Paul Gillebaard - USSR Hoax

Viktor stood and shook the man’s hand, surprised that was all he was questioned on. “Thank you, sir.”

Bending at the waist, Tom was trying to stretch out his back after sleeping on a rock-hard bed the night before. The Michoud folks always put the NASA visitors up in the same dumpy old motel, the only place to stay within thirty miles of the facility. When Tom informed Anne he wasn’t coming home, she jokingly asked if he planned on enjoying the night life. What night life? She knew how boring the place was. He simply answered that he might have a couple of beers with some squirrels before hitting the sack.

The Director of Assembly turned to Tom. “Back problems?”

Tom straightened up. “I’m fine.”

Both Tom and the director stood behind a Marshall engineer who had half his body extended inside the F-1 engine, looking for the stamped lettering. Tom had alerted the shop floor manager about his findings after the morning meeting. The busy manager had no idea what Tom was talking about and had directed him to the Director of Assembly, who seemed interested.

The engineer called out, “I don’t see it.”

Tom positioned himself so he could help guide the young man. “Do you see the main fuel valve?”

The engineer’s legs shifted slightly. “Yeah, I see that.”

“Look to the right, underneath the HP oxidizer duct. In fact, just place your forehead up against that duct and you should see it right in front of you.”

After some further movements, the engineer’s voice shot up. “Oh, I see it. Wow, that’s odd.”

After both men had inspected both engines, Tom asked, “So what do you think it is?”

The director’s voice was direct. “It’s something I’ve never seen before, and I doubt anyone with Marshall or any of the contractors have ever seen it.” The man took off his glasses and locked eyes on Tom. “You need to take this up with the Canoga Park folks. This happened on their end.”

The engineer, standing behind the director, nodded in agreement as he adjusted his tie.

Tom wasn’t surprised he was being pointed toward the engine’s manufacturer, but he hoped someone here could have shed some light on the mystery. He figured since the piping covered the part, no one at the plant had ever seen the markings. Since neither man seemed too concerned with the findings, Tom doubted either one of them would do anything with the information. Marshall was on a tight schedule to get the stages completed. The last thing they needed was odd etchings holding up production.

Earlier Tom had snagged one of the NASA-issued Polaroid cameras in hopes of getting some photos. He had a meeting scheduled later that day with Dick and wanted to show the pictures to get his take. “Do either of you mind if I take pictures of the markings?”

The director spoke frankly as he headed down the stairs, “Knock yourself out.”

“HAVE A SEAT, Tom.”

Dick had a peculiar look on his face as Tom entered the office, possibly a sign good news was coming. He confidently took a seat across from his boss.

Leaning forward, Dick put both arms on his desk. “So I have some good news.”

Tom straightened up. “Oh?”

“You are no longer grounded, so no more escorts when flying.”

Happy to hear the news, Tom anticipated Dick was going to follow that up with information on his next crew assignment. Tom waited a beat before answering, “That’s great, because some of those guys made me nervous.”

His boss raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

Tom didn’t want to get into it. He cared more about his next assignment. “Actually just one, Chris Riddick.”

“Did anything happen?”

Though Tom should have spoken up, he elected to keep his promise. “No. Just be aware he might need more flight training.”

“Okay, duly noted.”

Tom couldn’t contain himself. “So, will I be assigned a mission now that I’m cleared?”

Dick stared at Tom, as if contemplating the idea. “Right now, I’m going to hold off on that. Besides, most of the assignments have been given out. I’ll consider it when new ones become available.”

Tom slumped back in the chair at the news. At least he was back in the game.

“So how is everything going in New Orleans?”

Slightly dejected, Tom reached into his shirt pocket for the snapshots. He had already sorted through them, picking out the best ones for Dick. He left the remaining ones in his briefcase. “I thought you might be interested in seeing these photos.” Tom leaned over, plopping them on the desk.

Dick tilted an eyebrow as he took the pictures. “What are these?”

“I was investigating plumbing issues inside the F-1 engines, and while looking, I came across these odd markings. I checked with the Marshall folks, but no one had any idea what the markings were. In fact, they had never seen them before.”

Dick went through them slowly, pausing at one, a bewildered look on his face. “One of these shows only grinding marks.”

“Yeah, one engine had that in the same location as the mysterious lettering I found in the other engine. It’s as if the markings were supposed to have been ground out.”

Dick raised his eyes over the picture. “Was Marshall going to have this investigated?”

“I don’t think so. They’re on a tight schedule and I doubt they’ll do anything with the information. They directed me to the engine manufacturer.”

Dick shot him a puzzled look before shuffling through the photos again. “These markings do look strange and out of place. I’ll pass this on and see what I can find out.”

“Great, please let me know what you hear.”

Dick set the pictures down. “Will do. There’s one more thing. Tomorrow night is the Governor’s Ball in Austin and I would like you there. I’ve requested other astronauts to attend as well.”

Tom was hoping to have a relaxing weekend with the family. “Can I bring Anne?”

“Absolutely. In fact, I’ll have a room booked for you for the night. It’s a first-class hotel, so it should be a nice little getaway.”

“That would be great, especially after dealing with the shoddy accommodations in New Orleans.”

Dick leaned back in his chair, his voice staying steady. “They don’t take good care of you in Louisiana? Haven’t you been getting out and enjoying the nightlife?”

Tom leaned forward, placing both hands on the desk. “Are you serious? There’s never time for any nightlife fun, just dinner and bed. They usually put me in some rundown motel about a mile from the plant. The closest nice hotel is over thirty minutes away.”

“I’m sure the accommodations aren’t that bad.”

“Yeah, if you consider knobs falling off the television as being nice.”

Dick chuckled as he stood up. “Sounds like you don’t have time to watch TV anyway.”

Assuming Dick had somewhere to go, Tom got up. “Did you see the news last night?”

“Nope, I didn’t get out of here until after ten. Why?”

Both men walked toward the doorway before Tom stopped shy of the exit. “The North Vietnamese were showcasing a POW, some type of propaganda ploy. What was amazing was the POW used his eyes to blink out torture in Morse code while answering questions.”

“Really? Good for him. That’s some hero.”

“I agree. Men like that are the real heroes of this country, more so than us astronauts.”

Dick put his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Tom, you have to remember we are in a Cold War with the Soviets, and those bastards are backing the North Vietnamese. So in a way, we’re all fighting the same fight. If we’re successful in beating the Soviets to the moon, we’ll have a great chance to win the Cold War and wipe out Communism. Men like you, risking your lives to help achieve that goal, are heroes too.”