An eerie silence hung over the darkened cabin as Tom double-checked his LOI checklist with a small flashlight. Confident he was ready for the burn, he rubbed the three-day-old stubble on his chin as he looked up at the instrument panel. He patiently waited for code “99,” the signal to fire the engine.
A shaft of bright sunlight gradually lit up the cabin as they exited the moon’s shadow, still on its back side.
Dusty floated to his window and looked out. “Man alive! Check that out, guys.”
Sitting upside down relative to the moon, Tom got his first close-up of the desolate lunar surface. It completely filled up all five windows of the cabin. Long, dark shadows extended for miles off the many gray mountains and crater rims scattered about. Amazed by the sight, he had to pry himself away to focus back on the controls. “Gentlemen, we have a job to do. Let’s get this burn completed before we get carried away with what’s outside our window.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dusty and Kirk floated back to their seats and strapped themselves in.
Tom put his flashlight away. “Dusty, I’m going to want a six-minute mark.” The engine was programmed for a six-minute and thirty-eight-second burn, and Tom wanted to know when they passed the six-minute mark.
Dusty started fiddling with his watch. Even though the vessel had an event timer, the Lunar Module Pilot always seemed to rely more on the stopwatch feature of his Omega watch. “Roger. Do you want a verbal count down?”
“Yes, from ten, so make sure your watch is wound up.”
Dusty chuckled. “I’ve got you covered, Commander.”
“I also want a countdown to engine cutoff.” Tom needed to assure that the engine shut down automatically as scheduled, or he’d manually do it. If the engine was allowed to fire too long, it could send them crashing into the moon, but too short and they’d be in an incorrect orbit.
“Okay.”
The code “99” message flashed. Instantly, Tom called out, “Kirk, ignition.”
Moving quickly and decisively, Kirk pushed in the proceed button. The engine fired. “Ignition!”
“Dusty, start the clock.”
“Clock started.”
A gentle vibration occurred, causing Tom’s body to experience a smooth and steady push into his seat. He kept a close eye on the monitors.
An alarm sounded, catching the crew’s attention.
Dusty reported, “Cryo pressure alarm.”
Unable to get any advice from Houston because they were behind the moon and in Loss of Signal, Tom had to make a call on the alarm. He suspected the cryogenic fluids in the tanks were probably experiencing unnecessary mixing due to the vibration. If this was the cause for the alarm, it wasn’t a problem. He made a calculated decision and said calmly, “Ignore alarm.”
“Roger. Shutting off alarm.”
After a nervous five and half minutes, Dusty called out, “Coming up on six minutes.”
“Roger. Give me a countdown.”
“10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2… mark.”
“How do we look, Kirk?”
“She’s steady. Looking good.”
Dusty chimed in. “Coming up on shutdown. 10, 9…”
Tom positioned his hand, ready to shut the engine off if the computer didn’t do the job.
“3, 2… shutdown.”
Right on the money, the engine stopped. Quiet filled the cabin. Once again, America’s engineering prowess had come through with flying colors. Apollo 16 was in lunar orbit.
Kirk broke the silence. “She looks to be right on the money.”
Tom let out a deep sigh. “Excellent. Good job, men. Now let’s take in the sights.”
TWENTY-FIVE PEOPLE were packed into the Novak home in Nassau Bay, there to support Anne and watch as her husband landed on the moon. Though Anne presented a composed look, deep inside, her stomach churned. Part of her wished the house was empty except for Peter so she could be herself during the landing. She could be free to curl up on the sofa in her pajamas with her son and scream or cry as she wished. But instead, she had to perform hostess duty which added even more pressure. Not only was she playing the role of Mrs. Astronaut along with Mrs. Hostess, she also had to have perfect hair and clothes for the press outside.
The many photographers and reporters surrounding her house had been waiting all day for her to come outside and make a statement. This being her second mission, she knew how to deal with the press. She made up her mind she wasn’t going to address them until Tom had safely completed his first EVA. If she faced the media before then, that would mean something had gone wrong with the landing, a thought she didn’t want to consider.
Anne was in her noisy kitchen with other women who were bustling about preparing appetizers. Anne was putting cold-cuts on a tray.
Poking her head into the refrigerator, Virginia spoke up over the chatter. “Anne, do you think four bottles of Cold Duck is enough?”
“I don’t know. What do you think?”
Before Anne heard the answer, another lady yelled out, “Anne, where are the big bowls for potato chips?”
Anne was about to answer when Peter called out from the living room, “Mom, can I have a cookie? Opa says I can’t.”
Anne’s head was spinning, not knowing who to answer. She felt a hand grip hers. It was Joan with a determined expression on her face, pulling Anne out of the kitchen.
Joan barked out instructions as she walked. “Ladies, please figure out these things on your own. Virginia, let Peter have half a cookie, and tell him that’s it until after dinner.”
Pulling Anne through the throngs of people, Joan led her up the stairs to the sanctuary of her bedroom, locking the door behind them.
Anne wasn’t sure what her best friend was up to. “What’s up?”
“Honey, I know what you’re going through. Remember, I’ve already been through this, and I was a wreck the night David landed.”
Joan turned down the squawk box on the nightstand and snatched the pack of cigarettes and lighter. Anne grabbed an ashtray off the dresser and both ladies met at the center of the bed, sitting side by side. Anne placed the ashtray in between while Joan pulled out a couple of cigarettes, handing one to Anne. She placed the smoke in her mouth and leaned toward Joan for a light.
Taking in a deep puff, Anne instantly felt a calming effect come over her as she put her head back. She savored the feeling for a moment before blowing the smoke toward the ceiling. “So you were a wreck? You seemed so calm.”
Joan lit her cigarette and put the lighter down. “No, I wasn’t calm. In fact, I was the complete opposite, just as I know you are now. You looked like you needed a quiet moment away from everything.”
Anne took in another deep drag. “Thanks for saving me. I did.”
Joan put her hand on top of Anne’s. “Listen, I know you’re scared, just like I was. I can give you some BS that everything will be all right, but you and I both know the risks involved. I just want you to know I will be there for you, no matter what happens. You are my best friend and I love you.”
Anne turned her hand over and squeezed. “That means a lot. Thanks.” Anne looked at the light blue curtains covering her window. “It’s tough when there is nothing you can do. I like listening to the squawk box, but sometimes I’m afraid of what I might hear, like fear in Tom’s voice.”
“Nothing scares that husband of yours.”
Anne smiled. “I guess, but I keep thinking of our friends who became widows. I don’t want that to happen to me. I don’t want Peter to grow up without a father.”
Joan returned the squeeze. “I know.”
THE PURE OXYGEN flowing into Tom’s helmet dried out his tongue, making it difficult to moisten his chapped lips. He and Dusty stood in the Lunar Module in their spacesuits, anchored to the floor by harness straps. Having already separated the LM from the Command Module, Tom was now gearing up for the ultimate test for any pilot, landing on the moon. Once given the Go from mission control, he would arm the descent engine and give Dusty the order to ignite the rocket, sending their ship into a controlled fall toward the moon. Once the engine fired, there would be no turning back, no second chance. Everything had to go right, or they would be forced to abandon the attempt and return to the command module for home. The LM flew face down in a horizontal position, parallel to the moon’s surface, with the engine aimed in the direction of flight. Tom’s body was in that same horizontal alignment with his feet leading the way. He looked down through one of the two small, triangular windows at the barren scene passing by. You don’t intimidate me. We’re on our way.