “Why is that?” The teacher replied,
325
“Because Jesus said, ‘Ask anything in my name, and I will do it.’
It’s as simple as that.”
O.K. Jesus, so I’m asking in your name, AMEN!
He looked at Jenny. She was waiting for him to execute the
command before making her call to Eagle II.
The GUIDO
entered the up-link code into his console communicator and
paused before pressing the send button.
For some reason, Eagle II’s crew had slowed their pace through
the entry check list. Nevertheless, the CHUTE DEPLOY ARM
activation was but two minutes away.
If I delay another second, it might be me who kills the crew by
my indecision. I must act, now.
His eyes glanced toward the Retro’s console as he brought his
index finger down on the send button. At exactly that moment,
the Retro bolted up out of his console seat and exited for the
men’s room. Simultaneously, Jenny made her call to Eagle II.
*
*
*
*
*
It was Sid who saw it first: the indication that the CHUTE
DEPLOY ARM up-link command had enabled the automatic
system.
“My God,” he explained, “our prayers are answered. Somehow
someone in the MOCR has overridden the use of the switch. We
have an ally.”
His head set sounded the audio call tone signifying a confidential
communication from the MOCR. He realized what it meant and
only said, “Thanks, we know what you did. We won’t be using
the switch.”
Jenny had said nothing. She didn’t need to based on Sid’s
comment. In fact, she wrote in her Capcom log that the call had
326
been an inadvertent mistake, to ignore it as such.
Fifteen minutes later the stricken Gold Retro returned to his post,
ashen faced. The GUIDO wondered, “Was that you Lord, or the
JSC cafeteria?”
However, the Retro’s countenance darkened seeing the CHUTE
DEPLOY ARM function had been enabled, and, yet, the chutes
had not deployed. Apparently, the built in flaw had failed. The
Eagle II crew was safe. He had better inform his CI contacts that
their plan had failed. Lewis was alive along with his four
crewmates and would remain that way. Soon they would be on
the carrier deck unless CI had an alternative plan in work.
He left his display console a second time. He must immediately
pass the word. Perhaps, other action could be taken. He didn’t
relish driving from the space center that evening. Accidents were
known to happen on NASA PARKWAY!
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Reentry
What had been a temporary reprieve for Lewis and crew, might
have become a death sentence for all mankind. Neil Armstrong
might have said: “A small rescue for five but a devastating end
for all mankind.” Though Conders had failed to destroy Eagle II,
the secret nature of the drama aboard the ERV and in the MOCR
remained unknown to all but the participants. The Gold and
Black team Retro Officers had failed. This meant Akema and
Conders’ scam to claim the billion dollar insurance prize would
likely collapse.
The World awaited the splashdown of Eagle II in a few hours
while the media was reporting minute by minute the rescue’s
success. Four live people were aboard. These were friends
accompanying their fallen comrade Justin Lewis home to Earth.
The Insurance Officer likened the world scene to a western movie
he’d enjoyed on Moscow television, a rerun of the 1950s classic
western HIGH NOON. Gary Cooper, as the town sheriff, six
guns holstered, faced a murderous gang of bandits. One man
held the future of that town on his shoulders. Likewise, he,
Uncle Ivan’s friend, faced Akema and Conders with their legions
of agents and operatives. And all he had was an archaic
membrane gun, a device needing a water bath to become a
weapon. Nevertheless, he would use it. There was no other
option at his disposal at the moment.
The fasten seat belt sign was no longer lit, meaning he could
amble up the aisle into the aircraft’s restroom to assemble his
gun. Latching the door, he unsheathed the gelatinous mass from
his thigh wrap and deposited it into the wash basin. Soon the
water had given shape to the weapon. Sixty seconds later the
mass had solidified into the shape of a pistol. Carefully, he bent
a paper clip into the shape needed for the trigger and firing pin.
Holding the revolver body in one hand and the paper clip in the
other, he carefully inserted the clip into the weapon’s trigger
hole.
328
Next, he pulled a wooden toothpick from a seam sown into his
wallet. With it, he extracted a dozen rounds of ammunition from
his rear molars. These he loaded into the gun’s slotted pistol
grip.
Admiring his handiwork, he thought, “Indeed, this is a marvelous
spin-off of Cold War technology. NASA brags about graphite
golf clubs helping one’s golf game. Those of us in the espionage
industry appreciate this weapon much more. It’s our spy-ware.”
No airport security x-ray could detect the membrane gun. Even
body-frisking failed to find it.
In its stowed shape, it
felt like a normal thigh muscle. Nevertheless, he was now
“armed and dangerous” on a supersonic jet for an appointment
with destiny. He had twelve bullets to save a town of nine billion
souls.
*
*
*
*
*
No longer was there a need for secret communications between
any of the perpetrators. Conders, Akema, the CI Retro Officers,
and their infamous kind heard the media accounts as did their
opponents: the IO Officer and his former KGB colleagues, and,
of course, Jenny, the GUIDO along with Justin Lewis, Valerie,
Sid Larue, Mary Evers, and Mohammed, and finally, an
unexpected ally, the Commandant of Amazonia. All were fully
aware that the rescue would likely succeed.
Each had unique thoughts about what the rescue meant. Conders
was contemplating suicide. His weapon of choice would be the
silver stiletto letter opener given him by the Royal Family of
Saudi Arabia.
When the FBI agents came for him, he would be found at his
desk prostrate on his farewell letter. The stiletto’s accompanying
silver pen was drafting his words as he conceived his goodbyes.
Only the set’s silver pencil would remain unused. The CI Retro
Officers, also, had dire thoughts about their peril. Both had fled
329
the space center as well as the MOCR. This left only the GUIDO
to oversee reentry. No explanation had been given by the fleeing
CI agents. However, before their rent car exited NASA Parkway
onto the Gulf Freeway in route to Hobby Airport, a mysterious
explosion blasted through the underbody of the vehicle. HPD
investigators likened it to an IED, i.e., an Improvised Explosive
Device. It’s electronic detonator was found, in tact, in the trunk.
Apparently, some kind of radio signal had been transmitted from
afar setting off the car bomb. A posthumous frequency scan
found the signal was peculiar to frequencies employed by KGB
radio engineers of the Cold War era. The detonation scheme was
not related to Consortium Intelligence technology.
But it was Akema who was impossible to predict. Most in the
media believed he and Conders would rejoice in the rescue.
After all, it spoke of a normalization of international relations
between NANA and the Consortium. The insurance scam was
unknown. And while Conders sought a coward’s end to his
villainy, Akema plotted a final attempt at killing Lewis.
The terms of the policy payoff required Justin Lewis to present
himself alive to the underwriters. This would release them from
liability. Should that be impossible by virtue of his untimely
death during the Eagle II mission, there would be the billion
dollar payoff. This meant Akema had a final opportunity once
the ERV crew reached the carrier. Should there be some kind of
accident or even an assassination, Akema and Conders would still
profit. Yes, there was still time on board the U.S.S. Gus Grissom
for the perpetrators to act.
To that end, Akema had seen fit to infiltrate the crew on board
the Pacific Ocean recovery ship. Only Akema knew the identity
of that agent. This was the last attempt to recover the bounty due
NANA’s potentate, a desperate ploy in the face of failure. One
aboard the Grissom would do the evil deed. Should that one fail,
the Masada Response would be launched.
*
*
*
*
*
330
Only Sid and Mohammed watched the fiery plasma discharge
trailing the Eagle II entry capsule. As commander and pilot, their
respective couches were positioned directly beneath the capsule
viewing windows on either side of the control panels. The entry
descent vector pointed the vehicle at the prescribed angle with the
horizon, keeping the craft in the entry corridor which assured a
safe landing.
Fortunately for Lewis, he was strapped into his couch instead of
being duffle bagged in the lower equipment bay. Those few who
wanted him dead knew him to be alive. There was no point in
hiding from the prying eyes and ears of the onboard surveillance
system.
Nevertheless, the crew felt uncomfortable with what was to come
during splashdown and transport onto the carrier deck of the
U.S.S. Gus Grissom. Only after the physical exam in the
carrier’s dispensary would they feel a measure of peace. For that
reason, they would act out the scheme planned earlier during
Mohammed’s improvised communication checks.
The radio silence had given them time to plan secretly. Their
scheme was to leave Justin Lewis in the body bag in the lower
equipment bay. The explanation would be that earlier removal
would be a disgrace. It would be an affront to Lewis’s Christian
faith to do otherwise.
They, Justin’s comrades, desired to act as his pallbearers,
respectfully removing him from Eagle II. As is the fashion of
pallbearers, they would transport his remains across the deck,
into the elevator leading to the carrier’s infirmary. There the
required medical exams and autopsy would be performed.
At that time, the body would be embalmed. From there, Lewis’
remains would be airlifted to the Houston Space Center for a
memorial service. Of course, the service would include a missing
man formation over flight, four planes at the onset, with the
331
departing jet representing the life of Justin Lewis. Final
interment would be in the cemetery across the Gulf Freeway near
NASA. There, many space center loved ones were buried.
However, out of consideration for Lewis’s Christian faith, the
deck processional would require that all bow their heads in
prayers of praise. This alone would show appreciation for Justin’s
contribution to all mankind.
The carefully orchestrated exit from Eagle II began at
splashdown. The crew assisted Justin into his body bag and
deposited him in the lower equipment bay. Mohammed offered
Justin an option, “Would you like me to give you another shot of
that flatliner potion?”
Justin laughed at the suggestion, “Not this time, I think that it will
take you all a lot more than five minutes to lift me out of Eagle
II, carry me across the deck into the elevator down into the
medic’s bay. With the shot, no one would have to fake my
demise. I’d be long since on my way to be with Jesus Christ, our
Lord!”
“Amen, to that,” chuckled Mohammed along with Sid, Mary, and
Valerie.
“God bless you all,” said Justin as he zipped closed his fabric
sack from within, awaiting the helicopter’s arrival.
*
*
*
*
*
Their departure, one by one, being basket lifted to the hovering
helicopter, left Justin Lewis as Eagle II’s lone occupant. The
darkness in the body bag was unpleasant. The thought of being
towed heavenward, then dropped on the U.S.S. Gus Grissom’s
deck was not pleasant.
332
Such were Lewis’s thoughts: “I have come this far by faith. God
has richly answered my prayers for my crewmates. All are now
believers in you, dear Jesus.
You have miraculously rescued us from certain death on the
Moon. These are events of biblical stature. Yet, if a scoffer
considered them coldly, he would deem them circumstance, a
fortuitous chain of positive outcomes, devoid of guidance by the
sure hand of God ordering them.
But that has always been the nature of faith, the substance of
things hoped for, the evidence of things unseen.
I know that my crewmates are safe for now, but I don’t know that
this will be the case should Akema launch the Masada Response.
All of us will perish: my crewmates, I, and the entire planet.
Once more I ask you, “What is to be my course? There may yet
be an opportunity for me to sacrifice my life for others. If I am
found deceased in the bowels of Eagle II, Akema will be
satisfied. The Masada Response will be aborted.
On the other hand, if I am found alive in the infirmary all are in
jeopardy. What I’m facing is what you faced Lord Jesus, dying
for all of us, all mankind, for those who accept your sacrifice as
their personal Lord and Savior.”
Then the thought came which gave him comfort. It, actually, was
his assessment of what Akema might be planning for him.
“Lord, somehow, I know that there is an agent sent by Akema to
assure I will not be alive to present myself before the
representative of the insurers.
Likely, he will succeed. His success will reward Akema, but,
more importantly, it will spare the World, the Masada Response.
333
My prayer is: if that be your will, thy will be done on Earth as it
is in heaven.”
I need not take my life. Like Jesus, I lay it before you to take in
behalf of all mankind.
My life is in your hands.”
334
The Last Rites
Lewis felt the frogmen attach the copter’s lift hook into Eagle
II’s hull. The swaying motion of the capsule as he floated within
the Eagle II’s wings, was calming. All too soon, he sensed the
descent toward the Gus Grissom’s deck.
He heard the sounds of a band, not of rejoicing, but of a
respectful reverent selection, honoring his passing. They were
playing that Navy hymn, entitled Eternal Father.
“How appropriate,” he thought, “for the cross deck processional
carried by his pallbearers, the crew of Eagle II!”
He felt the hands of Sid and Mohammed grasping the corners of
his body bag, removing him from the capsule. No light
penetrated the thick canvas fabric of his shroud.
Sid and Mohammed were joined by Mary and Valerie. Each of
the four now held a corner of his burial shroud. Perhaps, that is
how Christ had been moved from the cross to the tomb,
enshrouded in some kind of similar garment. Because Sid was
near Justin’s enshrouded head, he heard Larue’s prayer:
“Dear Lord thank you for my friend Justin Lewis. He is
responsible for my salvation. His witness led me to believe in
you.”
As Sid continued, Justin recognized that his petition had become
a message unbeknownst to all those on deck whose heads were
reverently bowed in prayer.
“And Lord, I thank thee for these gathered about us who to a man
and to a women look only at the deck. They do not recognize that
this man Justin is alive, forevermore.”
Obviously, Sid’s inflection on saying the words look only at the
deck and They do not recognize that this man Justin is alive were
335
meant as a message that the plan was working. By Sid’s
assessment, no one knew Justin Lewis was really alive except his
four pallbearers, and, perhaps, another sent by Akema.
Entering the elevator, Lewis wondered, “Is there another
accompanying us who is Akema’s infiltrator?” From what Lewis
remembered about the insurance contract signing, he, Lewis, was
required to appear alive before the underwriter’s agent. At that
time, he was to sign a release preventing Akema from receiving
the billion dollar award.
An Akema sent assassin could end Lewis’s life at any time prior
to the signing. Conders and Akema would deny complicity in
Lewis’s death.
This meant the next minutes were an
executioner’s countdown. There was no question about it.
Someone would soon try to kill him.
It made no difference if he were in or out of the body bag.
However, he decided to remain in place on his chest. A bullet or
knife wound might not be as lethal if his heart were protected by
his back. Exiting the elevator, he heard a gurney being rolled in
place. Gently, his crewmates moved his body onto its padded top.
The attendant spoke, “I will be taking you to the medical bay’s
examination room.
There, a NASA doctor will not only
interview each of you but perform a rudimentary physical exam.
Of course, while you are so engaged, the departed Justin Lewis
will be undergoing a post mortem. Your physician will be the
NASA flight control medic, Richard Keilman, M.D.”
The swinging exam room’s saloon doors gave way to the rolling
gurney. The crew of five found themselves surrounded by a half
dozen brown padded examination tables. The attendant left the
five alone. They waited for the examination physician to arrive.
Valerie spoke, “Justin, I think it is time for you to resurrect
before the coroner, oops, I mean doctor arrives.”
“Very
humorous,” Justin joked as he unzipped his body bag and stood
336
beside his crewmates.
added Sid.
“Won’t the good doctor be shocked?”
A side door led into the exam room from the physician’s office.
Slowly, it swung opened. It was Doctor Keilman. Only he was
not shocked in the least. The gun he held pointed at Justin Lewis.
“Lewis, you almost succeeded, but it will be Akema and Conders
who have been victorious over the lot of you.”
Justin would be first to die assuring the billion dollar payment,
followed by Sid, Mohammed, Mary, and Valerie. “See if your
god can help you now Lewis…”
The blast was deafening.
But it was not from Keilman’s gun.
It came from Keilman’s office.
Keilman’s head jerked backward.
His hand and arm recoiled upward as a projectile tore through the
back of his neck.
It excised his Adam’s apple and embedded itself deeply in the
exam room wall.
His slumped body bled profusely, blocking the office door.
Ignoring Keilman’s dead body, someone entered the exam room
from Keilman’s office, pushing open the door.
Keilman’s body slid out of the way as the mysterious shooter
entered.
He wore an identification badge.
337
It said Insurance Adjustor.
The weapon the assassin held was a strange one. It looked like a
pistol, but its stock had a gelatinous appearance akin to a human
body muscle.
Valerie recognized him immediately.
It was Uncle Ivan’s friend!
338
The Masada Response
The semi-confidential broadcast first appeared on the NASA
Select Channel. Of course, it was wholly couched in the dry
unimaginative language of “governmentise”, as NASA-speak
was known.
“NASA authorities aboard the U.S.S. Gus Grissom report a
significant unexpected event related to the successful rescue of
Eagle II’s crew. While it previously had been reported that the
entrepreneur Justin Lewis had died on the Moon, that is not the
case. Lewis is alive. However, he and his crewmates
experienced an unsavory incident in the medical bay of the
carrier.
Explanations from Eagle II’s crew will be
forthcoming.”
That was the version Conders read. He could only imagine what
the unsavory incident involved. Likely, it concerned Akema.
But that was no longer Conders’ worry.
Gripping the stiletto
snuggly in both hands, he stood at his desk in the Oval Office.
He’d seen World War II movies which had actual footage of
what the Japanese called hari-kari, the act of suicide. It was said
to be a particularly painful method of self-destruction. The word
meant "stomach cutting".
Yes, he’d fall on his letter opener but not his stomach. Rather he
positioned his six inch “saber” in the center of the suicide note. It
would bullseye his chest, piecing the heart. Not only would he
be spared stories reported by the Washington Post, but he would
avoid the encounter with the FBI agents who broke down his
locked door.
Hoping that blood wouldn’t obliterate his final words, he thrust
himself forward.
The irony was that Lewis’ life led to Conders’ death.
339
Yet, the question remained: Would Conders be the first death
among millions as a result of Lewis’ survival?
The answer would come from Akema.
NANA’s potentate had also received the early NASA report
from the U.S.S. Gus Grissom.
*
*
*
*
*
Akema was enraged. Conders had promised there would be no
safe landing for Eagle II’s crew. Even more maddening was the
failure of NANA’s assassin Dr. Keilman. Akema’s planted killer
had succumbed to, of all things, one of those pistol wielding
insurance adjustors.
The wrath of Akema would be upon all mankind. Not only
would the Consortium be savaged but so too would be NANA.
The Masada Response would be launched!
Conders, Keilman, those flight controllers, and Retro Officers
had been the early warning of the devastating clouds which were
to come. Akema was the weatherman.
*
*
*
*
*
Before Keilman’s body had been moved by the forensic
investigators, the Insurance Adjustor was on his cell phone
talking. The crew overhead comments that didn’t sound like
policy premium conversation.
“Can you reach him quickly? There is little time. Likely, Akema
already knows that Justin is alive. Do you have a means of
termination?”
At a loss to understand the exchange, the five believers joined
hands and began to pray.
340
*
*
*
*
*
The agent had never had so pressing a call to terminate an
opposing operative as had come from his colleague aboard the
U.S.S. Gus Grissom. With the help of his palace revolutionaries,
he had initiated their planned coup, setting it in motion. They
had actually hidden a bazooka within a buffet in the dining area
adjacent to Akema’s command suite.
After pulling the weapon from stowage,
projectile into the locked oaken door of
through the splintered structure, they found
The charge had exploded beneath his desk.
rested on the Masada Response initiator.
they fired a single
the suite. Rushing
Akema’s dead body.
But his index finger
Hell’s fire had been launched!
*
*
*
*
*
“Why hadn’t the rain fallen?”
The Commandant was puzzled. Since the previous winter, he had
known but two nights without rain. This would make the third.
Without it, powdered cement could not thwart the launch of the
atomic capsules. At best, their altitude would be lowered a few
feet.
Worse of all, everyone of shaft one’s atomic capsules
would launch. This would set off a domino effect not only for
shaft one but the rest of the Masada shafts throughout the entire
Earth.
He heard the blaring alarm sounding throughout the camp.
Knowing his entire crew had been alerted, his mind agonized on
a means of aborting the launch. The A-bomb capsules would
spring forth in an hour. Likewise, every man would be executed
by a shock in the inner brain.
There was no place to hide from the blast at Amazonia, no
blockhouse like that which protected rocketeers at Cape
341
Kennedy, no bomb shelter like those that kept Londoners from
harm during V-2 bombings, not even a desk to crawl under for a
duck-n-cover drill.
Within an hour, the atomic contagion would launch, the death
sentence for all life within ten thousand miles of Amazonia.
If failure was not an option, the rains would have fallen, but they
did not. The launch was fail safe, i.e., if he did not ignite it, it
would happen anyway. The hour was a brief stay of execution.
It was simply designed to assure launch readiness. How
presumptuous he had been! Why hadn’t he sought a backup
plan? Now his hated nemesis would triumph. Akema’s evil
would reign forevermore.
The wildlife about the camp sensed the peril. Monkeys were
screaming, birds were screeching, even his dog was barking in an
unnatural yelp, as though all creation was crying out for mercy.
He alone was appointed to hear their plea.
Some had said that one’s life parades before them when death is
eminent.
For him, it was not a chronological parade of life’s
events.
Rather it was a parade of Hebrew orthodoxy.
Suddenly, as though in a trance, he was thrust into those ancient
gardens where he was witnessing the screams of a dying Abel
slain by his brother’s knife.
As the image faded, another emerged of that same knife being
lifted heavenward by Abraham above his beloved son Isaac.
Yet, before the knife fell, the vision morphed once more.
Abraham’s knife had become a spear held by a Roman centurion.
Only it was not stayed. It found its mark plunging into the side
of the one the Christians called Jesus as He hung on a wooden
cross.
Then, a deafening voice called out, TRULY THIS WAS THE
SON OF GOD. At that moment, the Commandant felt his insides
342
strangely warmed. Tears flowed from his eyes. His hatred for
Akema had dissolved, replaced by an inexplicable love for the
one who hung on that cross, impaled by that centurion spear.
Wiping away his tears, he beheld the bedlam in Amazonia’s
camp, his men running amuck, some already being exterminated
by the horrible electrical brain charge. An alarm sounded from
the mouth of the shaft. He recalled its purpose…to clear the path
for the A-bomb launch.
Somehow the thought connected with a dream-like scene from
days ago. It was of Samson bound by those temple pillars. He
looked toward Amazonia’s equipment garage. The open structure
had only a roof supported by four massive pillar-like logs.
Between them was his SAMSON, the camp OTV.
The frequency of the warning alarm was increasing, the sign that
launch was even more imminent. At the pitch when the human
ear could no longer hear its tone, the Masada Response would
begin.
“Please God, let me reach the OTV in time?”
He remembered his parents laughing at his way of running as a
child. They said he was like the deer in Scripture. His feet were
like “hinds feet.” Some kind of empowerment was giving him
that same kind of youthful strength as he galloped for the OTV.
He found the key still in the ignition from his previous use. At
once, the six horsepower engine came alive as he rotated the
throttle to the max. Now the alarm pitch was becoming a siren
more than a ringing bell as the frequency increased.
He was only thirty feet from the open shaft.
The thought came: How very ironic is this moment, my arms
stretched out, gripping either handle of the steering yoke.
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Perhaps, I am Earth’s Samson.
Then, he rocked his body forward hoping to increase his speed
and momentum. It was as though he was one with the OTV, its
grips, those pillars, Samson, and his Lord and Savior Jesus
Christ. He would bring Akema’s temple down.
*
*
*
*
*
The U.S. Geological Survey was first to report the unusual Earth
tremor detected by its South American seismometers. It barely
registered on the Rickter Scale which quantifies such Earthquake
like incidents. Some agents of the Consortium were concerned.
They believed its general location was near NANA’s Amazonia
site. Others argued it couldn’t have been a Masada launch since
nothing came of it.
344
Author’s Epilogue
While LAST DAYS ON THE MOON falls in the category of
fiction, much of the story draws from the Apollo era experience.
To that end, the author contacted several NASA colleagues and
Christian friends hoping to correlate the characters with historic
Apollo veterans. Of course, the ideal astronaut, based on how the
tale unfolded, would be Charlie Duke, Apollo 16’s lunar lander
pilot, the tenth man to set foot on the Moon. For that reason, the
author contacted his long-time friend.
Charlie Duke, Apollo 16 – 10th Man on the Moon
However, the author whose engineering of Apollo’s warning
systems served the story well needed an Apollo flight controller.
This person would be familiar with the GUIDO and Capcom
Jenny’s acts as a MOCR flight controller. The hand of God’s
Providence was wonderfully at work in behalf of the story. In
recent years, the author had rekindled a Christian friendship with,
perhaps, the most prominent of the Flight Dynamics Officers,
FDO Jerry C. Bostick.
345
The Author, Apollo’s Warning System Engineer
Indeed, both Charlie Duke and Jerry Bostick shared the author’s
Christian faith. This made the story’s Gospel content appropriate
to their world-view. They were the ideal experts for refining
LAST DAYS’s narrative.
In fact, it was Charlie who had
placed the photo of his family on the Moon, a key element of the
story.
Additionally, it was Jerry whose interview with the
APOLLO 13 screen writers birthed the never to be forgotten tagline, “Failure Is Not an Option.”
Apollo’s Lead FDO Jerry Bostick with Gene Kranz
Besides, Jerry had served NASA as Apollo 13.s Chief Flight
Dynamics Officer (FDO) and in his earlier career briefly as a
RETRO. No more cognizant expert exists for commentary about
the lunar exploration science fiction tale of the EAGLE II crew
being marooned on the Moon than Jerry. Jerry Bostick* was the
former Chief of the NASA Flight Dynamics Branch at the
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Johnson Space Center in Houston, Texas. (**Jerry’s Apollo years
NASA biography is included below.)
In addition to contacting Charlie and Jerry, a careful reading of
Charlie and wife Dotty’s non-fiction novel MOONWALKER led
much to the crafting of LAST DAYS ON THE MOON.
Additionally, both Charlie and Jerry had done extensive
interviews for the NASA Oral History project. The content of
those interviews proved quite useful for fabricating events and
realism to the setting of the MOCR and lunar firmament aboard
ROVER II.
Charlie’s interview proved hugely helpful.
question for him:.
I only had one
“Charlie, if you and John Young were stranded two miles
from the LM because your rover malfunctioned, how
much time would it have required to walk back to the LM if
you had to carry with you collected Moon rocks?
(Just needed an estimate based on your recollections.)”
Charlie graciously responded…
“I would think it would take about an hour.”
I’d estimated a half hour for Sid and Valerie’s trips from the
disabled Eagle II rover to Orion’s descent stage. Quickly, I
adjusted the time to an hour.
*****
Remarkably, a reading of Jerry Bostick’s NASA Oral History
interview made his experience an ideal alter-ego for LAST
DAYS’s GUIDO. Also, from the onset, the author, a NASA
employee for more than 40 years, thinly veiled his experiences.
as the Apollo engineer and Christian believer. This became an
underlying fabric which comprised the story.
But discovering how closely Jerry Bostick’s NASA-life mirrored
the GUIDO’s was altogether heartening, the hand of God’s
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Providence. Indeed, often Bostick’s career became the thread
which gave the GUIDO’s character plausibility.
Nevertheless, the greatest contribution of the pair, Duke and
Bostick, came from the sharing of their Christian faith, incidents
akin to those encountered in the fictional account of Justin Lewis
and his crew members. These, though non-fiction, are every bit
as faith building as any told in the rescue of the EAGLE II crew.
The altogether tired legal disclaimer on most novels’ title page
really should be altered for LAST DAYS. (Though, of course, it
won’t be, based on litigation concerns.) How about this? “Any
resemblance between persons living or dead is purely
Providential.
For example, in Charlie’s NASA Oral History interview, he
shared a dream he had several months prior to driving the Lunar
Rover on the Moon:
“Before the mission…, I’d had this dream about John (Young)
and I driving the rover up to the North Ray Crater and we came
over one of the little ridges, and there’s a set of tracks in front of
us. And it’s rover tracks! Well, gosh, you know, we reported (the
tracks) to Mission Control (in Charlie’s’ dream). We started
following these tracks. Well that dream was so real that one of
the things, when I wanted to look north, was to see if I could see
that set of tracks.”
While Charlie found no tracks that day, Valerie and Sid, find
them, and, perhaps, one day another crew will find Charlie’s
Rover’s tracks fulfilling his dream.
(The point is that Charlie took dreams seriously, despite their
implausibility. Though he has always been adamant in his belief
that no alien beings exist, could not the tracks have been from a
clandestine Soviet rover. Or, perhaps, simply the retracing of
their Rover’s path about the lunar firmament.)
348
But more importantly, as to contributing to the story, was
Charlie’s photo of his family, left on the Moon. Here is his
description of the act:
“I took a picture of my family. Our kids were 5 and 7. The little
picture had been taken in the backyard by one of the NASA guys,
Ludy Benjamin, and we had that encased (and) —shrinkwrapped. On the back of this photograph, we’d written: “This is
the family of Astronaut Duke from Planet Earth. Landed on the
Moon, April 1972.” And the kids had signed it, you know, to sort
of get them involved with the flight. So I left that on the Moon
and took a picture of the picture, and that’s one of our neatest
possessions now.”
Regarding the premise employed in LAST DAYS ON THE
MOON that Duke’s lander and rover would be intact in the year
2030, Charlie commented after being asked…
“If you had a chance to go back to Descartes, what do you think
you’d find? Do you think your lunar module and your flag and all
that would still be there?”
“Well, without a nearby meteorite impact, yeah. I believe it’d still
be there.”
349
And then Astronaut Duke agreed that …”the lunar module would
last longer than the Rocky Mountains”…unless, as Charlie
added…”You know… the frequency of meteorite impacts in that
area. And it’d be easy for… a couple of them to hit, that were
football size. It would—create a pretty good crater.” (That
speculation gives credence to the peril which Sid and Valerie
faced in the rescue of Eagle II’s crew.)
Additionally, LAST DAYS ON THE MOON features the Lunar
Rover and its counterpart ROVER II. (In fact, ROVER II
becomes sort of a character in the plot.) For that reason, it was
useful to examine Charlie’s assessment of the miraculous original
machine. This is what Charlie had to say about his beloved
Moon car:
“Yeah. It was an incredible machine. Of course [it]
revolutionized lunar surface exploration. Instead of 400 yards,
you could go 4 miles in any direction.
And so, our objective, of course, was the Descartes highlands of
the Moon. And it was a valley 8 to 10 miles across, and the
objective was to explore…to the south to a place we called Stone
Mountain and then to the north, 3 or 4 miles, to a place called
North Ray Crater, which was at the base of the Smoky
Mountains, you know, after the names that we had selected. And
so, with a rover, you could do that.
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You know, we took…40/50 minutes to drive down south; and I
was the navigator. We had trained, so I was the navigator; and
John …was the driver of the rover. And since the TV camera
couldn’t be on during our drive across the Moon (the antenna had
to be pointed right at the Earth to get a TV picture), and so as we
drove, the antenna was whipping… and it would never stay
pointed. And it wasn’t gyro-stabilized, so we never had TV back
in Mission Control while we were under way.
So to cover that gap, which might be as much as 2 kilometers or
whatever, I was taking pictures and describing the terrain we
were going over. So I was sort of the travel guide for Mission
Control; the eyes of Mission Control during that time.
And I
had a set of maps that would take us from lunar module to Point
A, or whatever, Stop One. And these maps were the same
photographs that had been taken on Apollo 14 of our landing
area, and so it was like you were looking down.
Now unfortunately, once you get on the surface, some of the
features just disappear. You know, it’s not like looking down
from altitude. And so you could see the major features, like Stone
Mountain. But if you were looking for a spot like Plum Crater—
Plum Crater was 1.7 kilometers in—to the west of us, and
directly west. So we had to navigate out to this place, and, you
know, you were looking around. It was like you couldn’t see the
objective for the trees type deal.”
Based on Charlie’s narrative above, the reader sees that Valerie
and Sid’s experience is plausible. The navigational challenges
were altogether real even for the modest few miles Charlie’s
Rover ventured from the lunar lander. Obviously, the ride was
somewhat bumpy judging by the TV antenna whipping about.
Additionally, the location of the craters was difficult to see as
described by Valerie and Sid, and, finally, it took John Young as
driver and Charlie as navigator three-quarters of an hour to
journey a mere few miles. Likewise did Sid, as driver, and
Valerie, as navigator, journey scores of miles in search of Duke
and Young’s Apollo 16 lander’s remains.
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Continuing Charlie Duke’s remarks about the Lunar Rover:
“You were just too close. But the maps were really good. We
landed within a couple of hundred meters of where we thought
we were going to land. So we, you know, basically recognized
the major landing mark—spots. And I remember as John started
off, I said, “Okay, John. Steer 120 degrees for 1.2 kilometers, and
then turn left to 090 degrees and go another 2 kilometers or
whatever it was. And so, that’s the way we navigated. The lunar
rover had a little directional gyro. There was no magnetic field on
the Moon, so a magnetic compass wouldn’t work.”
(Just as Valerie and Sid employed Dead-Reckoning-Navigation,
so did Charlie Duke, John Young and Christopher Columbus.)
“So we had a little gyroscope that was mounted in the instrument
panel of the rover, and we pointed it down-Sun and it was the
old Navy lubber’s line: You had a bar which came down across
it, cast a shadow on the gyroscope compass card. And so we
assumed that that shadow was west, and so we just turned the
card till 270 was up underneath that shadow; and that was our
direction. And then we had a little odometer on the wheel that
counted out in kilometers, and so that was our distance. And so,
that’s how we navigated up on the lunar surface.
Generally our…traverses were sort of egg shaped, elliptical
maneuvers. We’d start out (in) one direction, and we’d make a
big loop and come back to the lunar module 6/7 hours later. That
was the plan. And, you never really worried about getting lost up
there because everywhere you drove, you left your tracks. And
so, if you really were unsure of your position, it was easy just to
turn around and follow your tracks back.” (Exactly what Sid and
Valerie did.)
I’m convinced they (the tracks) are (still there), unless there was
a meteorite impact nearby that, you know—“ (For Valerie and
Sid that was the case which nearly killed them, a meteor shower.)
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Duke continues about the rover:
“The car was amazing. It was electric, four-wheel drive, and it
would climb a 25-degree slope. And so going up Stone Mountain,
it felt like we were going out the back of the seat, because it was
a pretty steep hill. And we got up to our objective, which was a
place called Cincos Craters, and we turned around and sort of
started back downhill and, golly! It felt like—then you really saw
how steep it was, because it felt like you were going to fall out
the front of the rover.
Well fortunately, we found a little bench, level area, and we
parked the car…You could see, in the distance, [Smokey]
Mountain and North Ray Crater. And there was—right out in the
middle our little lunar module that was -- the Mylar was orange,
and you could see that. And then looking off to the northwest
over this way was—as far as the eye could see—was just the
rolling terrain of lunar surface, you know, shades of gray. It was
really an impressive sight.”
While Charlie’s assessments give LAST DAYS ON THE MOON
believability, his Christian testimony, likewise, makes the
spiritual content of the tale plausible. This is demonstrated in
what Duke shared in his popular book Moonwalker which he coauthored with wife Dotty. The following paraphrases deal with
his accounts of God-given dreams and manifestations of the Holy
Spirit akin to those experienced by protagonist Justin Lewis.
On page 267, he tells of a dream where, like Justin Lewis,
Charlie is in space, but like Lewis, without a spacecraft. It is the
blackness of the void which impresses Duke such that he is
moving with great speed into the unknown. Suddenly, the most
sinister and evil face Duke has encountered snarls angrily at him,
the face of the Devil himself. Yet, like Justin Lewis, there is a
sense of peace such that Satan fades away into oblivion. Charlie
has been protected by his Savior, Jesus Christ the Lord.
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More evidence of God’s supernatural nature comes the following
night to the Duke bedroom. By Astronaut Duke’s testimony, at
1:45 a.m. something nudges him on the shoulder seemingly
pulling him out of bed. Frightened, Charlie and Dotty pray for
understanding. The following night at exactly the same time,
Duke awakens feeling the same touch. Leaving the bedroom,
Charlie kneels on the living room floor to pray and senses an
overwhelming presence of God’s Holy Spirit, in much the same
fashion experienced by Justin Lewis throughout the Eagle II
rescue mission. If the 10th Man on the Moon testifies to such, is
LAST DAYS ON THE MOON implausible? Certainly, not!
Finally, there is evidence that circumstances which lead to Eagle
II’s rescue are, indeed, wholly uncontrived. This is based on
similar fortuitous events in Flight Controller’s Jerry Bostick’s
path from Mississippi to Mission Control.
Among the Bible’s sixty-six books, perhaps, none so surely
shows the hand of God as the Book of Esther. Despite God never
being mentioned in its text, unquestionably, the hand of His
Providence witnesses his keeping and care.
Likewise does God show his guiding hand in Jerry’s story of how
he became NASA’s lead RETRO for the Apollo 8 Christmas Eve
Mission: (Italics indicate the author’s citing of Providence.)
“I didn't have a lot of interest in aviation. In fact, I would say
almost none. When I was in college, I majored in civil
engineering, with a specialty in structures, although beginning in
about 1957 with Sputnik, I did become interested in the manned
space program.
But being headed on a career path that didn't seem consistent
with that, I just assumed that was something that I would always
read about in the papers and would never be a part of. I have to
say I was somewhat envious of some of my classmates in college
who started talking about jobs that they were going to at NASA,
354
but I just thought, well, that's good for them, I'm going to go and
be a structural engineer.
In fact, I had accepted a job with Boeing [Airplane Company] in
Seattle, in their weights and measurements department. I guess I
was going to weigh airplanes and compute [centers of] gravity or
something,
I was walking across campus one day with a friend of mine, and
he asked if I would go by the placement office with him. (God’s
Providence) So I walked into the office, and the placement
director happened (God’s Providence) to be there, and he said,
"Oh, Bostick," he said, "I really need your help. I know you have
accepted a job already, but I've been trying to get NASA Langley
Research Center [Hampton, Virginia] to come here and interview
for years, and they're finally coming, (God’s Providence), and
now I don't have anybody to talk to him. So would you please go
in and talk to this guy?
He's coming next Tuesday or whatever, just act interested and
please don't tell him you've already accepted a job. But I need
some good interviewees." (God’s Providence)
Unfortunately, I don't remember the person's name, but he
interviewed me and convinced me (God’s Providence) that I
should go to work at NASA. So I got out of my job that I'd
agreed to take with Boeing in Seattle, and in January of '62, I
headed out for the Langley Research Center.
I was in the structures division at Langley, and the branch that I
was in was working on all kinds of equipment that you could
package into small volumes and then deploy once you get into
space, things like antennas. My specific assignment was to
develop a space antenna that you could package in a small
volume in a launch vehicle and then deploy it once you got into
space.
355
I thought this was really exciting, at least for the first couple of
weeks. Then I started asking my section head about what the
program was and what was going to happen. (God’s Providence)
As I developed the thing, what do I do, and questions like that, I
didn't get a lot of real satisfactory answers out of him, (God’s
Providence) and so then I ended up talking to the division chief.
He said, ‘Well, you'll write all of this in a NASA tech note, and
it'll go into all the libraries at all of the NASA centers,’ and he
said it like there were thousands of them or something.
‘People will read it and they will then call you up and say, 'Hey,
we need one of these,' and you'll probably continue to work in the
actual development of that. But right now, for at least a year
you'll just be doing research.’ I said, ‘Well, what if nobody calls?’
He said, ‘Well, then we'll assign you another project.’
This was all within the first month I was there, (God’s
Providence in timing) and I guess I realized that I really wasn't
cut out for research. I had much rather work on known problems
to try find solutions, other than pure research.
One of my co-workers in the division at that time was a guy by
the name of Ed Martin, and I noticed that about two or three
times a week for a couple of weeks in a row, (God’s Providence,
a revelation) he would disappear for an hour. That wasn't like
him to do that, so finally one day I asked him,
‘What's going on here?’
He said, ‘Be quiet,’ and he called me out into the lab. He said,
‘I'm going over to the Space Task Group side of Langley Field.
I've been interviewing for a job up there, over there, and it's
going to be renamed the Manned Spacecraft Center and they're
going to move to Houston, Texas.’
I said, ‘These are the manned spaceflight guys?’
356
He said, "Yes."
I said, ‘Well, sign me up for an interview.’
And he did, and I went over and talked to a gentleman by the
name of Chris [C.] Critzos. Chris was a very nice gentleman, but
he said, ‘Unfortunately, I don't think that we need anybody with a
civil engineering degree. We're looking for electrical,
mechanical, aeronautical types, and we just don't need any civil
engineers.’
So I was actually leaving the office, and Chris [Christopher C.]
Kraft [Jr.] walked in (God’s Providence in opening doors
through divine timing) and Critzos introduced me to Kraft and he
said, ‘This young man works over at Langley and
he wants to go to Houston with us, but I told him we aren't
looking for any civil engineers.’
So Kraft looked at me and he said, ‘You're a civil engineer?’
‘Yes.’
‘What do you do?’ I told him. He said, ‘Why do you want to join
us and go to Houston?’
I said, ‘Well, I really would prefer to work on real problems,
finding solutions to real problems rather than just doing pure
research. Unfortunately, it's taken me a couple of months to
figure that out, and I just would much prefer to work on the
manned space program.’
So he turned about to Critzos and he says, ‘Hell, hire him. We
might need somebody to survey (that’s what Civil Engineers can
do) the Moon.’ (God’s Providential favor)
So they hired me, and in April of '62, after just working at
Langley for a couple of months, I was on my way to Houston.
John [H.] Glenn's [Jr.] flight had occurred at the time that I was at
357
Langley, but as soon as I got to Houston, they put me to work in
mission planning on [M.] Scott Carpenter's flight, MA-7.
On Glenn's flight, there was some question about what the exact
weight of the spacecraft was [at retrofire and] that might have
caused it to miss the landing point a little bit. So specifically on
Carpenter's flight, I generated a lot of plots, graphs, showing the
variation in landing point for a given retrofire time, depending on
spacecraft weight and also depending on the attitude of the
spacecraft at the time of retrofire.
I thought that was really exciting work. In fact, all of that data
went into the MA-7 mission planning document and even a
couple of the charts went into the flight data file that Carpenter
took with him on board the flight.
In college, I was in ROTC [Reserve Officers Training
Corps], and when you graduate after being in ROTC, you have to
sign a commitment to go into the service. I was in Army ROTC,
so I had to go into the Army then, in May of '62, just before
Carpenter's flight. I went out to Fort Bliss in El Paso, Texas, for
nine weeks of officers' school and had to listen to Carpenter's
flight on the radio and read about it in the papers.
When I heard that he had landed about 250 miles long because he
wasn't in attitude [at] retrofire, I thought, jeez, didn't he look at
my curves?
My ROTC commitment was for two years, but Chris Kraft
somehow arranged after my nine weeks of officers' school at Fort
Bliss, for me to be assigned back to the Manned Spacecraft
Center in Houston. (God’s Providence and favor) So, I was
back at Houston and again working on Mercury flights. Well, we
weren't at war at the time, and I guess they figured they didn't
need me that bad. I'm not sure exactly how he did that, but
anyway, I got assigned to Houston.
358
When I got back to Houston I started working on the MA-8,
Wally [Walter M.] Schirra's [Jr.] flight. Did the launch abort
analysis. I hand-drew the plot board that they used in the control
center at the Cape [Cape Canaveral, Florida] at the time for the
launch phase that has all the limit lines, the nominal trajectory
and the limit lines for the various aborts, established the different
abort modes.
So then I got to go down to the Cape for his flight with Carl
Huss, who was my boss in MPAD [Mission Planning and
Analysis Division] and was the chief Retrofire Officer. So I
obviously worked very closely with him, and he used a lot of the
data, and the launch abort stuff was used by the Flight Dynamics
Officer [FDO], who at the time was Glynn [S.] Lunney.
So I got to go down to the Cape and support them there in the
simulations and in real time. That was a pretty exciting thing. It's
one thing to see the flights on television, but to be in the control
center at the Cape where the building would shake when the
Atlas launch vehicle went off was pretty exciting.
I had to pinch myself a lot with that. I hadn't even been out of
school for a year, and here I am in the most wonderful job in the
whole world. How could it get any better than this? (God’s
Providence gives one the desires of the heart.)
But I continued to work in MPAD and worked on Gordon [L.]
Cooper's [Jr.] flight, MA-9, which turned out to be the last. In the
meantime, we, of course, started working on Gemini. I continued
in mission planning, doing more or less the same thing that I had
been doing for the Mercury flights on Gemini.
Not too long after the last Mercury flight, MA-9, Carl Huss, my
boss, had a heart attack, and so they asked me if I wanted to work
in the control center as a Retrofire Officer, and of course I said
yes very quickly. John [S.] Llewellyn, who had been the numbertwo Retrofire Officer after Carl moved up to the prime position
and then I was the number-two Retro. Did that for the first three
359
Gemini flights, and then after Gemini III, Glynn Lunney and
Cliff [Clifford E.] Charlesworth, who had then come on board as
number-two Flight Dynamics Officer.
Glynn, came to me one day and said, ‘We think that you need to
move over from Retro to Flight Dynamics Officer.’ (God’s
Providence and favor)
That sounded pretty good to me, because the Flight Dynamics
Officer was the lead trajectory guy in the trench, and he was
really over the Retrofire Officer and the Guidance Officer, which
was a new position for Gemini. So, to me, that was a promotion
going from Retro to FDO, and I wanted to do it. So I went to talk
to John Mayer, who was my division chief, and he advised
against it.
I talked to Lyn [Lynwood] Dunseith, who was another branch
chief at the time within mission planning and analysis, and he
also advised against it.
Well, they both kind of told me the same thing. ‘Hey, this is
where all of the good work is. We're doing all the work, and the
flight controllers are just the people who sit at the consoles and
do what we tell them to do. Without us, they wouldn't be
anything, so we think you need to stay here.’
But after thinking about it for a couple days, I decided I really
wanted to do it, (God causes one to select the right path despite
obstacles.) so I went back to Mayer and told him and he said,
‘Well, I'm really disappointed, and I'm going to refuse to sign
your transfer.’
So it went up to Chris Kraft then, because he was director of
flight operations and over both—well, a part of the deal, if I was
going to be a Flight Dynamics Officer, was I had to transfer to
the Flight Control Division.
360
Of course, that's the main reason John Mayer was against that,
because I guess he was going to lose me and I was going to go to
the flight control division. Because Lunney, rightfully so, felt that
to be a Flight Dynamics Officer was a full-time job. and I
wouldn't be able to continue what I was doing in mission
planning.
So it did involve the transfer of divisions. Anyway, it went to
Kraft, and he called me on the telephone one day and he said,
‘Young man, I understand you want to transfer to the Flight
Control Division and move over to Flight Dynamics Officer.’
I said, ‘Yes, sir, I do.’
He said, ‘Why do you want to do that?’
I said, ‘Well, I really love working in the control center, and I
think that's what I want to do.’
He said, ‘So be it,’ (God is the higher power, above all bosses
and supervisors, if His plans and purposes are to be carried out.)
and he hung up. That's the last I heard of that.
That's the way Chris usually is about things like that, all things, I
guess. Well, I would like to think that. It was a good move, in
retrospect. It was a good move.
About that time we were bringing the control center in Houston
along also. It had been under construction for at least a couple of
years, I guess. After a lot of testing, it was decided that we
would use it for the first time on the Gemini IV flight, but
because of the little bit of remaining uncertainty, it was decided
that we would activate the control center at the Cape also, and
have a skeleton crew down there for the launch phase, which was
the most critical. So Glynn Lunney went down as Flight Director
and I went down as a combination Retrofire Officer, Flight
Dynamics Officer, and Guidance Officer.
361
I literally had a chair with wheels on it that would slide back and
forth between the three consoles. Arnie [Arnold D.] Aldrich did a
similar thing for the systems. He was a combined guidance,
navigation and control officer [GNC] and the EECOM, the
electrical, environmental [and communications officer]. So he
also covered two or three consoles. Al [Alan B.] Shepard [Jr.]
was the Capcom [capsule communicator]. So we went down for a
couple of weeks of simulations and then for the real launch…”
From my perspective, meeting Jerry Bostick was, likewise, God’s
Providence. We shared Sunday school superintendent duties at
the local Methodist Church attended by many of the Apollo
astronauts, engineers and flight controllers. I led the 9:30 a.m.
Sunday school, Jerry, the 11:00 a.m. Later, we participated in a
home Bible study together.
Likewise, Charlie Duke and I met through Providential
circumstances. As President of a local Christian Business Men’s
Fellowship, I had invited Charlie to share his Christian testimony.
It was the best attended meeting during my 25 years of
involvement, nearly 350 people crammed into the Holiday Inn
ballroom across from the Johnson Space Center. At the meeting
Charlie had prayed for our sons, Jared and Matt, small boys at
the time, who later became a Christian lawyer and pastor of a
Houston area church, respectively.
Truly, all of us, Charlie, Jerry and I benefited from God’s
Providence in a fashion not unlike told in LAST DAYS ON THE
MOON!
* * * * *
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*ORIGIN OF APOLLO 13 QUOTE :
"FAILURE IS NOT AN OPTION."
[Among those pictured above during the Apollo 13 rescue are:
Glynn Lunney (lower left), Bill Tindall (seated beside Mr.
Lunney with his chin in his hand), Christopher Kraft (standing
beside Mr. Tindall with cigar in left hand), and Jerry Bostick
(wearing a sports coat and tie and looking over Tindall's right
shoulder)]
Origin of "Failure is not an option" Quote
Among the great quotes of manned space are: "Godspeed, John
Glenn", "Houston, Tranquility Base here. The Eagle has landed.",
"One small step for (or: a) man, one giant step for all mankind",
"Houston, we've had (or: we have) a problem", and "Failure is
not an option." I've often wondered about the origin of the latter
quote. Recently, an e-mail from a friend, Jerry Bostick, who
contributed significantly to the success of the movie APOLLO 13
detailed the story. Jerry, as one of the key flight controllers
responsible for the rescue, served as a technical advisor for the
movie. Jerry's son Mike worked for Ron Howard as a coproducer of APOLLO 13. It was Mike who suggested Mr.
Howard acquire the rights to Apollo 13's Commander Jim
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Lovell's best selling book: LOST MOON, the story of the Apollo
13 mission. Here is the account of the origin of "FAILURE IS
NOT AN OPTION" with regard to APOLLO 13, the movie:
Explanation by Jerry C. Bostick
Flight Dynamics Officer (FDO) Apollo 13
As far as the expression 'Failure is not an option", you are correct
that Kranz never used that term. In preparation for the movie, the
script writers, Al Reinart and Bill Broyles, came down to Clear
Lake to interview me on "What are the people in Mission Control
really like?" One of their questions was "Weren't there times
when everybody, or at least a few people, just panicked?" My
answer was "No, when bad things happened, we just calmly laid
out all the options, and failure was not one of them. We never
panicked, and we never gave up on finding a solution." I
immediately sensed that Bill Broyles wanted to leave and
assumed that he was bored with the interview. Only months later
did I learn that when they got in their car to leave, he started
screaming, "That's it! That's the tag line for the whole movie,
Failure is not an option. Now we just have to figure out who to
have say it." Of course, they gave it to the Kranz character, and
the rest is history.
From left to right: Ron Howard, Mike Bostick, Jerry Bostick, Tom Hanks
Your observations about the actual mission and how it affected
your faith are very interesting, because I, too, became an even
stronger believer during and after the mission. My first
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"religious" experience during a mission was on Apollo 8 when
they first came around from the back side of the Moon the first
time at the exact second we had predicted. I teared up and told
my colleagues, "This just proves that someone is in charge who
knows a lot more about orbital mechanics than any of us."
*****
NASA JOHNSON SPACE CENTER ORAL HISTORY PROJECT
**BIOGRAPHICAL DATA SHEET
NAME: Jerry Creel Bostick
ORAL HISTORY: 23 February 2000, 24 June 2000
EDUCATIONAL BACKGROUND:
B.S. in Civil Engineering, Mississippi State University,
Starkville, Mississippi, 1962
MILITARY EXPERIENCE:
First Lieutenant, NASA Assignment, United States Army,
(1962-1964)
NASA CAREER:
NASA Langley Research Center, Hampton, Virginia Aerospace
Engineer, Structures Division (1962)
NASA Manned Spacecraft Center, Houston, Texas
Aerospace Engineer, Mission Planning and Analysis
Division (1962-1965)
Flight Dynamics Officer, Flight Dynamics Officer
Section, Flight Dynamics Branch (1965-1966)
Range Safety Representative (1968-1973)
Head, Flight Dynamics Officer Section, Flight Dynamics
Branch (1966-1968)
Chief, Flight Dynamics Branch (1968-1973)
*****
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Biography Charles Moss Duke, Jr.
NAME: Charles Moss Duke, Jr. (Brigadier General, USAF, Ret.)
NASA Astronaut (former)
PERSONAL DATA: Born in Charlotte, North Carolina, on
October 3, 1935. Married to the former Dorothy Meade
Clairborne of Atlanta, Georgia. They have two grown sons.
Recreational interests include hunting, fishing, reading, and
playing golf.
EDUCATION: Attended Lancaster High School in Lancaster,
South Carolina, and was graduated valedictorian from the
Admiral Farragut Academy in St. Petersburg, Florida;
received a bachelor of science degree in Naval Sciences from
the U.S. Naval Academy in 1957 and a master of science
degree in Aeronautics from the Massachusetts Institute of
Technology in 1964; presented an honorary doctorate of
philosophy from the University of South Carolina in 1973,
and an honorary doctorate of Humanities from Francis
Marion College in 1990.
ORGANIZATIONS: Member of the Air Force Association, the
Society of Experimental Test Pilots, Reserve Officer
Association, Full Gospel Businessmen's Fellowship,
Christian Businessmen's Committee; National Space Society.
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SPECIAL HONORS: Awarded the NASA Distinguished
Service Medal, the JSC Certificate of Commendation (1970),
the Air Force Distinguished Service Medal with Oak Leaf
Cluster and AF Legion of Merit, and Air Force Command
Pilot Astronaut Wings, the SETP Iven C. Kincheloe Award
of 1972, the AAS Flight Achievement Award for 1972, the
AIAA Haley Astronautics Award for 1973, and the
Federation Aeronautique Internationale V.M. Komarov
Diploma in 1973; named South Carolina Man of the Year in
1973 and inducted into the South Carolina Hall of Fame in
1973; and presented the Boy Scouts of America
Distinguished Eagle Scout Award in 1975.
EXPERIENCE: When notified of his selection as an astronaut,
Duke was at the Air Force Aerospace Research Pilot School
as an instructor teaching control systems and flying in the F101, F-104, and T-33 aircraft. He graduated from the
Aerospace Research Pilot School in September 1965 and
stayed on there as an instructor.
He is a retired Air Force Reserve Brigadier General and was
commissioned in 1957 upon graduation from the Naval
Academy. Upon entering the Air Force, he went to Spence Air
Base, Georgia, for primary flight training and then to Webb Air
Force Base, Texas, for basic flying training, where in 1958 he
became a distinguished graduate. He was again a distinguished
graduate at Moody Air Force Base, Georgia, where he completed
advanced training in F-86L aircraft. Upon completion of this
training, he served three years as a fighter interceptor pilot with
the 526th Fighter Interceptor Squadron at Ramstein Air Base,
Germanypilot with the 526th Fighter Interceptor Squadron at
Ramstein Air Base, Germany.
He has logged 4,147 hours flying time, which includes 3,632
hours
in
jet
aircraft.
Duke was one of the 19 astronauts selected by NASA in April
1966. He served as member of the astronaut support crew for the
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Apollo 10 flight. He was CAPCOM for Apollo 11, the first
landing on the Moon and he served as backup lunar module pilot
on Apollo 13.
Duke served as lunar module pilot of Apollo 16, April 16-27,
1972. He was accompanied on the fifth manned lunar landing
mission by John W. Young (spacecraft commander) and Thomas
K. Mattingly II (command module pilot). Apollo 16 was the first
scientific expedition to inspect, survey, and sample materials and
surface features in the Descartes region of the rugged lunar
highlands.
Duke and Young commenced their record setting lunar surface
stay of 71 hours and 14 minutes by maneuvering the lunar
module "Orion" to a landing on the rough Cayley Plains. In three
subsequent excursions onto the lunar surface, they each logged
20 hours and 15 minutes in extravehicular activities involving the
emplacement and activation of scientific equipment and
experiments, the collection of nearly 213 pounds of rock and soil
samples, and the evaluation and use of Rover-2 over the roughest
and blockiest surface yet encountered on the Moon.
Other Apollo 16 achievements included the largest payload
placed in lunar orbit (76, 109 pounds); first cosmic ray detector
deployed on lunar surface; first lunar observatory with the far UV
camera; and longest in-flight EVA from a command module
during transEarth coast (1 hour and 13 minutes). The latter feat
was accomplished by Mattingly when he ventured out to
"Casper's" SIM-bay for the retrieval of vital film cassettes from
the panoramic and mapping cameras. Apollo 16 concluded with a
Pacific Ocean splashdown and subsequent recovery by the USS
TICONDEROGA.
With the completion of his first space flight, Duke has logged
265 hours in space and over 21 hours of extra vehicular activity.
Duke also served as backup lunar module pilot for Apollo 17.
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In December 1975, Duke retired from the Astronaut program to
enter private business. He is owner of Duke Investments, and is
President of Charlie Duke Enterprises. He is an active speaker
and Christian lay witness and President of Duke Ministry For
Christ.
*****
Biography of Author Jerry Woodfill
For more than 50 years, Jerry Woodfill has been employed by
NASA in Houston. He holds BAEE and BSEE degrees from Rice
University which he attended on a basketball scholarship. At the
onset of the lunar landing program, he managed the spacecraft
warning systems so that he was monitoring spacecraft Eagle's
descent when Neil Armstrong landed on the Moon. Likewise, on
April 13, 1970, Jerry was monitoring Apollo 13's warning system
when the vehicle exploded. For his role in the rescue of Apollo
13, he shared the Presidential Medal of Freedom as a member of
the Apollo 13 Mission Operations Team. His system was the
first alert of the life-threatening malfunction depicted in the Tom
Hanks-Ron Howard movie APOLLO 13. Universal Studios
designated Jerry as a national media spokesmen for the IMAX
release of the movie Apollo 13.
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Jerry’s account of the Apollo 13 Rescue has been presented to
such groups as: AARP chapters, Rotary, the IEEE, Toshiba
Corporation’s Technical Society, American Business Women
Chapters, Women in Advertising’s Regional Convention,
Dupont’s National Reliability Conference (Keynote Speaker),
Prudential, Union Carbide, Exxon, and other retirement clubs
have been venues for the presentation. In total the program has
been presented more than 750 times in the past 35+ years.
Jerry relates unique answers to world-wide prayer as a testimony
to God’s intervention in the rescue of Apollo 13. For nearly four
decades, he has shared the account hundreds of times in more
than a dozen countries via slideshow presentations, television and
radio interviews, breakfast, luncheon, and dinner meetings. His
account is found on the website: www.spaceacts.com .
He and his wife Betty have been married for 49 years. They have
two sons, Jared, an attorney and founder of the Houston law firm
Woodfill & Pressler, L.L.P. Jared is also the current chairman of
the Harris County Republican Party. Their youngest son, Matt,
was formerly a degreed mechanical engineer in sales who chose
to enter the ministry as the founding pastor of The Woodlands
Christian Center north of Houston, Texas.
Christian Ministry Background
Mr. Woodfill has led or participated in lay witness trips to: Belize
(1 97 5), Guy ana (1 97 9), El Salv ador, Boliv ia, Costa Rica, Panama,
and Honduras. He has often been a featured speaker at national
Christian conv entions throughout the United States, Canada, the
Caribbean, Central and South America. His message has focused on
how pray er impacted the United States space program as well as his
Christian testimony of conv ersion.
He and his wife Betty have been members of several churches, both
denominational and inter-denominational, as a result of supporting
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their son Matthew’s growth in the ministry . They serv ed sev eral
y ears in a local nursing home where Betty’s mother resided until her
passing. There, Jerry often conducted serv ices, led choruses, or
simply brought residents to and from Sunday morning worship.
As a result of v isits to sev eral prisons, Jerry founded prison
fellowships of inmates through coordination with wardens. As a
result of this outreach, hundreds of men came to know Christ as
Lord and Sav ior.
Jerry Woodfill has authored a number of Christian tracts and
booklets as an outreach for Christ, mostly dealing with God’s work
in the space program: The booklet, WHAT REALLY HAPPENED TO
APOLLO 1 3 has been widely distributed throughout the NA SA area
since 1 97 7 and has affected many liv es.
He authored and published a book called SPACE ACTS which
details God’s hand in newsworthy ev ents in space history such as
the Apollo One fire, the Challenger Tragedy, and the Apollo 11 lunar
landing. His latest book is THE PROV ERBS 32 MAN which he
authored with his sons, Jared and Matt.
Detailed Professional Background
Presently, (2015) Mr. Woodfill is the Technical Managers’
Representative (TMR) of the NASA Johnson Space Center’s
(JSC) Automation, Robotics, and Simulation Division (AR&SD).
In this capacity, Mr. Woodfill is responsible for AR&SD’s
technical, administrative, cost, and contractual coordination of
the Engineering and Science Contract (JETS) presently between
JSC and the Jacobs Engineering Corporation.
Among those projects and managers that Mr. Woodfill represents
are Robonaut, a space robot designed to supplement astronaut onorbit activities, a space “life-vest” worn by astronauts on the
chest as a gas-jet powered rescue device should an EVA tether
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sever, and AERCAM, a television camcorder type device
outfitted with gas-jets, a control and communication system such
that crew members can view spacecraft exterior scenes close-up
via television while operating AERCAM from a control station
within the spacecraft cabin.
Mr. Woodfill has authored a number of technical papers and
managed various NASA research projects during the course of
his more than four decade career with the space agency. Among
these are: The moderate temperature detector development, the
Active Passive Airborne Multispectral Scanner, Orbiter
Experiment Data Manager, and the Advanced Autopilot
Technical Monitor.
In 1989, Mr. Woodfill innovated a new means of publishing
NASA educational resources called the SPACE EDUCATORS’
HANDBOOK. The project presently resides on the World Wide
Web at http://er.jsc.nasa.gov/seh/. This work has resulted in many
web awards such as 100 best Texas Web Sites from TEXAS
MONTHLY, Web Hall of Fame award, U.S.A. TODAY’s site of
the week award, etc.
Finally, Jerry Woodfill often speaks to educators and students in
behalf of NASA. His talks are inspirational and motivational in
content. Present as a student in Rice Stadium for President John
Kennedy’s Space Race landmark speech, Mr. Woodfill recreates
the message for educators, professional clubs, schools, and
universities. In this capacity, he keynoted the opening of a Texas
University’s Science and Mathematics Center presenting the
“SPACE RACE” program.
Website: www.spaceacts.com
* * * **
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POSTWORD
In the preface of Last Days on the Moon, The Masada Threat,
Jules Verne’s goal of exciting youth about the wonders of
geography was discussed.
Similarly, this novel hopes to
encourage youth to examine the technology of manned space
travel.
Throughout the story are discussions of orbital mechanics,
spacecraft and engineering. These are not fictional. Many have
their origin in the author’s career as an Advanced Projects
Definition Manager.
In this role, he worked in the New
Initiatives Office at the Johnson Space Center.
Capcom Jenny and the GUIDO’s efforts in behalf of the EAGLE
II crew clone work done to save Apollo 13 and other threatened
missions. Their demeanor reflects the spirit of Johnson Space
Center workers. Indeed, failure was never an option for Jenny,
the GUIDO or the JSC Team. In the early 1990s, the author was
assigned a project to conceive NASA’s NEXT STEP. In that
capacity, he performed
studies costing and dealing with
adaptation of Apollo/Shuttle hardware for a return to the Moon
and a manned Mars Mission.
Virtually, all of Justin Lewis’s reflections come from experiences
faith wise and space wise during the author’s nearly forty-four
years at the Johnson Space Center in Houston, Texas. They
became the fabric of the story. Their purpose was two fold: To
relate the wonders of human space exploration, but, more
importantly, to excite young people about a faith-walk with
Christ as Lord and Savior. Both are altogether wonderful
undertakings for a young person’s life.
Finally, the author closes with a non-fiction account explaining
his role in Apollo missions. Jerry Woodfill, Houston – 2015
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*****
THE MER WAS NOT THE MOCR
(MER) Mission Evaluation Room
(MOCR) Mission Operations Control Room
MER
MOCR
Several months ago, I met Gene Kranz, Flight Director for
Apollo 13. The circumstance was an interview for a National
History Day high school documentary. My interview was
scheduled for 8:30 a.m. Gene’s was at 9:00 am with Glen
Lunney’s, another of Apollo 13’s Chief Flight Controllers, at
9:30 a.m.
Since 9:08 p.m., April 13, 1970, Gene Kranz has been a hero of
mine. His words heard in my head set, following Jim Lovell’s
call “Houston we’ve had a problem,” earned Gene my lifelong
admiration.
Playing varsity basketball at Rice after experiencing a half dozen
coaches in grade school, high school and college ranks qualifies
my assessment, “No man’s response to a potential loss in an
emergency situation has more motivated me.”
Never, before or since, have I felt more inspired to win as Gene
Kranz inspired all of us facing the prospect of losing three men’s
lives. No, this was not a ball game. It was much more serious.
His words that April evening in 1970 were among the most
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empowering I have heard in my life.
But I was simply an “over-hearer.” I was assigned the Apollo 13
engineering support room, the MER. Known as the Mission
Evaluation Room or MER, it housed the spacecrafts’ systems’
engineers.
As a MER-minion, I was never central to the main events which
rescued Apollo 13. Though I was the MER engineer for the
Apollo 13 warning systems, my role was only as an expert.
Should an inexplicable glitch in an alarm occur, I might be
consulted. And I was - when the carbon dioxide levels began to
threaten the astronauts’ lives, ringing alarms. However, to this
day, I am proud that the Command Module’s alarm system was
the first warning alerting Mission Control and Lovell’s crew to
the life-threatening problem.
The Hanks/Howard movie wonderfully captures the drama of that
system’s performance.
Nevertheless, about the title MER-MINION, I need to explain.
Comparing the 1970s era MER to the Mission Operations
Control Room, known as the MOCR, would be akin to
comparing the Queen Mary to a weekend boater’s cabin cruiser.
Likewise, comparing my role in the rescue to Gene Kranz and
Glen Lunney’s, whose history interviews followed mine, would
be more incomparable.
Gene Kranz arrived in the historic MOCR for his interview just
as I was finishing mine. I’d brought my copy of FAILURE IS
NOT AN OPTION for him to autograph. Quickly, I introduced
myself as one of MER Manager Don Arabian’s MER-men, the
Caution and Warning engineer.
Not only did Gene kindly autograph my copy, but he also pointed
to where his phone for calling the MER had hung. It had been
beside his MOCR counsel display. From there he had consulted
the MER for advice. Then, he added, “Jerry have you seen the
Space Shuttle MER?” I never had.
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Following Gene’s lead across the hall to the new MER, I was
overwhelmed by its sophistication. Comparing it to the primitive
MER of the past was like contrasting a Flash Gordon B-movie
with a Spielberg Star Wars film.
Now everything was digital,
every bit as advanced as not only the original MOCR but the
upgraded version as well.
I’m not exaggerating about the “seat-of-the-pants” configuration
of our beloved 1970s MER. Indeed, in some ways, Columbus’s
bridge aboard the Santa Maria would be state-of-the-art
compared to that facility:
Rather than individual counsels for our respective engineering
stations, we shared gray vinyl cushioned chairs positioned picniclike around church-pot-luck dinner tables. Like the chairs, they
were gun metal gray.
None of us had a dedicated video display. We shared 19 inch
television-like video monitors. These were mounted overhead
atop iron tripods. By my recollection, there were a half dozen of
them placed against the curtain covered windows of the third
floor of the Manned Spacecraft Center’s Building 45. My home
TV was more sophisticated, a deluxe 25 inch RCA color floor
model.
Fortunately, I was a relatively young engineer that evening. I had
not yet reached 28 years of age. Both my chair was close enough
and eye-sight keen enough so that I was spared using binoculars.
Those in more distant seats of more senior years donned the
cumbersome bee-nocks. From their perch, they alternated
between focusing, hunting for the needed ID number, dropping
the spy-glasses into the lap, and recording things like spacecraft
pressure or voltage values.
Here the Columbus comparison is appropriate: the Admiral
peering across the Atlantic horizon with telescope, hunting for a
land sighting. Our focus was on that TV’s fuzzy black and white
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24 point alphanumeric letters along with the adjacent numbers
displaying Apollo 13’s telemetry measurements.
These
confirmed the ship’s space worthiness.
To record the status of our measurements, the MER was
equipped with the latest technology, a Polaroid-picture-in-aminute-camera. Of course, one could acquire telemetry printouts
from the data guys, but that took time. The TV screen’s snapshot was spit out of the Polaroid’s developing slot in only a
minute. Nevertheless, it was important to wipe the emulsion with
one of those “fix-it” swabs or your data sample photo might fade
away before the mission ended.
However, the nasty smelling fixative often seeped from its
squeegee applicator onto the fingers. Such made a trip to the
restroom a must.
“What dreadful poisoning might await unwashed hands?” was
not a pleasant thought. A cleansing was essential prior to dining
on a Twinkie™ from the Building 45 junk food machine. Now,
the audio set-up was actually more rudimentary than the video
arrangement. While each MER-man, (There were no MERmaids. Excuse the pun, but to my knowledge, there was not one
woman among our kind.) wore the most uncomfortable of
headgear. Those audio headsets had no soft mufflers cushioning
ears from hours of wear. NASA failed to procure hi-fi listeners’
top-of-the-line-gear. This was “low-bidders” wear. But who
cared? The scratchy voiced audio from a quarter million miles in
space had a frequency range of no more than several thousand
hertz anyway.
Accompanying the head-phones was a pushbutton audio channel
selector box.
It looked like a child’s toy, one of those
Playskool™ - for children under three years only playthings. By
my recollection, the device had nine pushbuttons for selecting
flight controller audio sub-loops.
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What made our audio situation so primitive was we could only
listen not transmit. MOCR folks had those nifty head-sets with
the protruding microphone attachment, like every computer
comes with these days. We had to use the telephone for that kind
of thing. Of course, we could only call our office, or wife, or, I
guess, one of the other MER guys in the room.
Of course, there were no touch-tone type phones, only rotary
dials. And I don’t remember the head of our team, Don Arabian,
being one of those nine channels.
To get anyone’s attention, Don had to almost scream above the
audio level of our headset’s volume. For Don, this was not a
particular handicap. His projected volume, like my voice, needed
no amplification. However, a soft-spoken MER operative would
be wholly incapable of communicating.
I remember Don crying out from his throne along the wall
opposite the video tripods, “I NEED THOSE GUYS IN THE
BACK ROOM TO GIVE ME THEIR FIX TO THE CARBON
DIXOXIDE FILTER PROBLEM.”
Had Don not been blessed with loud lungs and larynx
physiology, I would have missed that moment in time, a key
element of the Apollo 13 rescue, making a square peg, the
Command Module’s square filters, work in the Lunar Module’s
round CO2 filter holder.
Indeed, the MER’s audio system needed no binocular counterpart
to the video monitors, i.e., an amplifier.
Don’s voice was
amplifier enough.
Again, how different was the MER from the MOCR! Can you
imagine Gene Kranz yelling to the EECOM Sy Liebergot,
“EECOM,
IS IT INSTRUMENTATION OR AN
EXPLOSION?”
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I heard everyone of Gene’s pronouncements though I was a
building away. Gene was not handicapped by the MER audio
system as was Don and our MER team.
Another striking difference in the two rooms was the dress code:
I think among the NASA civil servants, I was one of the few to
wear a tie. Though our colleagues with North American and
Grumman usually wore neckwear, few government servants in
the MER did likewise.
I’m thankful that I threw in with my Grumman and North
American colleagues. The photo taken of me with my paisley
print tie has served me well for the past scores of years. It made
me look like a denizen of the MOCR where ties were in vogue
rather than my tie-less MER associates. (I credit my wife with
this fortuitous event. We had friends whose husbands worked for
IBM. I wanted to look like them for my wife’s sake.)
And so every time I show someone my photo in the MER, I am
careful to crop out almost everything surrounding me, the
overhead tripod monitors, the Playschool™ audio box, the
colleague seated beside me with binoculars resting beside his
brown bag lunch sack, and the tie-less MER-men surrounding
me.
Yet, even then, those who view the photo ask, “Why doesn’t it
look like you are in the MOCR?” And, I pause once more,
wondering if I should lie or make up a story.
But to my
credit, I have always confessed, “It’s not Mission Control. It’s the
MER.”
Then most ask, “What’s that?” And I respond with what you
have just read.
“The MER was not the MOCR.”
* * * * *
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PS: I suppose that many of my recollections are flawed by time.
Please cut me some slack. It’s been almost forty years!
PSS: I found an old photo of our MER team. The Playskool™
audio selector had eighteen channels not nine, and I think there
might have been seven or eight TV tripods instead of six.
However, one thing I was right about. There were few ties or
women present.
My cropped MER photo with
Grumman’s Jim Riorden
Tie-less MER-men but for the bottom-left one
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The MER Playskool™ Audio Box
MER Audio Box Upgrade?
For added information about God’s influence in the manned
exploration of space:
Website: www.spaceacts.com
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