Peter peered back over at Viktor, who was now snoring. Looking back at Omar he said, “I just went. Thanks.”
While Omar walked over to Viktor to ask the same, Peter glanced at his flight suit and helmet lying on the table in front of him. He reached for his Dad’s locket around his neck and rubbed it. I’m ready for this, Dad. Focusing on the plain white walls surrounding him, he realized he had never done anything to spice up the area. He couldn’t have his last room on Earth look so bland and depressing. Looking over and seeing Omar struggling to wake Viktor, Peter decided he had some time to hustle down to the conference room and grab the picture of his dad’s rocket, perfect to set on the counter next to him. He quickly got up. “Omar, I’ll be right back.” Before Omar could ask where he was going, Peter was out the door.
The conference room was empty as Peter walked in. He knew exactly where his dad’s picture was, but instead of going right to it, he took a moment to examine each picture leading up to it. Below each picture was a brass engraving plate stating the mission and when it was launched. Peter reviewed each rocket, thinking of those who flew, many of whom he knew. All of them were pioneers, and in his mind, heroes. He was finally going to join the club. In fact, if all went to plan, he would join the exclusive club of those who flew to the moon.
Soon he reached his dad’s picture. He stared at the picture for a moment, putting his hand to the glass over the Saturn V rocket as if touching it. He couldn’t believe his dad flew that rocket to the moon almost forty years ago. He remembered that day at Cape Kennedy. Both he and his mom sat in the VIP seating area when his dad blasted off. As a seven-year-old boy, he remembered being excited about the day and all the special attention he was getting. But the moment most etched in his mind was being rocked by the sudden harsh, Chinese-firecracker staccato sound that followed the first few seconds of pure silence as he watched his dad’s rocket lift. A sound so fierce and surprising, it scared him to the point he grabbed his mom’s hand with both of his. That boom was a sound he would never forget. Dad… did you ever know how much that scared me? Thank God Mom was there.
As he removed the picture, out of the corner of his eye he saw Viktor walk past the conference doorway. Where’s he going? The restrooms are the other way. The only thing in that direction was the doorway out to the van that would take them to the rocket. Curious, Peter gently set the picture down and followed where Viktor went. When he walked outside, he saw Viktor’s body through the van’s window standing on the other side facing the back right tire. That was odd. What in the world is that old man up to? A few workers mingled around the area, but none seem to be paying any attention to Viktor. Peter walked around the van, and to his shock, saw Viktor peeing on the back tire.
First double-checking to make sure no one noticed what the old man was doing, Peter asked, “Viktor, what the hell are you doing?”
Viktor casually looked up and said as he continued peeing, “It tradition. All cosmonauts urinate on right back tire of bus that take us to rocket. We do it when get to rocket, but flight suits not have access, so I do it now.”
Peter laughed out loud. “Ahhh, that’s why you were quizzing Omar about being able to pee after being dressed. How in the world did that become a tradition?”
“Yuri Gagarin do on first space flight. Since he have good mission, we make it tradition. I don’t break tradition.”
“Well move over, I don’t want to break tradition either.” He too started urinating on the tire, ignoring the workers who now noticed what they were doing.
As the two finished, Viktor turned. “Peter, I like take vodka on flight.”
“Is that tradition too?”
“Yes, to drink at landing after mission, but we not return. I like drink to celebrate our success at moon.”
Allen would not go for this, and having already seen him pissed, Peter said, “Allen might have issues with that.”
“Is he going to die on mission? No! You and I are! I ask you because you commander.”
Peter thought for a minute. “You’re right. Besides, I’m sure I would love to have a few shots once we finish our assignment floating around the moon. I have a plastic bottle that would work perfect. I’ll get it, and you can pour the vodka into it. Allen doesn’t need to know.”
Viktor smiled saying, “Spaseeba,” which Peter knew meant thank you.
PRESIDENT EDWARDS WAS WORRIED as he sat looking out the window in the oval office. America’s only opportunity to alter the world’s recent belief that the United States never landed on the moon rested on two brave men launching on a secret mission later that day, a mission to prove China wrong and stop the balance of power from being shifted. It was an aggressive move he approved of and one he hoped wouldn’t backfire. He’d called in Doug Rose and Jack Dawson to review the mission one last time before leaving for the sanity of Camp David. “What time is the launch scheduled for?”
“3:08 p.m., sir,” said Doug.
“How’s the weather look?”
“The forecast is for clouds but no thunderstorms, nothing to prevent the launch. My last conversation with Allen was everything was a go.”
“And your man is still confident he can pull this off?” asked the president as he rubbed his hands together.
“He still has it at over 90 percent, and considering all the variables involved, I consider that very high,” said Doug looking a little fidgety, as if he was concerned the mission might be cancelled.
“Good, because the Chinese yuan is starting to kick our ass and public opinion is swaying heavily toward China on everything, especially economic issues, because of their lies. America is being treated like some second class country. I want to nip this in the bud now!”
“Yes, sir,” Doug said.
“Not surprising,” the president went on, “China is not buying our official response that SpaceQuest will not fire off that rocket. They have been all over the UN, even trying to intimidate this office. I sent a formal letter to China a couple of days ago informing them that we have been assured the private company that owns the rocket will not launch.” The president took a moment before saying, “We have one shot at this and we better get it right.”
Jack Dawson chimed in. “We will, sir. If Peter says he is confident the mission will succeed, I’m sure it will.”
“Does China still have their rocket sitting on the launch pad?” asked the president.
Jack answered, “Yes, sir, but fortunately they haven’t fueled it yet. So until they do, we should have some time on our side.”
Doug added, “Our boys have worked hard training to modify the Soyuz in less than the forty-eight-hour time frame you requested. In fact, they may even be able to handle the job in one spacewalk and be out of there in thirty-six hours, definitely giving them the head start they need.”
“Great. I plan on leaving for Camp David shortly. I want to be there once the shit hits the fan. I’m scheduled to be there through the Fourth of July. When this goes public I want to be slow to respond, and being in Camp David will make this more plausible. I will eventually return to the White House due to the crisis and address the media in full detail, probably Monday. I expect our men to be on their way in the Soyuz by then. When should we expect to get pictures and video of our landing sites?”
“Once they leave the ISS, four days. So we could start receiving pictures as early as the fourth,” Doug said.
“How ironic and appropriate.” The president put his hand to his chin, lightly rubbing it. “How about the detailed pictures taken from outside the spacecraft?”