Allen Ferguson of SpaceQuest was expecting him to report at their training facility in Los Angeles the day after his father’s funeral. A mockup Soyuz to train in, along with all the other needed equipment for the mission was on its way. The goal was to launch from Cape Canaveral in thirty days, a very ambitious goal. Gavin informed him from this point on he should no longer communicate with him or the CIA, and wished the best of luck. Peter understood and followed up with his resignation letter emailed directly to the director’s office. He was now on his own, to pull off a miracle mission to the moon, an assignment to restore America’s dignity and his father’s good name. But first he had to lay his father to rest.
As Peter and his mom were putting her favorite tablecloth on the dining room table, his mom blurted, “Peter, I forgot to tell you, Viktor called this morning and said he will make it to the funeral. He also said Dmitri and Anya will be coming too. You remember Anya don’t you?”
Peter grinned, remembering when he last saw Anya in D.C. Seeing her again was a nice thought considering all he had been going through. He was also happy to hear Dmitri would be attending, hoping to get some insight from his friend on the mission. “You mean that little fifteen-year-old girl with braces and acne?”
“I’m sure she doesn’t have those anymore,” his mom said with a wink. “In fact, they sent a Christmas card a few years back with a family picture and from what I remember, she grew up to be a beautiful woman. I think your dad has that card somewhere in his desk. Let me go get it.” Suddenly on a mission, she bolted toward the hallway.
Peter quickly grabbed her arm. “Mom, you don’t have to get it.”
Anne turned with a determined look. “Peter, I want you to see what she looks like. You never know, you might find her interesting. I remember what a sweet girl she was. Besides, I believe she had a crush on you.”
“She’s in her late thirties by now, Mom. She’s probably married.” He couldn’t help throwing out an obstacle knowing his mom was always trying to find the right girl for him. Though she would never tell him what to do, she made it known she thought his playboy days should be over. He sensed with dad now gone, she was desperate for him to finally settle down and start a family.
“No she isn’t—or her family would be in the photo too. Just take a look.”
Peter thought it best not to tell her Anya showed no interest in him when they last met, especially since the idea seemed to be cheering her up. He was curious to see what Anya looked like in the picture anyway, so he told his mom to stay and finish up while he went to his dad’s office.
His mother chirped. “I think it’s in the top right drawer of your father’s desk.”
Peter turned and walked down the dark hallway to the office.
The office door was closed. He had not visited the office since being home. Knowing this was where his father had his heart attack, Peter braced himself as he put his hand on the doorknob and prepared to open the door. Slowly turning the knob, he began to peer inside at his dad’s sanctuary, a place where his dad could get away from it all, to relax, work, or just sit and reminisce. The office was his father’s favorite room. All along the walls, cabinets, and desk were all kinds of mementos, awards, and pictures of his life and career. This was the only room where his dad showcased treasures from his NASA days. Looking around the room was like going down memory lane. Before stepping inside, Peter stood transfixed at the entry, honoring his dad’s legacy. He scanned the entire office taking in the overall magnitude of his life. The room was unexpectedly large for a home office. In the center of the room was a beautiful mahogany desk in front of a large mahogany bookshelf. Two black leather chairs angled toward the desk with a small wooden table between them. One wall was covered with personal photos. Peter hesitated when he came to his dad’s treadmill, imagining that terrible moment. He looked down and saw drops of blood still in the carpet. His mom had already tried to scrub most of it away, but the stain was still noticeable. He shook his head, still amazed his father was gone.
Peter took a deep breath as he walked toward the many pictures on the wall. Pictures of his dad with fellow astronauts, presidents, and even Hollywood stars. One with Viktor and his dad, both in spacesuits, arms around each other, taken in Russia during their training days for the U.S.-USSR mission. Viktor had signed the picture, “Tom, You saved my career! I owe you one… or two… or three… Your friend and comrade, Viktor.” Peter smiled, remembering back when he was a confused young boy wondering why his dad was asking him to lie. Peter had grown to realize he did the right thing, seeing firsthand how his dad put others ahead of himself.
Two frames held mission and name patches, along with the American flag cut from his dad’s space suit worn on each of his missions. Peter looked closely at the frame with the patches worn on the moon, studying those historical artifacts. He could still see moon dust on them which made him wonder how in the hell China could argue such evidence. He shook his head in silence.
Next to these was a picture of Tom standing on the moon in his spacesuit, saluting the American flag. Ever since he was a young boy, Peter loved that picture. His dad told him soon after that picture was taken he wrote Peter’s initials in big letters next to the flag as promised. Staring at the picture, Peter thought how he could actually be orbiting the moon in just a little over a month, the first American in deep space since the moon missions forty years ago. Though he did not know what the exact flight plan would be for his mission, he knew he had to fly over at least one American landing site and take detailed pictures. How cool it would be to fly over his dad’s, and what if the cameras provided were powerful enough to pick up those initials drawn in the lunar dust? How ironic!
He continued down the wall, coming to an enlarged copy of the family picture his dad left on the moon. As Peter looked at this one, he put his hand under his tie and through his buttoned shirt, feeling the locket hanging around his neck. He rubbed the locket between his fingers. Somewhat overwhelmed, he said out loud, “Dad you were a wonderful father. Thank you.” He wiped away a tear that rolled down his face.
More pictures showed military jets his dad flew while in the Air Force. Some he was sitting in, some he was standing by with his helmet to his side. Peter smiled as he looked at these and couldn’t help but think what a handsome man his dad was. Many family friends said Peter looked like his dad, which he always took as a compliment. He came across pictures of planes his dad owned, one a 210 Cessna. Standing in front of the small plane with his dad was Peter when he was eleven years old. His dad had his arm around him, and both wore big smiles. Peter remembered when that picture was taken—the day his dad let him take the controls and actually fly the plane. From that moment on he was hooked and wanted to be a pilot like his dad.
Peter turned around so he was now facing the back side of the desk and pulled out the desk chair. As he sat he looked over the clean desk, empty except for two framed pictures, one of his mom, and his own official NASA photo. He picked up his photo, remembering how proud his dad was when he became an astronaut. His dad told him how jealous he was going to be when he flew in the Shuttle. Sorry that never happened, Dad.