“Before put helmet on and pressure test suit, please walk around, let’s see all okay.”
Peter nodded and started to get up out of the chair. Seeing he was struggling, the suit technician reached down and helped him up. Once standing, Peter first started moving his arms around. He then rotated his body from side to side. He felt like the robot from Lost In Space as he continued moving his arms. “Danger, danger, Will Robinson.”
The suit tech gave him a questioning look. “Be there a problem?”
Peter smiled. He had to remind himself he was with the Russians. “Sorry, everything’s fine. Just an old American television show.”
Peter was expecting a heavy, bulky suit, but was amazed as he started to walk around. For a forty-year-old design, the suit was surprisingly light. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a distant, familiar image. He turned to see a full-length mirror about twenty feet away. Chills ran down his body as he stared. The Skylab suit was basically the same as Apollo’s. It was as if he was looking back in time at his dad. How do I look, Dad? At this distance, he was unable to read the mission patch or name, but there was no mistaking the big American flag on his arm. The stars and stripes stood out proudly on the white spacesuit. A sense of pride came over him as he walked toward the mirror. Soon he was able to read Robinson. His smile widened when he saw the triangular light blue mission patch with its big number three plastered off center signifying they were the third and final crew to visit the Skylab space station. He remembered his dad teasing Dusty, insisting they should have put the number four since it was actually the fourth rocket in the Skylab program. The first rocket was the massive Saturn V that put the unmanned station into space. Three smaller Saturn 1B rockets followed with the crews. Some of the press initially labeled those rockets as two, three and four, causing confusion over the correct designation for years.
“How she feel?”
Peter turned. “Oh, feels great.”
The technician pointed back to his seat. “Good. Time we pressure test it.”
As they started back, Dmitri entered the room and came right toward them. Dmitri’s eyes widened as he approached. “Wow, you look just like your dad.”
Peter stopped. “I know, I thought the same thing.”
Dmitri shook his head. “Amazing. So how does it feel?”
“Great. Fits perfect.”
“Good.” Dmitri began to reach into his pocket. “I have something for you.” He pulled out a picture.
Peter opened his gloved hand to receive it. Dmitri placed a picture of Anya in the center.
“She asked me to give this to you. She doesn’t want you to forget her.”
No way was Peter going to forget the love of his life. He gazed at the picture. Anya’s beautiful face was outlined by her gorgeous jet-black hair, which flowed over a formal purple dress.
“It was taken at my wedding. I had it on my desk.” Dmitri motioned to the picture. “I had Velcro put on the back.”
Peter was happy to have her along for the ride.
7
“SAVE US!”
Sitting in the commander’s center seat of the tight Soyuz, Alex was meticulously going through the many system checks required to prepare their ship for launch. Peter had finished his system checks in the left co-pilot seat and was now reviewing the binder that explained the re-entry procedures needed to bring Galileo home. He was far from being an expert on the operation since the moon mission did not require returning the craft. Only if they had an emergency during launch would he have had to immediately turn back and return to Earth. As a result, he had limited training at SpaceQuest on the process. He needed to take advantage of every spare moment. Peter felt a nudge on his leg. Lying on his back with his legs strapped in so his feet were up to his butt, he tried to lift his head to see his partner. Regrettably the Skylab helmet did not rotate, and even with his visor up he could not see Alex over the parachutes stuffed around them.
“Mission control now do their checks. We have moment of peace. You should take advantage. Not much time to rest later.”
Peter set the Galileo manual on his stomach. The countdown clock on his computer screen showed they had a little over an hour before launch. It was tough to relax knowing every passing minute was inching the stranded cosmonauts closer to death. Nevertheless, orbital mechanics could not be manipulated. They had no choice but to wait until they were in the International Space Station’s exact orbit before launching, which happened only twice a day, allowing for a mere five-minute window each time. Though waiting was making him anxious, Alex was probably right. It might be his only time to rest, and a mental break would probably do him good. They had been working nonstop since boarding. Peter saw Alex’s arm extend upward as he hung a small colorful stuffed bear off a knob on the control panel above them. Peter smiled as Alex lightly spun the suspended toy.
“My son give me. It tell when we in space.”
“How old is your son?”
“Mikhail seventeen. On my first mission he five. He pick out toy for me. He do for all my missions. Be our tradition and bring me luck.”
“Do you have any other kids?”
“I have four. Mikhail is youngest, then son 19, daughter 22 and son 24.”
“Wow, big family.”
“Yes. Keep wife busy. You have kids?”
A sinking sensation stung at Peter as he thought of Anya and the baby. “No, but maybe someday.” Peter reached down to a Velcro closed pocket on his spacesuit leg and ripped it open. With his gloved hand, he fiddled around until he found what he was looking for, Anya’s picture. He pulled it out and looked at it for a while. He thought back to the last time he was in a Soyuz with her picture. Then he had been certain he would die. He thanked God for saving him. He spotted some Velcro on the spacecraft wall to his left, but instead elected to attach the picture to a clip on the control panel in front of him.
“She pretty. Is that not Viktor’s daughter?”
Peter proudly smiled as he stared at the picture. “It is.”
“Dmitri tell me of you two. She good kid. You lucky. Viktor work with your dad on US/USSR mission of ’70s, yes?”
Peter relaxed his neck muscles allowing his head to fall back against the back of his helmet. “They did. Dad was backup. That is how I got to know Dmitri. He and I became childhood friends while playing at Star City over a summer when our dads trained together.”
“I sorry your dad pass away. He was great astronaut, and thanks to you, the world knows he walk on moon.”
Peter smiled as the image of his initials carved in the lunar dust flashed through his mind. “Thanks. He was also a great father.”
“I saw your suit say Robinson. Is that same astronaut who walk on moon with your dad?”
“It is.”
“I shut my eyes now.”
Peter smiled. With the muffled noise of the rocket breathing outside, he calmly closed his eyes and drifted off.
Peter was a small boy as he tried to hold on as his body slid side to side across the black leather passenger seat of the 1972 silver convertible Corvette. This was Peter’s first time riding in the new car as his dad raced Dusty Robinson in his matching Vette down NASA 1. All three members of his dad’s crew received identical cars from the local dealer, the only differences being the color of the stripe on each hood and their official abbreviation of their crew position painted just under the doorknob. His dad’s had CDR for commander and a blue stripe.
With the top and all the windows down, Peter was getting the full experience of raw speed as the erratic wind blew wildly inside the car, and he loved it. The seven-year-old curled both hands on the top of the door and lifted up as far as the lap belt would allow so he could see over at his dad’s partner speeding next to them. The late afternoon sun shone off the shiny car with its red stripe. Dusty was laughing as he did a cocky wave before making a daring move, cutting off Peter’s father. “Dad, catch him!”