Six months earlier. Cape Canaveral, Florida
General Austin sat across from the two NASA head administrators, Dr. Esme Bolden, and her Chief Assistant Administrator, Brian Duncan. The meeting, though informal, was held in the General's spacious office. It was a room personally designed by the head of the Space Agency and some jokingly called it 'The Throne Room." The office's two walls had large picture windows overlooking the Space Program's four main launch fields. The other walls were adorned with framed glass pictures of famous space pioneers and astronomical wonders, as well as memorabilia collected from past missions.
The furniture reflected the larger-than-life personality of the office's owner: big overstuffed leather chairs, ornate glass tables, bookshelves filled with first edition classics, and a large, polished oak desk sitting atop of a polished hardwood floor. Not liking surprises, General Austin had his desk strategically placed in the corner farthest away from the door. It gave him time to size up people as they entered and approached. To most people, the General was an imposing figure. Tall and muscular, he had the look of a man that was used to having his way. He demanded obedience from his subordinates and got it most of the time.
Dr. Esme Bolden, an older African American woman who had been promoted from her position as Head Physicist to NASA's Chief Administrator, was unimpressed and not at all intimidated the General. She sat in front of him, her expression impassive and distant. Her dignified face always held a neutral, open expression, regardless of her real feelings.
Many of her colleagues thought she would make a great poker player as she could be very difficult, if not impossible, to read. Her Chief Assistant, Brian Duncan, was another story. The grey-haired scientist never left anyone in doubt about how he felt. At the moment, he was impatiently tapping of his foot on the floor and scowling as he stared out the window.
"I'm assuming you both read the F.L.O. dossier?"
Dr. Bolden inclined her head slightly. "Yes, General."
Duncan wasn't so polite. "I read it and what I got from it is that you're giving us six months to get the survey mission off the ground? That's very generous of you, General. You're a regular peach." He glared through his round metal glasses at the General, his mouth drawn up in a venomous frown.
General Austin had expected such a reaction and it didn't bother him. He was used to Duncan's outbursts and since he was a civilian it was tolerated. Unconcerned, he leaned back in his chair. "Yes, that's right, Mr. Duncan. I personally feel that six months is a reasonable amount of time to prepare for the survey mission for the First Lunar Outpost. I don't believe there will be any problems."
"You don't, huh?" rumbled Duncan. "Well, pardon me, if I disagree. Why the six month deadline anyway?"
The General ignored Duncan's question and turned to Dr. Bolden instead. "We have the technology and the mission plan in place. All that's needed is to assemble and train the crew. I made some suggestions as to whom I'd recommend."
Dr. Bolden nodded and tapped the computer tablet she held on her lap. Duncan scooted his chair closer so he could see the tablet's screen. He quickly scanned over the list of names and snorted. "Problem number one. Jeff Tracy already tendered his resignation. Problem number two, so did Eric Crawford. They're leaving next month to work on a business venture together."
"I think they can be convinced to hold off until after this mission," the General calmly asserted.
"I'm glad you think so," Duncan grunted. "Maybe you can give it a go convincing them."
General Austin smiled, showing a line of white teeth. "I plan to do just that, Brian. I'm having dinner with Colonel Tracy tonight."
"What about Major Crawford?" Duncan challenged. "I know for a fact he's getting ready to leave. He's already made plans to move his family next week."
The General waved a hand dismissively. "When Tracy decides to take the mission, so will he. Everyone knows where one goes, the other follows."
Dr. Bolden shifted in her seat, speaking for only the second time since the meeting began. "I hope you're right, General. I can think of no one I'd rather have leading this mission than Colonel Tracy."
General Austin smiled at her. "I'm right. You'll see. I guarantee that Jeff Tracy will never be able to resist another trip to the moon."
"I think I've had enough for one day." Eric Crawford brushed his messy blondish-brown hair out of his eyes. The dirty work gloves he wore left a dark smudge on his forehead. His dark gray t-shirt was covered with grime and water stains and the knees of his jeans were muddy.
Jeff set a cardboard box down on the neat pyramid of boxes that had been stacked in the middle of the room. He sat down in a worn armchair and sighed as he sank down in the lumpy cushions. "Why stop now? We've got plenty of time yet."
Eric tossed a handful of tools in an open tool box on the floor. His dark blue eyes mirrored the weariness he felt from spending most of the day working on the plumbing in basement of his rented house. "I think I broke the Guinness World Record for the fixing the most leaky pipes today." He grimaced and shook his head. "And also for seeing the most snakes."
Jeff chuckled. "Why do think I volunteered to pack? I knew that a wet basement in Florida would be like a snake scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark."
Eric grinned. "Some friend you are. I could have had been lying in a puddle of water, dying slowly from a deadly poisonous bite while you packed up Mel's three thousand romance novels, her thirty-two yoga mats, and her magic crystals."
"Don't worry," Jeff assured from the chair. "I knew you were alright by the number of times I heard you cursing. Think you broke another world record there too. Who would have know you were a master of profanity? I don't think I've heard you swear more than once the entire time I've know you."
Eric laughed. "Here I thought the only audience I had was the pipes and the snakes. I didn't know that you had your ear on the floor, Jeff. You want a beer?"
"Nope." Jeff put the footrest up on the chair and laid all the way back. "I'll take this chair though if you don't want it."
"Ha." Eric leaned up against the boxes. "In your dreams. That chair is the only thing I care about taking. Nothing else matters as far as my stuff goes."
Jeff glanced at his watch. "I didn't realize it was already five. I've got to go meet General Austin at six. I guess I should think about getting ready."
"So what does the old boy want from you?" Eric called as he headed to the kitchen to get a beer out of the refrigerator.
Jeff pondered the question. What did General Austin want from him? To say goodbye and good luck? Somehow he doubted that. The General never had the time or interest for such things as far as that went. With how busy Jeff had been helping Eric move his family and making plans for their business, he hadn't really thought about the invitation from the Space Agency General.
"I have no idea what he wants," Jeff admitted when Eric reappeared with beer in hand. "I guess I'll find out."
Eric took a gulp from the bottle. "Yeah, well, don't let him talk you into doing anything you might regret later on. You know how he is when it comes to getting what he wants."
Jeff snorted, dismissing his friend's concerns with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry, Eric. I have no intention of being talked into anything. Four more weeks and we'll be heading out into the wild blue yonder of the business world."
Lost in thought, Jeff piloted the small plane instinctively. He was so used to making the trip back to their home in Kansas that he was convinced he could do it in his sleep, and indeed, he wondered if sometimes did just that. In the seat behind him, Lucy was curled up with a blanket. Fatigue had finally caught up to her about an hour into the flight and she had fallen asleep. They hadn't talked about what happened the night before and he was glad. He just wanted her to let it go and fortunately, she hadn't brought it up. She had been strangely quiet that morning and Jeff suspected that she had the starting of a migraine even thought she didn't say it.
The flight home left him time to think and remember. He was tempted to turn on the radio or listen to music but he didn't want to disturb Lucy. Instead, he listened to the hum of the engines and the silence that hid behind that familiar noise. No matter how he tried to keep his mind completely clear and empty, thoughts kept intruding. At first he fought it and pushed them away, but gradually he gave up as the images forced themselves into his mind's eye. Jeff could hear his own words to his friend echoing in his head. Four more weeks and we'll be heading out into the wild blue yonder of the business world.
Yet, here it was six months later and it hadn't happened. Everything had changed. Eric was gone and what was left of his body was in Arlington National Cemetery. Eric was dead and Jeff was alive, flying home, wishing he could go back and take a different road. He felt a stab of pain and wished he could just forget it and purge his mind of all memories.
The problem was it wouldn't go away and it wouldn't leave him alone. He relived the last minutes of the mission over and over. In his mind, he could hear Eric quietly reciting bits and pieces of poetry as he worked desperately to repair the flight module's damaged photon reactor. It was a habit that the engineer had when he was doing something that required concentration. Up until that very moment, Jeff hadn't thought about what poem Eric had been saying quietly to himself as he fought a losing battle to contain the chain reaction that had burned through more and more power cells of the reactor. Without the reactor, there would be no way for them to escape from the surface and get back into space.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and sorry I could not travel both...
"Hurry up, Eric, we've lost thirty-five percent of the sector A!" James shouted into his headset.
And be one traveler, long I stood and looked down one as long as I could...
"Forty-seven percent!"
To where it bent in the undergrowth...
"Fifty-nine percent. It's accelerating!"
Then took the other just as fair and having perhaps the better claim...
"Sixty-six percent! Jesus Christ, it's going to spread to sector B!"
Because it was grassy and wanted wear though as for that the passing there had really worn them about the same..
"Seventy-five percent! Hurry, hurry...!"
And both that morning equally lay in leaves no step had trodden back...
"Eight-eight percent!"
Oh that I kept the first for another day. Yet knowing how way leads on to way I doubted if I should ever come back...
"We've lost it! It's gone! It's moving to Sector B! We're all going to die!"
"Shut up, James! Just shut up! We can still make it!" Jeff snapped at his co-pilot, irritated by the man's lack of self-control.
Jeff could see the monitor showing the ongoing destruction of the reactor's power cells. He could see death reaching for all of them, yet Eric's quiet voice went on as he struggled on with the reactor, battling the malfunction with all the skill he had, refusing to give up.
I should be telling this with a sigh somewhere ages and ages hence...
James was falling apart, putting his hands over his head, screaming in fear. Then Al pushed past to voice the monitor's erratic readings. His wide stoic face was white but deadly calm.
"Fifteen percent on B, Boss."
Two roads diverged in a wood and I took the one less traveled on.
"Thirty-five percent..."
And that has made all the difference.
Silence. Al's whoop of exhilaration as the reactor's monitor gauge showed a slowing of the demise of the power cells. "Thirty-seven percent and holding."
"Hurry up and get back in the airlock, Eric! We have to launch immediately before the reaction starts again and we lose another sector. If we lose B, we'll never get off the ground." Jeff looked at the screen that showed where the engineer had been working outside on the reactor. He could see his friend jumping and waddling as quickly as the low gravity and his bulky space suit would allow. In the background, the moonscape which he had once thought so beautiful was now savage and menacing. The pale gray dirt, the craters and the mountains...could have been the only witnesses to their deaths.
"I'm coming." Eric's strained voice came over the transmitter.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jeff was startled to see James hand poised over the launch button. "Do not launch, James," he said slowly, looking his pale, shaking co-pilot in the eye. "That's an order."
"Wait for me, Jeff. I'm coming. I'm almost there," Eric's breathless voice drifted over the channel as he reached the airlock door.
James defiantly met Jeff's eyes before a flick of his finger brought the launch rockets roaring to life.
It was a sound and a sight Jeff would never forget. Helplessly, he watched as the powerful force from the launch thrusters hit Eric, throwing him backwards several hundred feet. He bounced head over heels over the barren ground before the moon's weak gravitational pull let space have the astronaut. The still form floated slowly upward into space. Horrified, the occupants of the module watched in silence. The suit was noticeably charred and damaged, long pieces of white material hung in strips, softly floating in the weightlessness of space.
Eric was dead. Jeff knew it but it couldn't be true.
It couldn't be true. The motionless body continued floating in the silent vacuum. The image was seared into his brain.
Jeff couldn't stand the memory and he forcefully pushed back into some dark corner of his brain. He wasn't going to think about it anymore. The morning sun shone through the cockpit's windows and the sky was dazzlingly blue and beautiful. Jeff slid his sunglasses on to dim the view. Numbness settled over him again comfortably like a blanket.
Two more hours until they were home and for once in his life, he would be glad when he could get out of the air and back on solid ground. The sky had become his enemy and he didn't have the strength to face it.