“Yes. There wasn’t enough time to get any more in. This one will be packed in the storage compartment of Galileo to be used during your EVA at the moon. Of course it’ll need to be transferred over to the Soyuz.”
Peter lifted the upper torso section of the suit, which was a solid, inflexible piece. “Do you think I’ll be able to put this on in the Soyuz?”
“It will be tight, but doable, especially in the new Soyuz model you two will be taking.”
Peter lifted the arm portion of the suit, which was missing the gloves. The newer EMU space suits could be worn by different astronauts with lacing adjustments in the arms and legs to handle each crewman’s individual lengths. The only custom parts were the gloves. “Have the gloves arrived?”
“We received both sets yesterday. I was originally thinking of having you try your suits on tomorrow, but since Omar looks to be done with Viktor, how about we do it now?”
“Cool with me,” said Peter looking forward to trying on his suits.
Allen walked over to the counter across from the lounge chair and picked up a pair of gloves. “Here’re your gloves.” Allen handed them over to Peter. “Can you believe these babies cost $50,000 a pair? Ridiculous.” He shook his head.
Peter grabbed the gloves and stared at them for awhile, wondering how gloves could cost 50 grand. As an astronaut with NASA, he wasn’t privy to how much things cost; however, he knew most items were inflated due to the amount of paperwork and bureaucracy involved, regardless of the fact the item was manufactured by the lowest bidder. From what Peter had learned in the last few weeks, if the United States wanted to be competitive in the space business, relying on America’s commercial enterprise was the only way to go. NASA should stick with what it does best, space exploration of the cosmos.
Allen turned to Omar. “Go ahead and check out Peter in his suits today.”
“Roger, but I’ll need his helmet,” said Omar.
“Where is it?” asked Allen.
“It’s locked in the storage vault.”
“Okay. Unhook Viktor and get it,” said Allen. Omar began turning off the machine and unhooking Viktor’s hoses. Turning to Peter, Allen said, “Okay, I’ll see you two at dinner. I have some other business I need to take care of.” Looking back at Omar, he said, “Let me know if any problems come up,” and out of the room he went.
After Viktor was unhooked, Omar helped him take off his helmet. Once breathing fresh air, Viktor said, “Hello, Peter.”
“Hey, Viktor. So how does the suit feel?”
“Good. Better than old Russian suit. You Americans make better spacesuit.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Peter.
Viktor frowned thoughtfully. “Omar, I think of something. Can I pee in flight suit?”
Omar smiled. “Sure, in the diaper we’ll give you.”
That didn’t seem to be the answer Viktor was looking for. With a disappointed look he asked, “No, can I go to toilet to pee?”
Omar shook his head, clearly puzzled. “Sorry Viktor. Once we put the suit on, it’s a major deal to take it off. But like I said, we’ll supply you with MAGs.”
Now Peter was curious. Hoping to add some humor and relax him, Peter said, “And that’s not MAGs for magazines to read on the toilet. That’s MAGs for maximum absorbency garments, or in other words, diaper. It’s probably the same type of diaper you wore as a cosmonaut. The nice thing is, now that you’re an old man, no need to be running to the restroom all the time. Just pee in those fancy NASA diapers.”
Viktor didn’t smile at Peter’s joke, though Omar laughed. Peter assumed he probably didn’t get it.
Viktor shrugged. “Soviet flight suit had access for pee. I guess I work it out.”
Peter and Omar gave each other questioning looks. Maybe it was an old man thing.
Omar excused himself to retrieve the helmet. Before exiting he said, “Viktor, you just relax and I’ll help you get out of your suit when I get back.”
After Omar left, Viktor asked, “Everything okay in Texas?”
Peter sat in the lounge chair next to Viktor and clasped his hands. His partner knew he was going to see Anya and visit his mom for the last time. What he didn’t know was the possibility of ending the relationship with Anya. He needed to be up front with his partner, so he said, “It was a tough twenty-four hours. Not only did I say goodbye to Mom for the last time, I also broke up with Anya.”
Viktor nodded. “I know. Anya call me in morning tell me. She very upset.”
“Viktor, I did it because I love her. It was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. I hated it. But as long as she doesn’t know the true outcome of the mission, I feel it’s for the best. Besides, even if she knew I was going to die, I believe both of us leaving her would be too traumatic. Bottom-line, I am trying to prevent her from being hurt even more.” Peter put his head down, trying to find something positive in his action before saying, “This allows me to be totally focused on the mission.”
Viktor looked straight ahead for moment before turning back. “I love Anya too. Maybe be best.”
22
GOING BACK
SpaceQuest’s senior team was gathered in the conference room in the operations and check out building. The room was elegantly decorated with beautiful pictures of past rockets launched from Cape Canaveral, including the Saturn V that took Peter’s dad to the moon. The team was meeting for the final launch check-out, reviewing complete mission requirements and the final checklist to insure the team and rocket were ready for launch. The Newton 9 had already been transferred over to the pad, erected and patiently waiting for its June 28 launch, just three days away. If all checked out okay in this meeting, the countdown would begin. Sitting at the head of the table was Allen. Next to him on his right were Peter and Viktor and, across from them sat Bud, the launch director, and Bernie, the flight director.
Allen wanted everything cleared in this meeting before he would give the official go for launch, allowing Bernie to fly back to California and get Mission Control ready for the flight. His team would take over responsibility of the spacecraft from Bud’s team once the rocket cleared the tower, flying it to within fifty meters of the space station before passing control to Peter.
Sitting on the conference table in front of Allen was an odd looking piece of equipment with blinking red lights.
“What’s that?” asked Peter.
“That’s your bomb,” answered Allen with a grin. “Or should I say, fake bomb. I had Engineering put it together. The plan is to have some fake C-4 explosives on the floor of the capsule with this detonator hooked up to it. Looks pretty impressive, huh?” Allen proudly slid the detonator over to Peter.
Peter was surprised how light the contraption was when he picked it up. “Anything inside?”
“Nope, just one AAA battery. It’s all about appearance. On the back you’ll find a very small switch. Move it.” Allen gestured to flip a switch, still grinning.
Peter put his hand around the back, locating the switch and flipping it. The blinking red lights switched to blinking green.
“You just armed the bomb,” chuckled Allen. “You’ll have to set the timer before docking with the station. You can have the ISS commander peek inside the capsule if he insists on seeing it. Tell him the bomb was set when you docked and is scheduled to blow in thirty hours, unless you disarm it. Stress to him it’s designed to go off if tampered with. Obviously, if they mess with it they’ll immediately know it’s a fake. I doubt you’ll have any issues since the crew doesn’t want a bomb going off in a capsule docked to the space station. The code name for the bomb is Red Baseball.”
Perplexed, Peter asked, “Why Red Baseball?”