Before Mission Control responded, his capsule crashed into the space station on his monitor. He shook his head in disgust before seeing big bold letters on his monitor. “You just crashed into the space station… ouch!”
Peter pursed his lips and exhaled in frustration. A thruster must have malfunctioned and possibly if he had not taken his eye off target, he might have had time to correct his position before spinning out of control. He was better than that.
“Nice try, Peter,” said the radio. “Just a moment and we’ll get you out of there. We need to make molds of your hands and then Allen wants to talk with you in his office.”
“Roger,” said Peter. I’m sure he didn’t like what he saw. I better come up with something to prove to him I’m still his man. Damn!
“SO YOU CRASHED into the space station. Not only did you damage a $100 billion piece of equipment, you pissed off a bunch of countries who own that damn thing. And keep in mind, SpaceQuest’s logo is on that capsule you just crashed.” Allen sounded facetious as he sat behind his desk.
“Sorry about that, boss. However, after SpaceQuest training, it won’t happen again.” Peter lounged in his chair, deliberately injecting confidence into his voice.
“I sure hope so,” said Allen his tone softening. He grew serious. “Peter, my responsibility is to get you into space and docked to the space station. And to be blunt, that’s really all I care about. I want to make sure you’re prepared to handle any problems that might occur when docking. Seeing you crash into the space station was not encouraging. I want you to spend a good chunk of your time in that simulator, so you’re prepared for anything that could go wrong. We’re not going to spend much time training for the launch. I’m confident we’ll get you two into orbit. All you have to do is sit back and enjoy the ride. We don’t have time to go over emergency launch procedures if anything should go wrong. The way I look at it, you signed up for a suicide mission; therefore, we are not going to invest precious training time on emergency procedures to save your ass. I want your training split between docking with the space station and learning the procedures needed to get you to the moon.”
Peter understood where Allen was coming from. If he failed to dock with the ISS, SpaceQuest’s future would be in jeopardy. However if they were successful, Allen could virtually write his own ticket in the space business. Bottom-line, it was obvious nothing meant more to Allen than SpaceQuest, and he was not shy in expressing it.
Allen leaned over the side of his chair, picked up a four-inch-thick manual off the floor and plopped it on his desk. “Here is some nighttime reading for you. This is the manual for the Galileo.” He picked up another manual, this one five inches thick, and plopped it on top. “Here is the manual on the Soyuz.” He picked up the final manual and threw it on top of the other two; Peter was happy to see it was only two inches thick. “And here is your Mission Procedure Manual. As you can see, there is a lot to learn in a very short time.”
Peter had been in similar situations as a SID agent where there was a ton of information he needed to learn in short order. Dealing with such situations was part of his CIA training.
He was not intimidated by the large manuals put before him. He would be prepared. However, he needed to put Allen at ease. “With SpaceQuest’s help, I’m confident we’ll succeed. No doubt there is a lot to learn in a short time, but fortunately I have Viktor on board, who knows the Soyuz. Most of my focus will be on mission procedures and docking the Galileo.”
“Good. One question—I read through the mission procedures and noticed some discussion on a laser and disengaging it. The manual did not give many details on how. Do you know how?”
“I’m familiar with the laser, but not an expert. We need to get a hold of Rob Foster of Byington Corporation in England. He’s the design engineer and can answer all our questions.”
“Okay, I’ll discuss the urgency with Doug Rose and see what he can do. So, no more crashing my spacecraft into the space station, right?” Allen smirked.
“Nope, I’ve got that out of my system, boss.”
15
VIKTOR ALEXANDROV
Viktor drove up to the large entrance gate to Star City, the heart of the Soviet and Russian space programs and his past home when he was a young cosmonaut. Two young guards toting AK-47 rifles immediately approached each side of the car. The one on the driver’s side gave a cold stare as he leaned in and grabbed Viktor’s ID. He quickly straightened to attention and saluted before respectfully giving the ID back. He announced Viktor in Russian and yelled to open the gate. Viktor saluted the soldier, wondering if the young man knew of his accomplishments or if he was simply passing him through because he had the same surname as the assistant director of the FKA. Viktor smiled, happy to be getting in.
Viktor was visiting the base to perform a traditional cosmonaut ritual of asking Yuri Gagarin for his guidance and blessing in his preserved office, now part of a museum. It was the same ritual he had carried out before all of his previous space flights.
Ever since Viktor arrived in Russia the day before, he had been busy getting his estate in order and his visa revised. This was his last stop before heading to the airport to fly back to the States to meet up with Peter in California. As Viktor drove the short distance to the Training Center, he remembered that terrible day when he heard of Yuri’s senseless death. Yuri was admired by all his comrades, especially after his historical mission as the first man ever in space. Viktor was stunned when he learned his mentor, the indestructible Yuri, died during a routine training flight in a MiG-15. From that moment on, no exercise or assignment was ever routine to Viktor. He took each one seriously.
Viktor took a deep breath before walking into Yuri’s office. He had already confirmed there were no tours scheduled for the day. He slowly opened the door and peered tentatively in. He was pleased to see the empty office just as it was during his last visit over thirty years ago before his final mission. He walked up to a red velvet rope divider surrounding Gagarin’s desk and passed under it. The office still had an old ’60s feel, including a musty smell. Visiting this room was like stepping back in time, and a flood of memories started pouring through his head. Amid the nostalgia, the realization he was spending his last moments in his home country hit him. A grim smile crossed his lips.
Viktor sensed himself moving to Gagarin’s desk in a trance and sat at the adjacent table, reflecting on his many visits. He had only fond memories of the room. On the table was the log book all cosmonauts wrote in before their missions, some just signing, others leaving a brief note. The same log book he had signed years ago. The old and slightly tattered book looked its age. Gathering himself, he carefully opened the tome and found the page he had signed in 1975 before his first mission.
Lead me to honor my country and family, Viktor Alexandrov.