Authors: Tom Horneman
The
Intrepid's crew was getting unstrapped and moving around the cabin. Helmets came
off and everyone breathed a little easier. The takeoffs were always tense.
From
now to the end of the mission, everything would be mostly
routine
.
The lander crew would do their job on the surface and the shuttle crew would
accomplish experiments while orbiting, waiting for them to return.
Four
hours into the mission, the two shuttles passed within twenty thousand meters,
which was relatively close in space terms. Colonel Larry Songer, oldest of all
the shuttle commanders and about six years away from retirement, was the head
honcho on Pioneer. He had been on more space missions than any astronaut in the
history of NASA. He had many achievements under his belt: top grad from the Air
force Academy, one of the design engineers for the orbiting space station, a
hell of a fighter pilot, and was also the first black shuttle Commander.
Described as a good ol’ boy from Fort Worth, Texas, Larry had a sense of humor
that made everyone tell him he should have been a comedian instead of an
astronaut. Everybody liked Larry.
“Pioneer
to Intrepid, do you copy?”
“Hello,
Larry,” Janet responded. “Boy, some people will do anything to get back from a
mission early. I hear you had a few sparks flying around the computer bay.”
“Yeah,
but it's really not too bad. Nothin’ them avionics boys can’t fix. Say, Janet,
did you hear about the lady who wore space panties all the time?”
She
looked over at Ron and smiled as she keyed the mike. “No, Larry. What about
her?”
“She
thought her ass was out of this world,” Larry laughed, in a raspy, wheezing
sound.
Janet
looked around and everyone laughed as she keyed the mike again. “Have you been
in my linen drawer, Larry?”
“No!
Why? Is it full of space panties?”
“Well,
I
am
wearing them and I
am
in space.”
“And
I think her ass is out of this world,” Ron interjected.
“Oops!
Hi, Ron. I forgot that you were on board this week.” Larry winked at his first
officer. He knew all along that Ron was there.
“Hi
Larry. Yeah, they got me acting like a reporter, interviewing everyone and
taking videos. I’ll get a good, close-up shot of that space ass a little
later.”
Janet
slugged him. “Ow!” he moaned, rubbing his arm.
“Hey
folks, don’t forget that we’re all down here listening,” Matt Johnson
interjected. Both shuttle crews and the NASA team were laughing. The radio was
broadcast on a general frequency that everyone on the shuttles and Houston
could hear.
Larry
wheezed out another laugh. “By the way you two, no foolin’ around out here on
the mission. This is strictly business you know, and I don’t mean monkey
business.”
Ron
and Janet looked at each other and grinned. They knew that there would, indeed,
be some monkey business later. “Right! Strictly business,” Ron replied.
“Well,
I hate to chat and run,” Larry noted, “but at this speed, it's hard to look out
the window and wave at you. I'll see you in a week.”
“Just
make sure you get that shuttle fixed and back here on time,” Janet said. “I
don't want to be late for the celebration dinner.”
“Hellfire
girl”, Larry added. “You really think they're going to start without you? I
wish I was going to be there.”
“You
will
be there, Larry,” she replied. “Or at least your image will. We
should be televising you live from the moon.”
“Yeah,
but I won't be chowing down on the steaks and champagne like you guys,” Larry
moaned.
“Don't
worry, Larry. I'll eat one for you,” Ron remarked, snickering sarcastically.
“Thanks,
Ron! You're all heart, and I can hear you laughin’.”
“Anything
for a friend, Larry.”
“Catch
you on the flip-flop, folks,” Larry said. “Gotta run!”
“See
ya later, Larry,” Janet snapped the mike back into its holder and looked at
Ron. “I love that guy. He is hilarious.”
“Everybody
loves Larry,” Ron agreed.
Three
hours later,
Intrepid
entered orbit around the moon.
The lander crew was strapped in and final preparations were completed for
separation.
The
commander of the lander team and Second Officer of the shuttle was Lieutenant
Mike Sanders, an excellent pilot, who had been with the moon base project from
the first mission. He was five-foot-eight with sandy colored hair and blue
eyes.
Mike
was originally born in Germany, and moved to the United States with his family
when he was thirteen. His dad was an aeronautical engineer with NASA, and Mike
followed in his footsteps, adding piloting and astronaut to his resume’. Even
though Mike had been in the United States for fifteen years, he was still a
German citizen and represented Germany in NASA’s international program.
“We’re
ready for dedocking,” Mike said, checking his instruments.
Oliver
watched them on camera, as he wiped a couple of fingerprints off the monitor.
Everyone on the crew, including Janet, but she would never admit to it, would
intentionally put a fingerprint in the middle of each monitor, just to
aggravate him.
Oliver
unlatched and flipped up a clear cover, guarding the cargo bay doors switch.
“Bay doors opening,” Oliver warned, as he pushed the switch.
The
shuttles orbited upside down, so the bay doors were always facing the moon.
And, no matter how many times you saw it, the sight was spectacular as the
doors opened and the moon filled the entire viewing area, brilliantly
illuminating the cargo bay. They were so
close,
you
had the illusion that you could reach out and touch the moon, or jump from the
shuttle and gently land on its surface.
“Bay
doors open and locked,” Oliver noted. “You’re clear to release.”
“Clear
to release,” Mike repeated. He pushed the release button, and four locking
jaws, that held the lander module secure in the bay, opened like a lobster’s
pincers. He pushed another button and a small blast of air shot out of a nozzle
on the bottom, pushing the lander up and away from the shuttle.
“Clear
from our end,” Mike confirmed, watching out the window as they moved away from
the shuttle. Most of the team was also looking out of the lander windows. One
of them had his face pressed up against the glass. He knew that Oliver would
see him on the camera.
“Clear
from down here,” Oliver replied. “You might want to check on Frank. I think his
face is stuck to the window again.”
“Okay!
We’re outta here,” Mike said. He activated the main thruster and began his
descent to the moon’s surface. “Somebody peel Frank’s face off the window.”
“See
you in a few days. God speed,” Oliver added, which is what he said at this
point on every mission.
“Right!
Keep the lights on for us,” Mike said, which is what he would always reply back
to Oliver.
The
lander’s descent was computer controlled. Mike and his copilot were there to
monitor the instruments, in case there was a malfunction and they needed to
manually take over. The entire process, from dedocking to touchdown, took only
fifteen minutes. The lander glided effortlessly to the surface and
automatically shut down the thruster.
The moon dust settled as a flexible tube
assembly extended and locked to the side of the lander, completely covering the
door. Mike opened the door and a slight hiss of air escaped as the two units
equalized pressure.
Lieutenant
Bob Leddy, the commander of the crew that was already there, was standing there
to greet them. He was a thin, five-foot-ten, with brown hair cut in a flattop
and green eyes.
“Welcome
back,” he said, shaking Mike’s hand. “Everything’s right on schedule. It should
be an easy week. Mostly, you guys will be testing everything, to ensure it’s
working as advertised.”
“Good
to be here,” Mike said. “We’re ready to finish up and get back for the big
shindig next week. Can you believe that we’re almost finished?”
“It’s
been a long time coming,” Bob remarked. He grabbed a handful of supplies. “But
well worth it. My kid is telling all of his friends how his dad’s going to be
in the history books. Kind of a good feeling, isn’t it?”
“Yes
it is!” Mike nodded. He was very proud to be part of this historic moment.
He and Bob had been approached by talk show hosts and commercial
advertisers
. They were both aware that, after next week, their lives
would be changed forever.
Mike’s
crew got everything unloaded and joined the other crew to get a good turnover
on what’s been done, and what still needed work.
Above
the moon, Janet, Oliver and Ron were chatting with the other orbiting shuttle.
With the overlap schedule, there were always two shuttles orbiting at the same
time, and occasionally three, for a very short period. The other shuttle was
Moonwalker, commanded by Lt. Colonel Bill Rand, another Brit and seasoned
veteran who had been with the moon base program since the beginning. Bill was
thirty-one, a lean six-foot-two, with dark brown hair and brown eyes. Next to
Larry, he was the other comedian of the group.
“Intrepid
to Moonwalker,” Oliver called. “Anyone home over there?”
“Hey
Ollie, is that you?” Bill replied.
“The
one and only. How are you this morning, Commander Rand?”
“You
got that good looking commander with you?” Bill asked.
“You
mean the one that I’m dating?” Ron interjected, smirking at Oliver.
“Hey
Ron! Forgot you were coming along on this one. I was going to see if I could
talk that pretty woman into leaving you and going for a real man; you know, the
James Bond type.”
Ron
started laughing. “And where is she going to find someone like that around
here?”
“Check
your monitor,” Bill said.
They
looked over and Bill was standing in a James Bond pose, kind of squinting one
eye, while raising the other eyebrow, with his lips in a tight, smirky grin.
“What’s
wrong with your eyes?” Ron asked. “They look all deformed.”
“Ha,
ha! Very funny!” Bill replied, crossing his eyes and putting his face up close
to the camera. “You American blokes all wish you had our charm and finesse.
Ron
started chuckling again. “I may not have your charm and finesse, but I have the
best looking lady in the space business.”
“Right
you are! I’ll have to give you credit for that,” Bill agreed.
“Are
you guys done comparing dicks?” Janet asked, pushing into view of the camera.
“Oh!
Hi, Janet,” Bill snickered. “Yes! And mine is definitely bigger.”
“Really?”
she asked, laughing. “Hold up one of your hands.”
Bill
held one hand up in front of the camera and Janet shook her head. “Oh, that’s
too bad.”
“You
don’t really believe that shit, do you? I mean, you can’t really judge the size
of a man’s penis by the length of his hand,” Bill noted, defensively.
“I
don’t know,” she said. “Every time I checked it out, it came pretty damn close.
But don’t worry Bill, Ron’s hands aren’t very big either.”