Ray stared out at the stars displayed on the screen. The journey to the moon would take three days. In just over a day and a half they would reach their destination. The take-off had gone just as planned. Ray and the three astronauts had been training for months for the mission. 

They studied the dashboards of equipment in front of them. Up ahead was the viewing panel, displaying a view of what was directly in front of the ship, beamed from the camera at the nose of the craft. The viewing panel had been explained to them as a digital windscreen, but Ray, the chief officer couldn’t help thinking of the science fiction shows he used to watch on TV as a kid. Would Ray and his team see alien ships appear on the screen? He smiled at the thought. Most of the people who worked in the space industry were science fiction geeks who never quite grew up. 

The four of them were alone in the ship, but Mission Control back in Tucson, Arizona were, according to the Space Administration director, with them every step of the way. Out here in the vastness of space, on their lunar expedition, Mission Control seemed such a long way away. 

When they were around ten hours from their destination, the ship started shaking violently. The rattling and banging noises coming from deep in the ship did not sound good. The dashboard control panels started flashing red and beeping. The four space travellers buckled into their seats and tapped away and studied the dials and monitors in front of them. Ray pushed the contact button on the comms panel.

‘Tucson, this is Ring 7. We’re getting a lot of bells and whistles up here. I’m hoping you guys can help us out.’ Ray said.

Ray detailed the exact readings on the display, while Tucson made their own checks based on Ray’s details and their own charts. Ray paused and listened to the chatter of the control room, and tapping of computer keys, from all those miles away. They were hanging on the astronauts’ every word, and they, in turn, depended on the folks on the ground to help on their mission, and eventually get them home. The ship continued to shudder. 

Ray was reminded of a training exercise in which something similar happened. He told himself that this was just as they’d practised back in training, and tried to forget that this was happening for real, out in space, not on the safety of the base, back in Arizona. The actual problem was the same, he thought, and we’ll sort it, regardless of the fact that they were all the way out here, and had no safety net. 

The astronauts used their own judgements and the guidance from Mission Control. They made adjustments on the panels and dials. The clanging and banging brought to mind the noises the boiler in his house made back home. The boiler would make an awful din when the heating first came on. He didn’t think the boiler engineer would come out this far to fix their faulty ship. If they did, the call out fee would be astronomical. He smiled at the thought. 

Eventually, after what felt like hours, their tinkering worked and the noises and vibrations subsided. The four astronauts exchanged relieved glances. 

‘I thought we were going to have to turn back.’ Helen said from her seat next to him.

Roy didn’t share with his fellow astronaut that his worries had been much more severe than having to head home. He shook his head, to clear the doubts from his mind. The ship was running well, once again, and the mission to the moon was back on track.

As the ship neared the pale lunar surface, Ray and the others changed into full space suits. The only conversation was the read-outs of the panels and reporting to Tucson. They steered the ship down towards the surface.

‘This is Ring 7, beginning descent in five.. four.. three.. two.. one.’ Ray said.

As the craft touched down on the lunar surface, Ray gave the message.

‘Mission Control, the beagle has landed.’ 

Across the comms system, the heard the applause and cheers from way back in Tucson.

With his comrades following behind, Ray walked slowly down the ramp. He stepped off the ramp and set foot on the surface of the moon.

The others shuffled out and joined him. They moved with the weightlessness of the moon’s atmosphere. In the practise back at base there had been wires connected to their suits and other gadgets to replicate weightlessness, but this was the real thing. They bounced along the surface, like clumsy toddlers, in their thick suits. They looked at the wonders of the universe all around them. They were scientists, experts in their field, but each of them sensed the magic of the moment. Not many people witnessed the scene that lay before them. Here they were, standing on the surface of the moon, with the Earth in all its glory, in the ink-black starry sky. Ray was reminded of the photographs that the Apollo 11 astronauts had taken back in 1969. Those images were iconic. Ray and the others were making history themselves. 

They spent the next four hours exploring the surface, and taking samples to bring back, for testing back on Earth. When they were done, the astronauts took one last look around, savouring their final few moments, and made their way back to the ship.

The landing back on earth, out in the miles of desert that surrounds the space centre, was bumpy, but no worse than an aeroplane coming in to land in bad turbulence. Ray looked at the others and sighed. They had made it. They were home. Ray couldn’t help the tears in his eyes. Helen nodded, understanding how he was feeling. We’re back, she said. 

They unlocked the doors and pushed and shoved them open. The ship was filled with bright sunshine. Ray and the others peered outside, squinting in the harsh daylight. As the bright world outside became less blurred and swam into focus, Ray could see their welcoming committee, a group of technicians and officials. They applauded and called out, welcome home. 

They were helped off with their helmets, and ushered into the mini-van and whisked back into the base. What happened next was something of a blur for Ray and his colleagues. They changed out of their space-suits into official Space Program tracksuits, and were scanned and tested by doctors for almost an hour. The doctors treated them with such interest that Ray felt like an alien just landed from a far-off planet. They handed over the moon-rock and other samples they had brought back from their trip. These samples were packed into clear plastic bags, as though they were court-evidence, and then sent off to the laboratories.

In the de-briefing, the astronauts went through the details of the mission, right from take-off, and the flight to the moon, to the landing, stepping out on the lunar landscape, then on to the flight back, and descent into the desert. 

There would be a press conference the following day, where the four astronauts and the Space Administration media staff, would address the world’s journalists. As with all space trips, the media was extremely interested in the lunar mission and were eager to here all about it.

In a coffee shop, half a mile away, two men in dark suits were sitting across from each other in a booth. Their names were Carter and Johnson and they were high-racking Space Administration officials. 

‘Are you sure we’re doing the right thing here?’ Johnson asked.

‘How do you mean?’ Carter asked.

‘It doesn’t really sit well with me. It’s one thing faking the moon-landings, we’ve been doing that for half a century, but it’s another lying to the astronauts themselves. Those poor guys actually think they’ve been up there. They think they’ve been to the moon, when they’ve actually been in a simulator, a movie set and then driven out into the desert. It just seems cruel to lie to the guys themselves.’ Johnson said.

‘The less people know about it, the better. And the so-called astronauts are high-profile figures once they’ve been into space, whether its real or not. If we need to keep it from anybody, it’s those most likely to appear on the chat-show circuit and spill the beans. The last thing we need is one of these guys blabbing on the Tonight Show about how it was all a massive cover-up, or taking to social media to reveal the truth. Can you imagine what would happen, if someone on the inside posted about the whole thing being staged? We really can’t take the risk.’ Carter insisted.

‘But to let the people themselves believe they’ve been up there? It just seems like a step too far. Those guys feel like they’ve made history, when they’ve made little more than a movie.’ Johnson said.

Carter said nothing for a long moment, considering what his colleague was saying.

‘I hear what you’re saying. Leave it with me, okay?’ Carter finally replied.

Johnson nodded and thanked him. He downed the last of his mug of coffee, and said he’d see him tomorrow. He slid out of the booth, and headed for the door. 

Carter tugged his tie loose an inch, and reached for his mobile phone.

As he watched, through the window, his colleague crossing the car-park, Carter made the call.

‘We’ve got a problem.’

By Chris Platt

From: United Kingdom