Space Hoax

1 TO THE EARTH

Peter Novak sat comfortably in a beach chair on a sandy white beach of a beautiful, secluded tropical island. The hot sun beat down on him as he dug his feet deep into the warm sand, wiggling his toes. A smile crossed his face. He inhaled the salty ocean breeze as he watched his beautiful baby daughter playing in the sand near his buried feet. Seeing the joy on her cute little face reminded him of how lucky he was to be sitting here, blessed to be part of her life. A soft squeeze of his hand prompted him to turn and gaze into Anya’s crystal-blue eyes. The love of his life sat in a chair next to him, giving him a proud nod. She looked stunning in her sexy red bikini as her gorgeous, black hair fluttered in the breeze. Though it couldn’t get any better than this, something still gnawed in his gut, like he was missing something.

Anya let go of his hand before leaning forward to give their daughter a small plastic toy shovel. Watching his daughter’s tiny fingers reaching for the orange plaything set Peter’s mind off racing to the moment his life depended on him reaching a thin metal antenna rod in space. It seemed like only yesterday that he was floating precariously alone in his spacesuit above the silent, barren moon. Without a jet-pack or a tether line to guide him, he was at the mercy of the vector he had pushed off in. His target was a Shenzhou spacecraft there to rescue him, which baffled Peter since it was the same ship that had tried to kill him. When he leaped toward the Chinese spacecraft, his foot slipped, causing his aim to be off. There was no way of correcting the mistake; his course was set. His last ray of hope as he drifted over the moon was the shiny four-foot antenna sticking off the Shenzhou spacecraft. Grab it and be saved, miss it, and die.

Peter studied the waves crashing on the shoreline. The tumbling motion churned up his irritation about what had sent him to the moon in the first place. China had made a shocking claim that America never put a man on the moon, that the films were all faked in a movie studio. Conspiracy theorists had been spouting the idea since 1969. China’s “evidence,” backing their claim, was convincing—rocks they’d scooped up on a covert mission to the moon’s back side. If China then openly landed their taikonauts on the moon, history would be rewritten. America’s heroic moonwalkers and space program would be disgraced. The only way to expose China was to send an astronaut to the moon, a feat that hadn’t been done by the United States in over forty years, to take detailed pictures of the Apollo landing sites. The LEM’s descent stage, lunar rover, footprints, the American flag—all the detritus the landings had left on Earth’s only satellite, 239,000 miles away.

America had figured out how to get their man to the moon, but with only one booster engine; there was no way back. After successfully transmitting detailed pictures of the landing sites back to Earth, the astronaut would float in lunar orbit until his air ran out.

Peter was part of SID, the Space Intelligence Division of the CIA. As one of their top agents, previously trained by NASA, he was offered the suicide mission. Peter struggled with the decision of accepting the task. He loved life and had no plans of cutting it short. But his father’s legacy balanced on the outcome of the operation. Tom Novak was one of only twelve men to have walked on the lunar surface. Witnessing his dad’s sudden death, his heart attack prompted by China’s lies, was enough to fuel Peter to accept the deadly assignment and set the record straight. China chased him there in their Shenzhou spacecraft, but they were too late—he’d already relayed the photos home.

A nudge broke Peter’s concentration. Anya was offering him a cold bottle of beer. He happily grabbed the opened brew before leaning back in his chair, taking a big swig. Though the voyage to the moon had had its share of surprises, the biggest was learning that Anya was pregnant with his child. The unexpected news caused Peter to regret his decision to accept the dead-end trip. Watching his daughter having fun in the sand, Peter did an imaginary toast in her direction. Thank God I grabbed that antenna and saved my ass.

Suddenly, an angry man on a towel next to him began yelling into his cell phone in Chinese. It was as if the man had come out of nowhere. The beach was practically empty. Why the hell did this guy have to sit right next to us? Anya reached for Peter’s hand and squeezed, signaling him to let it go. But Peter couldn’t take the disruption anymore and let go of her hand. Before he could confront the man, a white Frisbee conked him squarely on the head. He reached for his forehead and rubbed it, then lowered his head, momentarily closing his eyes. As he slowly straightened up and reopened his eyes, everything changed.

Peter was no longer on a beautiful beach, but strapped in a sleeping bag on the wall in the small confines of the Shenzhou spacecraft. The rough stubble on his face confirmed he had been dreaming. He was still in the Chinese spacecraft headed for Earth. Damn. He slowly woke and focused on his tight surroundings as he heard the commander, Tang Liwei, yelling in Chinese. He turned his head and rubbed his eyes as he looked through the small hatch into the connecting Descent Module where the two taikonauts sat. Tang, sitting in the center seat, stopped yelling and yanked off his snoopy cap in disgust.

“What was all that about?” Peter groggily asked as he stretched out his arms, still amazed at how real his dream had seemed.

“Sie Wang be arrested. He gave false orders to save you. They not okay by CNSA.” For the first time Peter saw anger in Tang’s eyes as he spoke in his accented English. Peter had assumed CNSA, China’s space agency, saved him as a goodwill gesture after being caught lying to the world. Apparently acting alone, Sie Wang, their manager of space operations, had changed everything.

Having dealt with CNSA while working undercover for SID, Peter had met Tang a few times. Peter knew the Chinese man was dedicated to his country. He was a strong military man who sternly followed orders. Tang was clearly troubled as he stared right past Peter, in deep thought. What is he going to do? Peter didn’t know what to say. Nei Zango, sitting in the pilot’s seat next to Tang, stayed quiet. Finally Peter broke the awkward silence, “Does that mean you have to drop me off at the nearest gas station?”

Tang didn’t smile. He put his hand to his cheek and caressed it before his dark brown eyes locked onto Peter’s. “You now be prisoner of China. When we land, you be taken to Jiuquan and question. Then be pass to military.”

Peter automatically looked at the gun stowed next to the commander’s seat. Its triple barrel design indicated it was similar to Russia’s survival pistol, capable of firing flares, shotgun shells, or rifle bullets. Tang caught Peter’s look and put his hand on the gun, assuring its strap was secure before lightly patting it.

Although Peter was in high spirits to be returning to Earth, no way was he going to be taken prisoner. He had come too far to be denied being with Anya. He wanted to hold her, love her. He wanted to rub her pregnant tummy. Right away, his mind started racing as he tried to figure out how he was going to get out of this mess. He had to give Tang the assurance he was going to cooperate. “I’m sorry Sie Wang went against CNSA orders. I understand what you have to do. I am just glad you saved my ass and I will get back to Earth. I figure it will only be a matter of time before our two governments work things out and I am returned to the U.S.”

Tang lifted his hand off the gun as a grim smile appeared on his face. He nodded slightly.

ANYA ALEXANDROV RUBBED her hands nervously together under the desk as she stared at the large screen in front of the FKA control room. The Russian Federal Space Agency handled all Russian space flights, but had no control over Chinese flights. The screen showed an estimated location of where Peter should be, but since Russia had no communication with CNSA, they had to rely on their satellites and radar. Peter’s location indicated they were in orbit and should be falling to Earth at any moment.

Anya had gotten little sleep over the last three days since learning Peter was returning home. She was too excited. She couldn’t wait to hold him again, something she was so sure a week ago would never happen.

With her jaw clenched, she whispered to her brother sitting next to her, “Shouldn’t they have started re-entry by now?”

Dmitri was working through calculations on his desk and did not answer. He abruptly stopped and put his hand flat on the table before turning to her. He drew a sharp breath. “I would have thought so. I’m a little concerned that they haven’t.”

As the Assistant Director of FKA, her brother would have a good idea of what Peter’s chances were. She chewed on her bottom lip before asking, “Should I be worried?”

He reached over and put a firm hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure everything will be fine. Maybe CNSA’s procedures for entering the atmosphere are different than ours.” Dmitri pulled his hand away and picked up his phone to make a call.

She wasn’t convinced. She looked up at the screen, fixated on the small blinking red dot representing Peter’s location. She brought her hand to her chest and began to rub her half of the pendant hanging from her neck that read “Soul.” Come on, Peter. Come back to me.

A BEAD OF cold sweat materialized on Peter’s forehead as he floated under the straps in his seat. He had observed Tang struggling during the last two orbits trying to enter their trajectory into the onboard computer for re-entry. Peter assumed if Tang was unable to program the computer, the commander would have to handle the descent manually, which would be tricky. Both Tang and Nei had been frantically speaking with CNSA to work out the problem. Since they spoke in Chinese, Peter understood very little, and all he could do was sit and watch, frustrated.

Both taikonauts sat to the right of Peter and wore their anti-g flight suits, helmets on, visors shut. Unfortunately, there was no flight suit for Peter since he had not been expected to be returning with them. Instead, he wore a pair of borrowed coveralls from Tang and no helmet, only a headset so he could hear and talk to the two taikonauts. Peter could not wear his EMU spacesuit he entered the capsule with since its torso section was too rigid, and he would be unable to sit in his seat. Instead, the spacesuit was left in the Orbital Module to be burned upon re-entry when separated from the Descent Module.

If the descent went according to plan, Peter would be subjected to 5 g as they entered the atmosphere. After over a week of weightlessness, 5 g would feel like 15 g. Having no anti-g suit, he expected to experience serious discomfort but was convinced he could handle it. If Tang was unable to control the re-entry manually, or if they experienced further problems, they could enter the atmosphere in the more severe ballistic mode, spinning like a bullet and reaching 9 g. Such forces could be lethal if sustained over a long period.

Tang methodically started pushing buttons with gloved fingers, and even though the buttons were all labeled in Chinese, trained astronaut Peter knew the taikonaut was preparing the spacecraft for a manual descent. Though the Shenzhou spacecraft’s basic design was similar to the Soyuz, its control panel was much more high tech, even having two high-resolution LCD screens capable of showing complex graphics. Peter had been impressed with the detailed maps the commander scanned through earlier in the orbit.

Tang continued to work the controls, and soon the spacecraft began to roll slowly on its axis. Feeling like a stowaway, Peter folded his arms and looked out the small porthole on his side. Italy started to come into view, confirming they were in the right orbit to land in Inner Mongolia where most Chinese flights landed. He looked back at the LCD that had a map showing their location, and sure enough, they were above Italy. Looking back out the porthole, Peter still hadn’t figured out how he was going to escape once they landed. He figured when their hatch was opened, the spacecraft would be surrounded by Chinese soldiers. Then there was still the gun by Tang’s side. He wasn’t sure where the ammunition was or certain he would know how to operate the firearm. Possibly his best chance to escape would be during the transit to Jiuquan. He stiffened up knowing he first had to survive the landing.

Tang called out in English, “Engines fire in 30 seconds.”

Curious of their location, Peter glanced over at the LCD screen. Tang no longer had the map showing their location but instead one that had a small, red, outlined circle in northern China which Peter assumed was going to be their landing zone. He put his hand underneath his collar and searched for the pendant hanging around his neck given to him by Anya. Finding it nuzzled next to his dad’s locket, he gently rubbed his finger over the single word, “Mate.” That piece of jewelry symbolized their relationship. Her pendent was half of a charm, which read, “Soul.” He had the other half that read, “Mate.” The trinkets were bought by Anya when she visited him during training. When she proudly presented his pendent as a gift, she said she loved him for the first time. He whispered with determination, “Baby, I’ll make it home.” Peter double-checked his seatbelt strap before pushing his body back tightly into his seat; this was going to be a rough ride home.

PRESIDENT BILL EDWARDS stormed through the side door into the Oval Office. The head of NASA, Doug Rose, was already sitting patiently in a patent leather chair across from the President’s desk. Bill had requested that the NASA man learn what was happening with the CIA agent he had sent on a suicide mission to the moon. He gave a casual wave before strutting quickly around his desk and taking a seat.

The President wasted no time and got right to the point. “What’s the latest with Peter?”

Doug looked the President straight in his eyes. “Sir, he’s in orbit, but we think there might be a problem. For some reason they haven’t entered the atmosphere.”

The President leaned back in his chair. “Any ideas why not?”

Doug slowly put his hand to the back of his neck and rubbed. “We’re not sure. It could be almost anything; an equipment failure, a computer issue. But there is definitely something wrong. There is no reason to stay in orbit.”

The President turned and looked out the window. He would hate for the patriotic hero to die so close to earth after traveling hundreds of thousands of miles and successfully pulling off the mission. “Is there anything we can do?”

Doug shook his head. “I doubt it. Ever since CNSA cut off communication after rescuing Peter, we have been kept in the dark on the status of the flight. We need to know what the problem is and how long they can stay in orbit before we can figure out how we can help.”

“What could we do?”

“We could possibly send over a Soyuz from the space station and shuttle them back to the ISS, but…”

Bill registered the troubled look on Doug’s face. “But what?”

“The Soyuz has only three seats. So there would need to be a couple trips to save all three men. The logistics could probably be worked out, but the problem is Peter probably doesn’t have a spacesuit.”

The President tilted his head. “Why?”

“The EMU suit he wore when he entered is too big and rigid to fit in the Descent Module, and I doubt the Chinese have a suit on board that would fit a six foot one inch tall man.”

The President leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. He appeared confused. “How did he get into the spacecraft in the first place?”

“Sir, remember the Shenzhou spacecraft is similar to the Soyuz, which has three different modules. Peter entered the bigger Orbital Module from space, which acted as an airlock. In order to get into the Descent Module, he had to remove his EMU suit. Before they enter the atmosphere in the Descent Module, they separate from the other two modules.” Doug put his head down. “If they have already separated from the Orbital Module, there would be no way of saving Peter. He would die when the hatch was opened.” Doug slumped deeper in his chair as his eyes grew wider.

“What is it?”

The NASA Administrator shook his head. “Sir, this problem they are having may require their spacecraft to enter the atmosphere ballistic.”

“What the hell is that?”

“It’s a very dangerous way to return to Earth. They will have no control of their spacecraft and will reach up to 9 g. This is tough on the body when wearing an anti-g spacesuit, and possibly fatal without one.”

A flash of disappointment swelled through the President. “Damn.” His voice grew in strength. “We need to re-establish communication with the Chinese. That hero cannot die.”