Rolling over, Tom smiled seeing his friend do some kind of a jig, which looked more like the chicken dance. “That’s one match.”
“Yeah, and who won it?”
Tom licked his lip and tasted blood. “You did. You were due. Good job.” He started to get up.
The celebration continued as David bragged, “Who’s first on the moon and now the handball champ?”
Tom decided to bring his friend back to Earth. “Excuse me, buddy, but what was your title when you landed? If I remember right, wasn’t it the LMP? Doesn’t that stand for Lunar Module Pilot? But yet you never flew the Lunar Module. What’s up with that?”
David raised both hands as if surrendering, but he wasn’t going to let Tom’s dig dilute his joy. “Hey, I was ready and able to save the day if called upon.”
Tom smiled as he approached with an extended hand for a congratulatory handshake. David knew how much Tom really respected the job of the LMP. The Lunar Module Pilot was invaluable during the moon landing, calling out critical data and monitoring the controls when the commander’s focus was outside the spacecraft. No way could the commander land that ship safely without his partner’s help. “I bet you were. Well, yours truly will be landing our LM.”
David clutched Tom’s sweaty hand. “Don’t screw the pooch.”
Tom chuckled. “Not me.”
David pointed to Tom’s mouth. “Buddy, you’re bleeding.”
Tom walked over to the wall, exhausted. He sat and wiped his mouth. “Yeah, I bit my lip.”
David sat next to him. “What in the world were you doing diving for that ball anyway? You could have risked losing your flight.”
“I wanted to win.”
“You don’t want to do anything stupid, especially just before leaving for Kennedy.”
“I’ll have plenty of time to heal during quarantine.”
Both men looked across the court, the sounds of their heavy breathing echoing off the walls.
Panting, David said, “After all the rigorous training leading up to your mission, you’ll find the three weeks in quarantine is a nice break. It was great getting away from everything. The best part for me was the few days spent at the beach house. We had the wives over. It was like a second honeymoon with Joan. We walked on the beach and had some wonderful talks.”
Tom was pleased the couple was doing better. “That does sound nice. It will be good to have some quality time with Anne.”
“Yeah, it definitely helped our relationship.”
Wiping the sweat off his forehead, Tom turned toward his friend. “I’m glad you’ll be our CAPCOM during the moonwalks”
“Me too. I’m there to make sure you don’t mess up.”
Tom got serious. “I think we should have some type of coded way of talking so I can communicate to you exactly how I’m doing without the world knowing.”
David’s expression showed he found this odd. “What in the world would you need that for?”
“I don’t know, but I want to take advantage of our friendship and let you know exactly how things are.”
“Doubt that will be necessary, but alright.”
“How about we have a numbered system set up, from one to ten, that lets you know how bad something might be. If I mention a state followed by my age, the age will be how severe our situation is. For example, if I say, that hill reminds me of the ones I used to see in Michigan when I was eight, that would mean I think our current situation is an eight, so pretty bad.”
David joked, “I don’t think that will work if all is okay and you say you were two years old.”
“Anything less than a five, I will tell you straight out.”
“Got it. What if you say it’s a ten?”
Tom looked across the court for a second. “That means we’re going to die.”
20
SUIT-UP
Already dressed in his spacesuit, minus his bubble helmet and gloves, Tom stood in a hypnotic state, staring blankly at the large metal machine in front of him with its numerous pressure gauges, knobs, and blinking lights. Tom was unfazed by the orchestrated activity going on all around him by the many technicians in the suit-up room. Dressed in their white lab coats and caps, these workers were busy doing the job they had trained months for, helping Tom and his crewmates don and test their spacesuits.
In less than five hours, Tom would be sitting on top of the largest and most powerful rocket ever built, the Saturn V, blasting off to the moon over 200,000 miles away. He was surprised how calm he felt. The space veteran attributed his relaxed composure to the two years of intense training leading up to the mission. He was ready.
“Tom, why don’t you go ahead and sit down now.”
Breaking out of his trance, Tom looked over at the technician. “Will do.” He moved aside the various hoses and wires connecting him to the machine. He cautiously shuffled his feet backward until his yellow protective boot covers hit something solid, signaling he was at the chair. The technician then helped him fall backward.
“I’ll get your gloves and helmet and be right back.”
Nodding toward the technician, Tom moved around slightly so he was comfortable in the lounge. It was only a matter of time before his spacesuit would be pressurized and tested for leaks. If the suit passed, Tom would then breathe pure oxygen within his helmet, purging all the nitrogen from his system to prevent the possibility of the bends setting in. Waiting for the technician to return, Tom adjusted his Snoopy cap so his microphones were positioned just right. He glanced over at his crewmates, who were each being attended to as they lay back in their lounge chairs. The men had intense looks etched deep across their faces. Tom suspected the rookies were nervous, just as he was before his first flight. Hoping to put them at ease, Tom called out, “Hey, Dusty, Kirk.”
Both men looked toward their commander. Tom flashed a thumbs-up sign. A faint smile appeared on their faces as they each returned the gesture. Tom then pointed to the only thing hanging on the white walls, a large poster with a big, yellow smiley face with the caption, Have a nice day!
His crewmates looked up at the silly poster as Tom called out, “Let’s have a nice day.”
Kirk returned a more relaxed smile. “Roger that.”
Settling back in his seat, Tom eyed the bright-red stripe on each of his white spacesuit pant legs. These badges of honor signified he was the commander and responsible for his crewmates’ lives. As he touched one of the stripes, he reaffirmed to himself that he would do everything in his power to make sure the mission was a success and all three would return home safely.
The opening of a door caught Tom’s attention. He saw Dick enter wearing a blue sport shirt and tan pants. His boss carried a couple of packages, one certainly containing his family picture and the metal container he would use to steal the lunar soil. Dick first went over to Kirk, and, after a brief conversation, gave him one of the packages. Dick then worked his way over to Tom.
His boss approached with a big grin. “Is my commander ready for the thrill of a lifetime?”
“Absolutely!”
“Good. I have your family picture.”
Tom was impressed how nonchalant Dick acted as he casually opened the package. With only one hand he pulled out the photo wrapped in plastic, facing it forward so his body blocked the container from behind. Tom questioned if the small cylindrical container was there, considering how easily his boss held the snapshot. If it was, Dick must have practiced the move. Being in a lower, seated position, Tom could see the four-inch-long metal vial when Dick extended his arm. Tom wondered if he would be able to grab both items with one hand. Dropping the cylinder would draw unwanted attention and put the operation in jeopardy. He quickly looked around to establish that no one was paying attention, then reached with both hands and snagged the objects, making sure the container stayed hidden. “Thanks, Dick. Anne is excited to know our family picture will be on the moon for all eternity.”