Sea of Crises

by Marty Steere

  “And we have ignition.”

  Relief flooded Dayton. In fact, he thought he might finally have detected a bit of emotion in Cartwright’s voice. Beginning a silent count in his head, Dayton peered forward through the rendezvous window, looking for the first sign of the ascending lunar module. Five seconds. He saw nothing but the scarred lunar surface. Ten seconds. Still nothing.

  “There’s a slight vibration,” Cartwright announced, “but the engine seems to be firing just fine. We’re getting elevation fast.”

  Fifteen seconds. Almost out of the woods.

  There. A glint of metal ahead of him and below. The tiny speck that was the lunar module climbing its way up from the surface. A beautiful sight. Dayton knew Cartwright would be looking up through the small window inset above the commander’s station, trying to spot the command module.

  Twenty seconds. They were going to make it.

  And then Dayton noticed something. He blinked, thinking maybe he was just imagining it.

  Twenty-five seconds.

  “Standing by to cut engine,” Cartwright said. Then he immediately amended, “No need. Flame out at,” he paused, “twenty-nine point five seconds. How’s that for pegging it?”

  Dayton said nothing. He was frantically adjusting the settings on the master thruster sequence, inputting a safe trajectory away from the approaching module. He wondered if Cartwright could see what he’d seen.

  “Uh, Steve?” There was a new tension in Cartwright’s voice. He had seen it. “We’re coming in way too hot.”

  Somehow, they had underestimated the thrust. Like a speeding bullet, the lunar module was on a deadly collision course with the command module, and there was no way to slow it down.

  “I’m on it,” Dayton called out, as he set the master arm switch.

  “Fire your thrusters now,” Cartwright commanded. “Get out of the way.”

  “I can do this,” Dayton said, eyes locked on the approaching module. With a few deft touches to the controller, Dayton adjusted his course, lining his vessel up so that it was more centered in the path of the lunar module.

  “I’m not taking a vote,” Cartwright said, his voice firm.

  “Seriously…”

  “No,” Cartwright interrupted. “We’ll both break apart. It won’t do either of us any good for you to be killed too.”

  Both astronauts knew full well that if Dayton were to do what Cartwright was saying and pull the command vessel out of the way, allowing the module to blow by, the small craft would quickly escape the moon’s gravity. At that point, it would be a runaway train headed for the Milky Way. Of course, it wouldn’t get that far. The sun’s gravitational pull would eventually slow, then stop, the progress of the wayward module. Somewhere between Earth and Mars, the craft would ease into a solar orbit. By then, though, the men inside would have been dead for a couple of years.

  “I can’t just let that happen,” Dayton said, still working the controller. He could make out the details of the lunar module now, including the little window through which he knew Cartwright was looking back up at him.

  “I appreciate it Steve.” There was rare emotion in Cartwright’s voice. “Please look in on the boys for me.” Then the steel returned. “I’m taking the decision out of your hands. This is not a request. This is an order, Major. Fire those thrusters. Now.”

  Dayton lifted a hand and held it over the switch that would initiate the master sequence he’d plugged in seconds before. He stared out at the approaching vessel, eyes locked on the small window. God help me, he thought. He hesitated for an instant. Then he flipped the switch and fired the thrusters.

  PART THREE

  13

  When Nate had finished, no one spoke. The large room was quiet, the only sound a soft susurration from the open window as an evening breeze stirred the sheer curtains. In the distance, an owl hooted.

  Finally, in a quiet voice Matt asked, “How certain are you of all this? Do you know for sure they weren’t able to rendezvous?”

  Nate sighed, then nodded. “It’s a lot of deduction. I could be wrong about any of it. But,” he paused, then added sadly, “I don’t think I am.”

  Matt nodded and looked away.

  The others stared at the floor or contemplated spots in the distance. The exception, Nate realized after a few seconds, was Patricia Gale. She was looking up at Nate, a stricken expression across her face. She opened her mouth to speak, then froze, her lower lip trembling slightly. “I…” she managed in a weak voice. “I…”

  It seemed to rouse the others. As they turned to look at her, she blurted, “I am so sorry.”

  Nate started to respond, but before he could speak, she gasped, “My brother killed your father. Oh my god.” Tears welled in her eyes.

  “He wasn’t alone,” Peter said immediately. “He had a lot of help. And it’s not your fault, Patricia.”

  “But still,” Patricia said, plaintively.

  “It’s not your fault,” Peter repeated.

  She looked from Peter to Nate. Nate nodded. “He’s right.”

  “But,” she protested, the tears now working their way down her pale cheeks, “if I had said something.”

  “Stop,” Nate said firmly. “They kept you from saying something. It’s their fault. Not yours.”

  Nate turned to look at Matt. “And you know who they are.”

  #

  At the dinner table, there was little conversation. It seemed to Nate as though they were all still processing what they’d learned. He noticed, though, that, at various times, surreptitiously, each seemed to be looking to him. For what, he wasn’t sure. Maggie in particular appeared anxious to speak, her emerald eyes searching, questioning. But, she, like the others, kept her thoughts to herself.

  Nate’s feelings were a confusing jumble. Of course he was mad. His father’s death had not been the accident he’d always believed. There were people who were responsible for that. And he had no intention of letting them get away with it.

  But, for the moment, his thoughts were less on revenge and more on his father’s unfair fate.

  Over the past few days, Nate hadn’t been quite as ready as Peter to accept the notion that the capsule that had splashed down thirty-five years ago with three burned bodies was not Apollo 18. He’d questioned whether there might have been a last minute switch of the capsules before launch. That would have explained the anomaly Peter had discovered. But the NASA documents Nate had reviewed today had convinced him that the command module that lifted off from Cape Canaveral had not been the one retrieved from the Pacific Ocean. And, if that weren’t enough, the body count made no sense. If only Steve Dayton had made the return journey, there would have been but one corpse in the capsule, not three.

  Nate wasn’t sure how to deal with the knowledge that his father had not died in the inferno of his capsule, as he had always believed. Could the death that had finally taken him as the lunar module drifted in the cold vacuum of space been a better way to go? Would he have preferred knowing the end was nearing? And, would a slow suffocation have been better than a quick but agonizing death by immolation?

  Nate asked himself what he would have done in his father’s situation. Would he have waited until the oxygen was depleted, drawing things out as long as possible? Or would he have just opened the hatch and allowed himself to die in the relatively shorter period of time it would have taken for the atmosphere to drain from the module?

  The thought of the excruciating dilemma his father had faced was disturbing, and, as the others did, he spent the meal picking desultorily at the food on his plate, not even really focused on what it was. When everyone seemed to run out of the energy to do even that, Patricia rose quietly and began removing plates. Peter and Tim did likewise.

  From across the table, Matt cleared his throat, gave Nate a direct look and said, “You and I need to take a drive in a little bit.”

  Surprised, Nate nodded.

  “I’ve got a couple things I need to do right now,�
�� Matt said, and he stood. “We’ll leave in an hour.”

  As his brother strode from the room, Nate followed him with his eyes until they abruptly and unexpectedly locked on Maggie’s. She was staring at him from the end of the table with an intense expression. After a moment, she leaned forward and said softly, “Can we talk?”

  “Of course.”

  “In the other room?”

  “All right,” Nate said. He stood and followed her toward the living room. As soon as they’d rounded the corner, though, she suddenly halted and turned to face him. Taken by surprise, he almost ran her over, managing to stop just inches away. He looked down, and she stared back up at him, her eyes still imploring. He realized once again how incredible those eyes were. And, with the proximity, he detected a faint but pleasant scent. Perfume. Or maybe just the shampoo in her hair. Despite all the other things that were happening, his heart began beating faster, and he felt a pleasant sensation wash over him.

  When she spoke, her words helped cut through the distraction.

  “I’m so sorry about your Dad,” she said.

  Nate took a steadying breath and gave a slight nod of appreciation. He was about to say something in response, but she continued urgently.

  “Do you think my father is alive?”

  The question caught Nate up short. It wasn’t one he’d really focused on, but, of course, it was a fair one. He considered it now.

  By all accounts, the command service module had left lunar orbit as scheduled and had returned to Earth. There were details Nate had culled from his review of the documents that could only have made it into those documents if the capsule had come down in a condition sufficient to enable them to have been retrieved. Wouldn’t that suggest Dayton had survived? Nate did the quick math. If Dayton had lived, how old would he be now? Sixty-nine, seventy? No reason why he couldn’t still be alive. But, if he was, where was he? What happened to him?

  He focused again on Maggie. Her extraordinary eyes bore into his, and in them he could see so many things, anxiety, confusion, hope. And, he realized with a start, he wanted to know everything else.

  He blinked, forcing himself to concentrate.

  “I guess,” he said, slowly, “it’s possible.”

  As her eyes got wider, he added quickly, “But after all this time…” He didn’t know how to finish, and his voice trailed off.

  “But it’s still possible,” she insisted.

  After a moment, he nodded.

  “Will you help me find him?”

  She had such a look of desperation and need that Nate had the sudden impulse to reach out for her. He held back though. The two of them didn’t really know each other, and he was loathe to appear too forward or familiar.

  Instead, he gave her a direct look and said softly, “I will.”

  She continued staring up at him with those unbelievably expressive eyes. Then she abruptly stood on her toes, reached her face up and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. It caught him completely off guard.

  “Thank you,” she said, stepping back and suddenly glancing down, perhaps, he thought, embarrassed. After a brief moment, she looked back up. Her eyes were as brilliant as ever, and there was something new in them, something that made his already rapidly beating heart start pounding furiously.

  She pointed vaguely with one hand and said, “I better go help the others.” And, with that, she stepped past him and walked to the kitchen.

  Nate unconsciously put a hand up to the cheek where she’d kissed him. The feeling of it still lingered. He didn’t mind.

  #

  As he slid into the passenger seat of the SUV and closed the door, Nate noticed again the pockmarked windshield.

  “I’m not sure where we’re going, but I bet we’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”

  Matt chuckled softly as he cranked the engine. “That’s one of the reasons we’re taking this little excursion.”

  Matt backed out the SUV and turned it up the narrow lane that connected the cabin to the small two lane highway they’d last been on a day and a half earlier. The moon had yet to rise, and, with the exception of the pool of illumination cast by the headlights, the darkness around them was complete.

  “I also promised you we’d talk,” Matt added.

  It was what Nate had been thinking as well, and he wasted no time.

  “Who is the man in Patricia’s picture? Don’t tell me it’s Raen.”

  Matt shook his head. “He’s not old enough to have been around back then. No, the man who visited Patricia and her mother, the one who called himself Arthur Spelling, is named Krantz. He’s the director of The Organization.”

  “He was your boss?”

  “No,” Matt said. “Well, technically, I guess, he was for a short time. He took over after my boss died. But it was right when I was retiring, so I never really reported to him. When I started, though, he was working in the field. Pretty senior by then. I was assigned to a couple of action teams he headed. He knew his craft, but I never really cared for him personally.” He glanced over briefly. “I’ll tell you this: The Organization was his life. Still is, as far as I know.”

  “Well, he was part of the operation that killed our father,” Nate pointed out. “And he knows who else was involved.”

  “Yep,” Matt said. “He’s the key.”

  “So, can we get to him?”

  Matt grunted. “That’s going to be tricky.”

  They reached the end of the lane and Matt turned the SUV onto the public road.

  “We’ve got three problems,” Matt said. “First, this guy has resources that,” he paused, thinking. Finally, he said, “Let’s just say they’re unlimited. And that’s no exaggeration.”

  Matt waved a hand indicating the dark nothingness around them. “If they wanted to land a 747 out here in the middle of nowhere, they could. They’d find a way. They have, essentially, an unrestricted budget. You can’t imagine what can be done when money is no object.”

  “Ok,” Nate said. “So we just need to be a little more cost-effective, that’s all.”

  Matt seemed to crack a brief smile. But his expression quickly became serious. “Second, we’re talking about a guy who knows more secrets than God. There’s no way they just let someone like that be exposed. He’s got a whole organization around him that knows the thousand ways you might try to get to someone like him. And it knows a thousand and one ways to prevent it.” After a second, he added, “They’ve been doing this for a long time.”

  “Are you saying we can’t get to him?”

  Matt shook his head. “I’m not saying that. I’m saying it’s not going to be easy.”

  He fell silent, eyes focused on the winding road in front of them.

  After a minute, Nate prompted, “You said there were three problems.”

  Matt took a deep breath. “Yeah.” He glanced over briefly. “The third is the fact that this guy was in the field for a long time. He knows all the tricks. All the dodges. Hell, he came up with a lot of them. Even if we’re able to isolate him, he’ll be very dangerous. We’re going to need something new. Something different.”

  “You got any ideas?”

  Matt seemed to hesitate. Then he said, “Maybe.” There was a new reluctance in his voice. “I’m still working it through.”

  “You’ll share it with me at some point?”

  Another quick smile. “Of course.”

  They drove in silence, the highway snaking through a dense forest, trees packed in on them from both sides. There was no other traffic. It was as if they were the only people on the planet, their world having been shrunk to the cabin of the SUV and the splash of light that preceded them in the darkness.

  Nate wasn’t sure how to broach the next subject. He’d spent time trying to come up with a way to ease into it, to blunt the impact. He’d not succeeded. But he knew it couldn’t wait any longer.

  “We need to talk about Peter,” he said abruptly. “And you.”

  In the dim light, Nate saw Ma
tt’s look tighten. His mouth turned down in a contemplative frown, and small creases appeared along his temple as he squinted his eyes.

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” Matt said after a moment.

  “Like hell there isn’t.”

  Matt didn’t respond.

  “Look,” Nate said, reasonably, “I know it bothers you that Peter’s gay. But, the fact is, he’s…”

  “No,” Matt interjected. “It doesn’t.”

  Surprised, Nate sat back. “What…”

  Matt raised a hand slightly, and Nate stopped. Matt returned his hand to the wheel, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. A long minute passed before he spoke.

  “Not any more,” he said quietly. “At one point, sure. Thing is, I don’t have the first clue why. It was a long time ago. I was eighteen, for God’s sake. I’d like to think I’ve grown a little since then. But,” he added ruefully, “I realize there’s some basis for questioning that.”

  “All right,” Nate said slowly, “so what’s the problem now?”

  Matt laughed, but it was without humor. “Where do I start?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Literally,” Matt said, “where do I start?”

  The question was confusing. Nate opened his mouth to speak, but stopped, considering what his brother had said. Still uncertain, he asked tentatively, “Are you saying you don’t know where to start explaining the problem? Or you don’t know the first step to fix the problem?”

  Matt shifted uncomfortably. “Both, I guess.”

  Unable to hide the anger that suddenly flared, Nate said, “Are you kidding me? Seriously? You ran out on…” Nate paused, taking a breath. “Hell, you ran out on all of us. But mostly you ran out on Peter. He needed you, and what did you do? You gave him the finger. ‘Sorry, pal. You’re on your own.’ Right?”

  Matt started to say something, but Nate was too busy getting worked up.

  “Did you ever stop to think how the news of your death affected Peter? You know him as well as I do. Don’t you think he might have considered himself at least partly responsible? Let me answer that for you. Yeah, he did. He carried that guilt around with him for years. It didn’t matter what I said, or what anyone else said. He figured it would never have happened if he hadn’t come out of the closet. How do you think that played out while he was trying to deal with everything else?”