Paul Gillebaard - USSR Hoax

Raising his hand, Dick cut Tom off. “I know, and you could do it over and over again. I’ve already heard the joke from the Apollo 13 guys.”

Surprised someone else had come up with the suggestion, Tom thought it was amusing it was Apollo 13 since the crew was almost lost. “Women’s libbers would have had a field day if their lunar module had been called Eve. I can hear it now, ‘Leave it to a spacecraft named after a woman to save the three macho astronauts returning from the moon.’”

Dick pressed his lips together. “Mmm, that would have been pretty funny.” His eyes suddenly narrowed as all humor drained from his face. A cold silence hung over them for a second before Dick slowly rose and walked across the room and locked his door.

Tom assumed his boss was going to go over how the lunar sample was going to be snatched from his flight.

Instead of returning to his chair, Dick stopped at the front of his desk, positioning himself so he was right across from Tom. His boss leaned back against the desk. An edge of anxiety crept into his voice as he said, just above a whisper, “We have a problem. The special adapter you were going to use to get the lunar sample was never built. This information somehow got lost through channels, and it was never relayed back to me that there were any issues. Apparently, someone above me was concerned too many people would need to be involved to develop the part, increasing the chances of the hoax leaking out. That means our only option is for you to scoop up the lunar material into a metal container yourself, which will be a trick to do without Dusty or the television camera seeing it.” Dick crossed his arms. “So, do you have any idea how to pull that off?”

“That will be a challenge.” The original plan was to have the special adaptor fit on the end of the core sampling tool, which Tom was secretly going to use to scoop up lunar material when he wrote Peter’s initials in the moon’s soil. Without that tool, it would be practically impossible to snag a lunar soil sample without being noticed. Every move they would make on the moon was going to be monitored by an RCA color camera mounted on the rover. This TV camera, nicknamed the Big Eye, would be operated mostly by mission control during all three of their EVAs. If Tom deviated from their strictly choreographed timeline of activities in order to snag an unplanned lunar sample, especially putting it in an unknown container, he would certainly be caught by the camera and questioned. An idea popped into his head. “I’ve got it.”

Dick perked up. “Good. Let’s hear it.”

“At the end of the last EVA, when Dusty is back in the LM, I have to drive the rover and position it so mission control can film our launch, right?”

“Yes, but that camera will be trained right on you walking back to the Lunar Module. It will definitely see you lean over to get a sample.”

“True, but what if I snatch the sample when the camera is aimed away from me? When I do a U-turn and point the rover back toward the LM, I can ask mission control if it’s a good spot. When the camera turns away, it should be in that position for awhile, focusing on the spacecraft. Before the camera turns back around I should be able to scoop up the sample behind the rover, out of view. If the camera turns early, since the rover will be blocking what I’m doing on the lunar surface, I’ll say I’m examining an interesting rock. If that happens, I’ll simply slip the container into my pocket along with some random rock before getting up. Just to make sure I’m not seen doing any of this, I’ll have my back to the camera when I stand up.”

Dick rubbed his chin. “That sounds like it could work, but what concerns me is it will be during the last EVA. What if it is cancelled?”

“If that happens, I’ll come up with something on the fly. This is my best opportunity to be out of sight of both Dusty and the camera.”

Tapping his fingers on his desk, Dick looked past Tom, clearly weighing all the possibilities. “Okay, let’s go with that. I’ll pass over the container to you in the suit-up room, doing it so I’m not seen.”

“Perfect, you can hide it under my family picture, which I believe I’ll be getting sometime prior to boarding.” Management had approved Tom leaving the picture on the lunar surface, which he wanted to do to honor his family. He had already turned it in as instructed so it could be officially cleared and stamped. It was to be wrapped in a special clear baggie.

Dick said, “Good idea. That’s how I’ll do it. Then let’s plan on you passing the container directly back to me on the recovery ship.”

“Got it.”

Dick put his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “As commander, I know you have a lot on your plate, and snagging that sample is just one more thing you have to worry about. But you don’t want to screw this up. There is no way we can attempt this on 17. If you fail, there is no telling what the Soviets will do.” Dick leaned in. “But most importantly, don’t get caught.”

Tom understood the consequences, and failure was not an option.

SWEAT RAN PROFUSELY down Tom’s face as he struggled to catch his breath. He looked behind him and saw David bent over, looking just as winded. His friend was slowly bouncing the small blue ball, stalling his serve. David was one point away from finally beating Tom at handball, which he hadn’t done in months. With this being the last time they would play until Tom returned from the moon, it was obvious his friend was going to do whatever he could to win.

Impatiently Tom called out, “Come on, serve it!”

Grabbing the ball, David flashed a cocky grin. “Time for you to go down, buddy.”

“Yeah, we’ll see. Serve.”

Pulling his arm back, David threw the ball down one last time. Every muscle in his body flexed as he powered through the serve. Tom turned to get into position for the rebound. A loud swooshing sound made Tom flinch as the ball zoomed within inches of his ear. The serve hit perfectly in the corner of the front wall. Tom raced over to where the ball was going, but quickly realized his angle was wrong. The ball was going to hit a second wall. His miscalculation meant his only chance of reaching the ball was sacrificing his body and diving. Not thinking and determined to win, he powered off both legs, outstretching his right arm in hopes of getting just a couple of fingers on the ball. For a split second he thought he was going to make it before reality set in and his body came crashing down hard on the court, his head slamming against the ground. Game and match to David.

Wincing in pain, Tom heard David celebrating behind him. “Yes, that’s what I’m talking about. There’s a new sheriff in town.”

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.”