Space Hoax (Hoax Trilogy Book 2)

by Paul Gillebaard

  Narrowing his eyes, Sean hesitantly grabbed Peter’s hand. “Sorry, I don’t remember.”

  Shaking the man’s hand, Peter took a chance. “We talked about the Houston Astros and their dismal season.”

  Sean’s shoulders relaxed as he nodded. “Oh, yeah. Boy, they are sucking, aren’t they? I say it’s because of their pitching rotation.”

  Peter relaxed into his ruse. “Exactly, they better figure that out next season if they want to make the playoffs.”

  Sean nodded. “So what can I do for you?”

  “I need one of the oxygen packs.”

  Sean picked up his clipboard and studied it. “I don’t see anything on here giving the okay for that.”

  Only Chris and Walter had the authority to discharge equipment. “It’s kind of an emergency. We might have a problem with the spacewalk coming up and we need the unit for a simulation.”

  Sean started to pick up the phone. “I need to get Chris Riddick’s approval first.”

  Staying calm, Peter figured there was a 50-50 chance Chris was at his desk. “He’s not there; he’s in the control room observing the mission. You can call him there, but there’s a minor crisis going on and it’s pretty hectic down there.”

  After studying Peter for a second, Sean set the phone back down. “No problem, follow me.”

  Peter smiled, having overcome the hurdle. The clerk punched in a few numbers on the gate’s keypad. As he opened it, he pointed to a cabinet. “The oxygen packs are over there.”

  “Got it, thanks.” Peter walked over and swung open the cabinet, quickly pulling out a unit with an umbilical cord strapped to its side. He studied it for a second to verify it was okay. Once satisfied, he grabbed the pack by its handle. “I also need the adapter for our spacesuits, do you know where that is?”

  “Yeah.”

  As the clerk walked toward a locker drawer, the phone on his desk rang. He stopped as if he was going to go answer it. Concerned the call could be security, Peter motioned in the direction Sean was headed. “I’m kind of in a hurry.”

  Sean nodded as he hustled to the drawer, unlocking it before turning to leave. “Take what you need.”

  Peter called out as the man rushed back to his desk. “I just need one.”

  Peter promptly located the correct adapter. As the clerk answered the call, Peter swiftly passed by while raising both the adapter and oxygen pack to show this was all he was taking. Sean signaled he understood. As Peter exited he overheard, “Yeah, Peter Novak is here.”

  With his location known, Peter had to hightail it out of there. He shoved the adapter in his pocket and raced back to the waiting room, carrying the oxygen pack safely by his side. He noticed the elevator was on its way up before he entered the staircase. The sudden sound of a 2-way radio echoed from below. “Peter Novak is on the second floor of Building 3.”

  Footsteps rushed up the stairs in an insistent cadence. Shit. His only choice was the third floor. He vaulted up the stairs two at a time as quietly as he could. He halted at the door. The footsteps were now mixed in with men’s voices, which he couldn’t decipher.

  He leaped into the third floor waiting room, which was empty and similar to the one below, except there was only a single door. Peter had no idea what was on this level. He flashed his key card across the door pad, but nothing happened. He tried it few more times, still nothing. Damn it, they must have deauthorized it. He studied the lock for a moment to see if he could bypass it, but without the proper tools, he was out of luck. He turned to see the elevator had stopped on the second floor. He was stuck. His only choice was the roof.

  Reentering the stairwell, Peter was startled by a security guard on the lower landing. They locked eyes for a moment.

  “Mr. Novak?”

  Without acknowledging, Peter sprinted up the final flight of stairs, crashing through the rooftop exit. He swiftly scanned the area. His options looked bleak. As he darted across the roof he heard the exit door swing open behind him.

  “Stop, Mr. Novak.”

  Without looking back, Peter reached the building’s edge. He spotted two trash bins thirty feet below. One was full of metal shavings, the other paperwork. He looked back to see two guards fast approaching. He had no choice, he had to jump. He quickly positioned himself over the bin full of paper. He took one last look back at the guards who were now running.

  “Don’t jump!”

  With the oxygen pack by his side, he centered himself perfectly over the bin. He wished himself luck as he leaped, falling in a seated position. Please, no surprises in that bin. The landing was soft, similar to when he used to jump off his bunk bed into beanbag chairs. He struggled to climb through the paperwork and cardboard boxes. He took a swift scan of the oxygen pack, which looked fine. He looked up to see shocked looks on the guards’ faces. It was obvious they weren’t going to jump. As he climbed out, he noticed a big, blue ink spot spreading on his shirt. Damn!

  Peter gave a short wave to the guards as he hopped to the asphalt and sprinted to his car, happy to be carrying Blake’s future lifeline.

  24

  LEARJET

  The sweltering heat was draining Peter as he patiently stood on the hot tarmac at Hobby Airport. The portable oxygen unit was safely by his side along with his backpack on his shoulder. While waiting for the Learjet’s door to open, he looked out toward an old hangar where he used to wash his dad’s plane as a young boy. He smiled as he replayed fond memories of his father purposely misdirecting the hose on hot days to get him wet, which always led to fun water fights. A sudden hydraulic noise grabbed his attention. He turned to see the jet’s door split open like a crocodile gradually opening its mouth, the bottom part with steps falling just short of the ground inches from his feet. A man in a pilot’s snappy white uniform stuck his head out with enthusiasm on his face. “Hello, Mr. Novak.”

  Peter grinned as he climbed the few steps of the newer $10 million plane, turning his head to get a glimpse down the sleek, aerodynamic body colored in a cool, red and white scheme. He was going to enjoy this. A welcome blast of cool air slammed him as he ducked his head and entered. He extended his hand. “Hello there.”

  The man shook Peter’s hand with gusto. “My name is Lon.” He pointed to the oxygen unit and backpack. “Can I take those for you?”

  Peter handed over only the oxygen unit. “Thanks, but I’d like to hold onto the backpack.”

  “Do you have any other luggage?”

  Peter grinned; all he had was the backpack he took to Nevada. Only difference was all the clothes in it were dirty. “Nope, that’s it.”

  Lon gestured toward the cabin. “Please make yourself comfortable.”

  Peter wiped the perspiration off his forehead. “Thanks, Lon.” Before taking his seat, he had to take in the plane’s plush interior. He scanned the elegant, narrow cabin that had seating for six. Three pairs of luxury lounge chairs were positioned in rows with the aisle splitting them, the first two turned backward. Since he was going to be the lone passenger, he had his choice of seat. Other than the black carpet and small, black, glossy tables, the rest of the well-lit interior was in a crisp cool white, like a suave nightclub. The smell of genuine leather filled his senses. He turned to Lon. “This is very nice.”

  “I am glad you approve. Can I get you a cocktail before taking off?”

  Peter figured what the hell, his throat was parched anyway. “Sure, a beer would be great.” He assumed the second man in the cockpit was the commander. He boldly stuck his head in. “Hello.”

  The man turned and extended his hand. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Novak.”

  Peter shook the man’s hand as he examined the impressive control panel. “Any chance I’ll get to fly this baby?”

  The pilot spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “How about you just sit back and enjoy the luxuries this plane has to offer?”

  Peter took that as a nice way of saying, no. “Got it, will do.” He started working his way down the slim aisle in a slightly crouched
position. The plane was designed for speed, not roominess. He selected one of the seats aimed forward. Soon Lon was walking up with a beer in hand, a white cocktail napkin underneath. He had an odd look as he stared at Peter’s shirt. “Do you need a wash cloth or anything?”

  Peter grabbed the beer before looking down at the big, blue stain splattered all over his white polo shirt. He had forgotten about the mess. “Oh, don’t worry, it’s dry. I had a little accident.”

  “Got it. Well, Mr. Harmon wants you to enjoy yourself. Whatever you need, just let me know.”

  Peter assumed that was the plane’s owner. “Will do.”

  As Lon went about storing the oxygen unit, Peter settled in and enjoyed the ice-cold beer. A sly smirk crossed his face as he looked back down at the ridiculous stain, knowing he was lucky to be onboard the jet after escaping EarthOrbit with the oxygen pack. He was pleased he didn’t damage it, confirming it was operable before boarding the jet. If only the guards knew he was stealing the unit to save one of their own.

  Soon Peter was pushed back in his seat by the plane’s muscle as it smoothly cut through the thick Texas air at an aggressive rate of climb, its powerful engines humming in the background. As the pilot put the plane in a sharp bank, Peter looked out over southern Houston in the direction of his home. Guilt washed over him as he thought of Anya. He wished he could have stopped by before taking off, if even for just a quick hug. But there wasn’t time. Damn, she didn’t even know I was in town. He needed to give her a call.

  He pulled out his phone and dialed up Anya.

  “Hello,” she answered in a soothing voice, putting him at ease.

  “Hey beautiful.”

  Her tone became lively as her voice vibrated out of the receiver. “I sure hope you’re on your way home. Guess what I’m wearing?”

  Peter let himself get a little excited with that question as he allowed his mind to go wild. “My favorite high heeled boots with fishnet stockings?”

  Anya giggled. “Well I know where your head’s at, which isn’t such a bad thing. Sorry, but no. I got off work early today to buy a dress for the White House. I’m trying it on now.”

  Peter felt bad the visit wasn’t going to happen as planned. He didn’t feel right blurting it out right away. Instead, he imagined her checking herself out in the new dress in front of their full-length mirror.

  She broke the silence. “Though I went for elegant, I kept it on the sexy side just for you.”

  “I bet it’s beautiful.” Peter got an idea. He had a photo of Anya on his last two missions. Why break the tradition now? “Do me a favor—take a picture and send it to my phone. I want to see it.”

  “Okay, hold on.”

  Peter looked out the window as he visualized her taking the picture. He thought of jokingly asking her to go put on the boots and stockings instead, but any X-rated picture would only distract him in space.

  “Okay, sent.”

  “Just a sec.” Peter brought up the snapshot. A broad smile instantly emerged. As expected, she looked stunning. The stylish dress was red and form fitting. “I love it. You look gorgeous.”

  “You’re sweet, thanks. So it sounds like you’re on a plane. Are you on your way home?”

  Peter rubbed his hand up and down his leg. He felt it best to be vague. “I am on a plane, but unfortunately it’s not taking me home.”

  Her tone lowered with disappointment. “How come?”

  “I was put on a new assignment, and as you know, I can’t elaborate. Sadly, we’ll have to postpone the White House visit, but I promise that dress won’t go to waste. I should be home next week.”

  Frustration resonated from her voice. “I guess this is what I should expect if I’m going to be married to Mr. James Bond.”

  “Remember, Double-O 14.”

  “I remember. I just hope that doesn’t mean double the missions.”

  “Nope, just double the man.”

  “THAT DAMN AMERICAN keeps slipping through our fingers,” Kuang barked. Ming had just informed him that Peter Novak had escaped certain capture at the headquarters of the American space company. Kuang pounded his fist hard on his desk. This man had become a pest he wanted to crush. “I want that man killed!”

  Ming bowed his head. “Yes, sir.” He slowly lifted. “Sir, you should also be aware of something else.”

  Kuang’s face tightened as he shot the small man an intense stare. “What?”

  The assistant director spoke in a timid voice. “Novak stole a portable oxygen unit.”

  Kuang launched to his feet, causing his chair with its small wheels to slam hard against the wall behind him. “He’s going to try to save those men. I know it.”

  Ming gave an affirmative nod. “MSS concurs with your assessment, though they doubt he will be able to launch into space.”

  “Don’t underestimate that man. He almost singlehandedly exposed our moon operation to the world.” Kuang pointed to his assistant. “I want you to inform me of any rocket launched out of the United States. I’m sure he has some plan on how to foil Tianlong. He must not succeed. Our careers depend on it!”

  PETER FELT THE pressure as he ended the call with Gavin. His boss gave him an ultimatum, save the astronauts within thirty-six hours or the CIA would storm EarthOrbit’s facility. Such action would certainly be a death sentence for his friends on the Iris. After updating Gavin on his idea of flying the Newton rocket, it was obvious the SID director was uncomfortable trying a rescue while a bomb was floating around in orbit. After Peter assured Gavin that the men were not scheduled to rendezvous with the ISS for two and a half days, his boss relented and gave him the firm deadline. Gavin stressed that America had too much to lose to risk the station being destroyed. Peter understood.

  Peter now had to come up with a plan. He took the last sip of beer before taking out a notepad and pen from his backpack. He started jotting down notes. If China was behind the operation, they would unquestionably be monitoring Space Quest’s rocket and any communication associated with the flight. Since there were supposedly only test dummies on board, he would have to stay in a radio blackout. He would be able to listen to mission control, but not able to respond. This presented a challenge when he rendezvoused with the Iris spacecraft. How would he be able to inform the men that there was a bomb on board? The men would need at least twenty minutes to don their spacesuits before evacuating, giving China plenty of time to detonate the bomb if radio silence was broken.

  Peter scratched his head as he tried to come up with some way of communicating with the men. EarthOrbit was not using America’s network of communication satellites, known as the TDRS system, for radio communication. If they did, he could have communicated with the Iris crew during the short blackout period that occurs during each orbit as their spacecraft pass through the Zone of Exclusion, the point when they would be out of contact with any of the network’s satellites. EarthOrbit had full coverage around the Earth with no gaps.

  He also had to worry about the astronauts saying too much over the radio. He was sure the commander would notify mission control once he spotted the spacecraft approaching. Peter hoped SpaceQuest’s earlier public announcement on why they were there would prevent any concern. They were there to show off. He just had to make sure Jesse didn’t tell mission control the spacecraft next to them was manned. China would interpret that as a rescue mission.

  Peter looked back out his window. Come on, Peter, you can figure this out. As he stared out over the clouds, the small wing tip sticking up slightly blocked his view. Then it hit him. What if he could take out Iris’s main antenna? If he was able to do this, the crew would be forced to use the backup omni antenna built into the ship’s body, which he could overload with transmitted noise. But with their only line of communication disrupted, how would he be able to correspond with the men to tell them what was going on? Damn, this is a maze of challenges.

  He stared back outside. The red navigation light at the end of the wing caught his eye. He gazed at th
e beaming beacon for a moment, transfixed by its bright color. The light quickly flickered, as if it shorted for a second. The odd occurrence triggered an idea. I could communicate by Morse code with a flashlight through the window.

  Peter smugly straightened up in his seat and wrote down some notes of his plan. As an ex-Navy SEAL, Jesse would know the old military code. Once the commander was informed of the situation, Peter could stop overloading their antenna so Jesse could notify mission control everything was fine.

  Peter still had a major obstacle. How was he going to take out the main antenna? He pulled away from the widow and leaned back in his seat. He stared at the lounge chair across from him. His only option seemed to be to take control of Galileo earlier than scheduled and use it to snap off the antenna on Iris. Of course, the ship wasn’t designed to crash into objects. Any such action could fatally damage the craft. Peter closed his eyes as he visualized Galileo, trying to determine the best location for the point of impact. Using any part of the vessel that would be returning home was too risky. He could possibly use the backend trunk, which would be discarded before re-entry. However, this would be a tough maneuver with both solar arrays extended from the sides. He shook his head; no matter how good a pilot he thought he was, pulling off such a stunt without damaging the solar arrays on either craft was practically impossible.

  He opened his eyes as Lon walked toward him holding a serving tray against his body. That’s it! The Galileo was equipped with the Whipple Shield, positioned at the front of the craft to protect the ship from dangerous space debris. Perfect.

  Lon interrupted his thoughts. “Can I get you another beer?”

  Peter looked up. “That would be great, thanks.”

  As Lon reached down and took the empty bottle, Peter began reviewing the idea in his head. Though challenging, his crazy plan just might work. Taking out the antenna with the disposable shield located in the front of the ship would definitely be a tricky maneuver, especially having only one shot. If he was just slightly off, he could damage their ride home, but this seemed to be his only option. Of course, he would have to keep his scheme a secret. Allen would never go along with any plan that threatened his spacecraft.