Altered America (32 page)

             
Collins nodded as he pulled something from his pocket. “He sends his best and wanted you to know that, if it wasn’t for the accident, he would be here himself today.”

             
“I know that, sir,” David said. “Mom said that he might still be stuck in the hospital when we launch.”

             
Collins nodded his head. “I have a sneaking suspicion that, come hell or high water, your father is going to make sure that he sees you launch, even if it involves having a nurse sneak a TV into his room.”

             
“I have no illusions whatsoever that that will happen, sir,” replied David, smiling. “I am, in fact, willing to lay odds that he’ll get himself out of the hospital and be sitting on his favorite easy chair on that day.”

             
That got a smile from Collins as well. “Having met the man, I have to concur with your assessment.” Collins extended his closed hand towards David. “That being said, he thought you should have this.”

             
With that, Collins opened his hand.  Resting in his palm was a 1928 Peace Dollar coin.
David’s
coin.

             
“You hadn’t asked for it,” Collins explained, “but he said he had a feeling that you
needed
it.”

             
David continued to stare at the coin, too stunned to react. After a moment, he silently nodded his head and looked up at Collins’ eyes. “The man knows me better than I know myself, I think.”

             
“That’s what dads do,” replied Collins, as he gently placed the dollar coin onto the table with a soft
clink
sound. David—slowly, reluctantly, and with great reverence—reached out and grasped it.

             
David stared at the coin, examining it from every angle, feeling every ridge and mark on it. So engrossed was he in his task that he glazed over a question from Collins.

             
“Pardon?” David asked. “I’m sorry—I didn’t catch that.”

             
“I asked, have you decided on the words?”

             
David, slowly, hesitantly, shook his head.  “May I ask—do you know what words... Armstrong... was going to...?” 

             
Collins
harrumphed
and shook his head.  “Neil always played his cards close to his chest.  You should have seen how annoyed he got whenever people offered him suggestions.”

             
“May I ask, what did
you
suggest?”

             
Collins stared at David for a very long moment before he spoke. “I said to him if he had any balls, he’ll say ‘Oh, my God, what is that thing?’ then scream and cut his mike.”

             
David stared at Collins for a very long moment in silence. And then—“I think, if it’s all the same to you, sir, I’ll come up with my own words.”

             
“I’m sure you will.” Collins offered his hand to David. “Good luck to you David; make us proud.”

             
“I will, sir. I will.”

(
6)

Mortal as I am, I know that I am born for a day.

But when I follow at my pleasure the serried multitude of the stars

in their circular course, my feet no longer touch the earth.

—
Ptolemy

August 7, 1968
–
John F. Kennedy Space Center, Florida

             
“Thanks for coming in, guys,” Slayton said as David, Gordon, and Bean walked into his office.  The three astronauts shuffled around a bit in the cramped office as Deke perched himself on the edge of the desk.  “You’re probably wondering why I called you in here.”

             
“Damn straight!” said Richard Gordon. This got an “Uh-huh!” from Alan Bean. David, for his part, just nodded his head in silence.

             
Slayton let out a loud sigh and ran his hand through his hair.  “We’re having a few problems with the LEM.”

             
The three astronauts exchanged a glance.

             
“What
kind
of problems?” David asked.

             
“It’s not going to be ready in time for Apollo 8.”

             
The three astronauts exchanged another glance. The three men were the back-up crew for Apollo 8.

             
“So... what happens now?” asked David.

             
Deke let out another sigh. “You have to understand, we didn’t want to do this. But we can’t afford to have another delay. And everyone—from James Webb himself on down—all agree that the solution we came up with is the best solution.” Deke paused. “It is, in fact, the
only
solution.” He stared at the three men for a very long moment.  “Apollo 8 has now been officially changed from a D mission to a lunar orbital mission using just the Command Module—what we’re calling a C-Prime mission. Apollo 9 will be the new D-mission.”

             
“What?” screamed Gordon, standing up so fast that his chair got knocked down behind him. Bean just swore a string of obscenities softly under his breath.

             
David fixed Deke’s gaze with his own.

             
NASA had decided almost exactly one year earlier that the best path to a successful Moon landing was the creation of different mission types. Seven mission types had been outlined, each testing a specific set of components and tasks, and each previous step would need to be completed successfully before the next mission type could be undertaken. Each member of the crew—and the back-up crew—had trained for each specific type of mission.

             
This switch meant that David’s crew was now going to be back-up to Apollo 9, instead of 8.

             
“I’m sorry,” Deke said.

             
The three astronauts stared at Deke in quiet resignation. All three men knew what was unspoken in Deke’s apology.

             
Deke had been using a rotation system of assigning a crew as backup and then, three missions later, as the prime crew. There
had
been exceptions and last-minute shuffling to this system, of course—often due to unexpected illnesses or equipment glitches or any number of other factors. Nevertheless, while it wasn’t
quite
written in stone, it had been used—and was still used enough—that a betting man might still be confident in making his prediction.

             
As back-up crew of Apollo 8, the three astronauts had an almost certain chance of being the prime crew for Apollo 11, designated as mission G, assuming all the other missions were a success.

             
The three men had just been denied the chance of being the first men on the Moon.

* * *

              “Hi,” said a voice behind David.

             
It was two hours after Slayton’s bad news and David had been spending the time sitting at a quiet table under a tree.

             
David turned at the sound of the voice.

             
“Neil!”

             
“Hi,” repeated Armstrong, as he took a seat next to David.

             
The two men sat in silence for a long moment. And then...

             
“Slayton told me the news as well,” Neil said. “I’m sorry.”

             
David literally did a double-take at that.  “Why the hell are you sorry for, Neil?” David clasped Neil’s shoulder with his hand. “This has never been about just one man. This has always been all about all of us. Together. The
team
.”

             
There was just the slightest hint of a smile on Armstrong’s lips.  “Be that as it may, it’s still a horrible way to start off a morning, huh?”

             
David sighed and nodded his head in agreement. “That it is.”

             
Neil clamped his hand onto David’s shoulder. “Hey, for all we know, something
else
may go wrong and Apollo 12 ends up as the G-mission instead.”

             
“Don’t even think that, Neil!”

             
“No—guess you’re right, David.” Neil looked up at the early morning sky and shrugged his shoulders. “Damn, now I have to start thinking about what words to say if I get the command.”

             
“If?  You will, Neil, you will. I know you will.” David let out a laugh. “Thank God I’m not going to be the idiot that’s going to have to say the most important words in human history. I’m going to feel so sad for the poor bastard who’s going to be stuck with
that
responsibility!”

             
That got a laugh from both men and, still laughing, the two of them wandered back into the building.

(7)

If you go far enough out you can see the Universe itself, all the billion light years summed up time only as a flash, just as lonely, as distant as a star on a June night if you go far enough out. And still, my friend, if you go far enough out you are only at the beginning
—
of yourself.

—
Rolf Jacobsen

August 31, 1970
–
John F. Kennedy Space Center, Florida

             
“James Burke, BBC! Mr. Patton, you have mentioned that your flight, as we know all too well, contains many risks. What, in view of that, would your plans be in the unlikely event that the lunar module does not come off the Moon’s surface?”

             
The three astronauts exchanged a quick glance. David, clearing his throat, took a deep breath.

             
“We’ve chosen not to think about that situation at the present time. As you are all aware, numerous upgrades and modifications have been made to all the systems in the last year and we are confident that that situation, while a possibility, is one that’s
not
at all likely. But, to answer your question, at the present time, we are left without recourse should that happen.”

             
As one, the small army of reporters and newsmen in the auditorium quickly scribbled down that last sentence.

             
David glanced over at his two comrades, who gave him a glance in return.

             
Well, at least we got
that
question out of the way, right guys?

             
“Jay Barbree, NBC! You were speaking a few moments ago about naming the spacecraft the
Odyssey
and the lunar module the
Phoenix
. Do you have any plans to name the site on which you will land? That is to say, the immediate area where you land. Will you give it any particular name?”

             
“As in previous flights, in the absence of official names for the various locations and landmarks on the lunar surface, we have chosen to use some unofficial names for our recognition purposes. And we will continue to do that. As we will be landing in the Ocean of Storms, the
unofficial
name for the landing area will be known as Phoenix’s Repose. Yes—next question.”

             
“Tim Ralfe, Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. On a lighter note, you are now taking the trip of all trips of all mankind. Can I ask each one of you, which place you would like to go to on vacation when you return to Earth?”

             
David, Richard, and Alan smirked.
Finally, a
real
question!

             
“Well,” said David, still smiling, “I think the place I would
really
like to go to immediately afterwards would be the Lunar Receiving Laboratory.”

             
That got a ripple of laughter from reporters and technicians alike.

             
A nearby technician glanced at his watch and nodded to the NASA spokesperson who had organized the press conference. The spokesman nodded in response and turned to the audience. “One last question,” he shouted. “Yes—you in the first row. The young man in the blue jacket. Your question?”

             
“David Chatham. Michigan Daily. Mr. Patton, you have no doubt been inundated with suggestions of what words to say as you step on the Moon for the very first time. My question is very simple—have you chosen the words?”