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July 16, 1969
7:32 a.m. Mountain Daylight Time
With a blast of fire and ice, Apollo 11 tore away from the launch pad and lumbered upwards into the Florida sky. Though it seemed to be moving slowly, it would actually escape the earth's atmosphere and reach orbit in approximately eleven minutes. Long before that time elapsed, however, it would be beyond the view of the television cameras focused on it.
Miles away, sitting on the floor of the ranch living room, Skip Carmichael kept his eyes glued to the sight of the Saturn rocket as it grew smaller and smaller on the television screen. He tried not to even blink so he wouldn't miss a second of footage. As it finally disappeared, leaving only a dissipating cloud of vapor trail behind, he exhaled noisily, his face breaking into a wide grin.
"All right!" he whooped loudly, forgetting for a moment the early hour and that some people might still be sleeping.
"That was quite a sight," came a voice behind him.
He turned to see Grandma Michaels bearing a tray of fresh cinnamon rolls. The unmistakable aroma of bacon drifted in from the kitchen behind her.
"Hey, Grandma," he greeted happily as he reached for a warm bun. "Wasn't that great!"
"Pretty neat," Andy yawned beside him as he too grabbed from the plate. "But why do they always do these things at the crack of dawn?"
The older woman laughed merrily. "The crack of dawn was a couple of hours ago, my boy."
Andy shook his head of long blond hair and grinned. "Maybe for the roosters."
"It wasn't that early at the Cape," Lee reminded them. He sat up from where he'd been lounging on the couch.
"Oh, don't get him started, Lee," Murphy groaned with a laugh. "Between launch windows and orbital whatchamathingees, my head's gonna fall off."
Skip merely grinned wider as he reached for a pillow and tossed it in Murphy's general direction. The younger boy ducked easily.
"Boys," Grandma admonished lightly, "not in the house."
"Sorry," Skip apologized, then turned to the television again. Jules Bergman was busy explaining some aspect of the launch for the general populace. Things had gone routinely, but in four more days nothing would be routine anymore. That was what Skip was waiting for.
Ever since he could remember, he'd dreamed of going to the moon. Of course, as a child, he'd envisioned himself as the first man there. As he'd grown older and the space program began developing in earnest, he realized that probably wouldn't happen. He'd been disappointed at first, but now, twenty years old and ready to graduate from the Naval Academy, he could watch this historic moment and celebrate the mere fact that it was going to happen. He was confident enough in himself and his own abilities to know that he would get there someday, but for now, he could enjoy this tremendous event without any qualms that he wasn't there with the trio of astronauts.
"I guess that's all that'll be on TV today," a familiar voice groused. Skip winced inwardly as he turned to see Uncle Jake standing there. He'd been up for quite a while and had obviously been hard at work already.
"Now, Jake," his mother reproved, "this is history."
"History," he scoffed disdainfully. He scowled at the television and the image of the launch being replayed there. "It's all a big waste of money, if you ask me," he declared as he followed his mother into the kitchen.
"Yeah, well nobody asked you," Andy commented, not quite loud enough to carry into the other room. "What a jerk," he pronounced emphatically.
"Don't let him bother you, Skipper," Lee advised.
Skip breathed out a big sigh. "I don't think even Uncle Jake can mess today up."
"Maybe he'll spend his whole time outside," Murphy reasoned brightly.
"God, let's hope so," Andy prayed.
"I heard that, Andrew," Grandma Michaels informed them. All four boys turned guiltily to see her standing behind the couch.
"Geeze, Grandma," Andy complained with a laugh. "You shouldn't sneak up on us."
The older woman reached out to rap her knuckle lightly on her grandson's head. "Don't change the subject, young man. You know not to take the Lord's name like that."
"Sorry," Andy apologized contritely. None of them liked to have their grandmother upset with them.
She smiled to let him know he was forgiven. "Jake's eaten and gone out to the barn, so if you wanna come and have your breakfast... we need to get the first shift out of the way before those other lazy cousins of yours drag themselves out of bed.
The boys laughed, knowing Grandma was usually up by dawn and considered anyone who slept past sunrise a slug. They scrambled to their feet, their stomachs growling in response to the delicious blend of aromas coming from the kitchen.
Skip was reluctant to leave the television. He didn't want to miss a bit of the coverage. He knew his cousins had deserted him to go eat, but he still lingered, unable to tear himself away. It was hard to explain, but he didn't want any of this to happen without him. As much as he could, he had to feel a part of this wondrous event.
The tray that suddenly appeared under his nose took him by complete surprise. He looked up from the plate of bacon, eggs and biscuits to see his grandmother smiling her understanding.
"But Grandma..." he sputtered. If there was one unbreakable rule in this house it was no eating in the living room. Even though he was practically an adult now, Skip had grown up with that rule and ignoring it didn't come easy.
"Don't 'but' me," she chuckled. "Seems to me this here trip to the moon might just be a little more important than a messy floor right now." She gave his hand a squeeze. "'Sides, you need to watch this so when you go up there, you'll know what mistakes they made."
Skip felt himself blush and he flashed his grandmother a grateful grin. "I sure hope they don't make any mistakes, Grandma." He turned his attention back to the television and his face grew determined. "But you're right. It'll be my turn some day."
"I know it will, my boy. I know it will."
July 20, 1969
2:17 p.m. Mountain Daylight Time
The atmosphere in the living room was quiet with a hushed expectancy, even though it was filled to overflowing with nearly every member of the Michaels clan. Even the youngest of them seemed to have realized that something of great importance was about to happen. The trio of three year olds -- Scott and the twins, Randi and Russell -- all sat together on the floor, their eyes wide with a sort of confused excitement. The newest member of the family -- little Kathy -- lay sleeping in Kay's arms, oblivious to the whole thing. Landing on the moon meant little to a newborn infant.
Skip was distantly aware of being surrounded by his entire family, but his attention was glued to the television set. He sat on a small corner of the couch, scrunched in between Andy and Lee. Murphy was on the floor in front of them. They hadn't said a word for nearly an hour, as they'd sat and watched the LEM slowly separate from the command module Columbia. Skip had a fleeting moment of sadness for Lt. Colonel Collins, who'd gone all the way to the moon, only to have to stay in orbit manning the mother ship while his two comrades went about making history. Still, he would've gladly traded the man places, even if it meant only staying in the Columbia.
Now, as the LEM navigated its way down to the surface of the moon, Skip found himself mesmerized by the nearly silent descent of the small craft. The only sounds were the muted communication between the astronauts and Houston, accented by the beeps and static of long-distance radio transmitters. Closer and closer the little craft came to the gray dust of the Sea of Tranquility, until at last the spidery legs settled softly.
Houston, Tranquility Base here. The Eagle has landed.
At Armstrong's words, Skip let out a huge breath, only now aware he'd been holding it. All at once the family broke out into a round of cheers, and Skip felt Andy slapping him enthusiastically on the back. He gave his cousin a huge grin, but felt too drained to actually join in the celebration. He sat unmoving, still taking it all in and his cousins knew enough not to bother him.
The family had begun moving around and talking amongst themselves. It would be several hours at least before the men emerged out of their ship to actually walk on the moon. Until then, there was nothing to do but wait.
"When are you going up there, Skip?" came a young voice and Skip finally tore his eyes away from the screen. His youngest brother stood beside him, his eyes questioning. To a ten year old, life was still at its simplest.
"I dunno, Allie-gator." Skip scooted over and pulled his brother down onto the couch next to him. He wrapped his arm around the child's shoulders. "I have to go through flight school and then get accepted by NASA." He shrugged. "It could take a while."
"But how long's a while," Allie persisted. "Don't you know?"
"Not exactly, pal. It could be a few years down the road."
"A few years!" Andy's little brother Kyle broke in from where he hung over the back of the couch. He and Allie were the same age and evidently had the same concept of time. "That's too long. There won't be nuthin' left to explore."
The older boys laughed, but seeing the youngster puffing up indignantly, Skip intervened. "Don't worry. That ol' moon's plenty big. There'll be lots of missions. 'Sides, once we know what we're doing on the moon, there's always Mars and then... who knows?" He grinned in excited anticipation.
"Mars? Wow!" Allie gazed up at his brother in awe. "You're gonna go to Mars?"
As Skip opened his mouth to elaborate, there was a very negative hmmph from the other side of the room. Skip didn't have to look up to know it was Uncle Jake.
"Buncha fools runnin' around in space suits, playing Flash Gordon," Jake complained sourly. "What's the point anyway?"
There were about a million things Skip could have listed as valid reasons for space exploration, but knowing his uncle, the effort would be wasted. He kept his mouth shut, glad when Jake wandered out of the living room.
"Don't let him get to ya," Andy advised. "It won't do any good anyway."
Skip laughed at his cousin's sudden status as self-appointed counselor. "I guess you'd know," he jibed.
Andy snorted and got up to stretch. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I can't sit here doin' nothin'. I'm gonna get somethin' to eat."
"I'll come with you," Lee volunteered. "Ya want anything, Skipper?"
Skip shrugged. "I dunno. Whatever."
"I'll see if Grandma has any 'whatever's' in the fridge," Andy teased.
"Very funny," Skip shot back with a grin. Andy merely laughed as he and Lee left to scrounge in the kitchen. Skip turned his attention back to the television, where Walter Cronkite was recapping the mission success, in the unlikely event someone might have missed it.
After a moment, Murphy spoke up from where he still sat on the floor. "So, how long before they come out?" he asked curiously.
Skip shook his head. "A while, I guess. They've got a lot to do inside first.
July 20, 1969
8:56 p.m. Mountain Daylight Time
A while turned into hours. At first the family had milled about, waiting, until it became obvious nothing was going to happen for quite sometime. Gradually, they went about their business, occasionally popping in to check with Skip. Even his cousins had been unable to sit the entire time, watching the endless simulations and recreations, while the newsmen speculated nonstop about what was to transpire.
Skip hadn't left except for a few unavoidable bathroom breaks. Andy, Lee and Murphy had acted as a food line, keeping him supplied with questionably nourishing snacks. When dinner time had come and Uncle Jake had announced no one who didn't come to the table would eat, the supply line hadn't diminished, it merely became more covert.
Now, however, with the astronauts ready to emerge from the L.E.M., everyone had gathered in the living room again, filling the ranch house with an air of anticipation. Even the ever-skeptic Jake stood in the background, his eyes fixed on the action before them.
Skip's gaze never left the screen. Once more, he tried valiantly not to even blink as the fuzzy image of Neil Armstrong's foot appeared on the metal ladder. Time slowed and each minutes stretched on endlessly with each step the astronaut took. When he pulled the lever that activated the camera on the arm of the L.E.M., the image shifted.
Skip inhaled dramatically as the television now showed a longer shot of the entire side of the spacecraft with Armstrong's suited figure standing on the ladder, merely a few feet from the surface of the moon. Skip felt a hand on his shoulder and vaguely registered his father sitting behind him, but he didn't turn. He couldn't risk missing this moment.
At last, after taking things so slowly, Armstrong let go of the ladder and dropped the last couple of feet. Skip finally let out his breath as the man settled on the moon.
That's one small step for man... one giant leap for mankind.
A raucous round of cheers erupted in the living room. Skip felt himself being pounded on the back by his cousins, but couldn't say a word. He was grinning from ear to ear, but his eyes were filled with tears... his throat too full to risk talking at the moment. The celebration quieted only when a second figure emerged from the spidery craft. In a few moments, Buzz Aldrin had joined his shipmate on the moon's surface.
The family watched fascinated as the two men drifted around the barren landscape. Skip's heart swelled with pride as they erected the American flag, but the moment was ruined by a loud snort from the back of the room.
"Who do they think they're kidding?" Jake growled. "They actually think anybody's swallowin' this hogwash?"
"What're ya talkin' about, Jake?" Grandpa Michaels asked in surprise. There were murmurs from other family members as well.
Jake pointed to the television. "That," he declared. "All that. You actually think there's anybody on the moon?"
"And where do you think they are?" Uncle Clayton asked with a laugh.
Jake scowled at his brother-in-law. "Well, they sure as hell ain't on the moon. Probably some studio out in Hollywood."
Skip felt his eyebrows lift. "Hollywood?" he burst out. "You think this... this is... fake?"
"'Course," Jake answered determinedly. "You know they can do all that stuff with cameras."
Skip began to sputter indignantly, but before he could say anything, he heard Andy guffawing loudly at his elbow.
"That's a good one, Uncle Jake," he laughed. "Don't you think if this was a movie, they'd've made the special effects better?"
Jake scowled darkly at his nephew. "I don't give a damn 'bout what you think."
"Now, wait just a minute..." Katie Travis had started to get up to confront her brother, but her husband's hold on her arm kept her in her seat.
"Everybody, hush now," Grandma Michaels' firm tone quieted her offspring. She stood with hands on hip, frowning. "This is a momentous occasion and I won't have you all fighting and spoiling it."
Skip was grateful to his grandmother. After a few hushed apologies and a gruff murmur from Jake, everyone's attention returned to the television. But he found he wasn't enjoying it quite as much as before. It wasn't what Jake had said. No one would ever take that kind of thought seriously. It was the very fact that Jake wasn't impressed by what these men had done. If his uncle felt that way, then there were probably others who shared his sentiments and that bothered Skip tremendously.
The next couple of hours went by in mostly silence. When the astronauts, after exploring and collecting samples, finally returned to the L.E.M., it was after 11:00 and the family broke up, ready to turn in.
As they headed outside with the other men of the family, Skip found he wasn't ready to sleep. Too much was going through his head. He stopped and felt his cousins halt beside him. He didn't say anything and they waited patiently for his explanation as their fathers, uncles and brothers disappeared into the old bunkhouse.
"Okay, Skipper," Andy questioned, "what's up?"
Skip gave an enigmatic shrug and sauntered off toward the corral, confident the others would follow him. He wasn't even sure himself what he was up to.
They'd reached the barn and he ducked under the fence rails, continuing out into the open pasture. He kept walking until he ran out of steam and flopped down on a pile of hay. As he lay there, his arms folded beneath his head, he felt his cousins settle down beside him.
They were quiet. No words were necessary. Skip was content to lay there, staring up at the stars. The only sound was the insects and other night noises. His emotions were jumbled and he thought it odd that at this high point of his life, he was still feeling a sense of disappointment that he hadn't been the first.
Skip felt a nudge in his rib cage and turned to see Andy beside him. "You'll get there," his cousin assured him, reading his thoughts easily.
Skip suddenly laughed at his own foolishness. "You're damn right, I will."
Cincinnati, Ohio
October 24, 1979
8:30 a.m. Central Standard Time
Andy Travis entered his office and plopped down behind his desk, exhausted already, even though the day had only begun. An early snowstorm had made getting into work a battle and he had no energy left to deal with the problems that were sure to arise at the station.
"Andy?"
WKRP's program director rubbed at his eyes, feeling the beginnings of a headache.
"Andy?"
The voice wasn't going to go away, no matter how hard he tried. He plastered what he hoped was a pleasant expression on his face as he looked up to the doorway.
"What can I do for you, Les?"
The small newsman appeared uncertain as he walked timidly into the office. His hands were full of papers he'd torn off the teletype.
"Andy... I... I got these over the wire just a few minutes ago... but I think maybe it's some kind of joke." Les drew himself up straighter. "The news isn't a joke, Andy," he stated seriously. "Who would do such a thing?"
Andy held out his hand. "Lemme see them, Les." He took the papers and skimmed over them. It took only a moment to read what was happening. He suddenly jumped to his feet, sending his chair toppling and Les stumbling backwards.
"Holy...." He stared at the newsman, his face beaming. "This is incredible. I can't believe it... well, I mean, I can, I just..." He re-read the report, just to be sure. "Les, get this on the air right way."
"You mean this isn't a joke?" Les regarded him in amazement.
Andy laughed loudly. "No way. This is definitely not a joke."
"If you say so." Les took his papers back and disappeared towards the booth.
Andy watched him go, then let out a whoop of triumph. "Way to go, Skipper!"
Los Angeles, California
October 24, 1979
7:30 a.m. Pacific Standard Time
Murphy hung his jacket up on the rack, then settled down behind his desk. He'd come in early this morning to finish up the last few reports he had to do. He took a moment to gaze around the office, then shook his head sadly. Laura's dream had failed. All they had left to do was mop up a few more cases, then that was it. The doors would close forever on Laura Holt Investigations.
He sighed and flipped on the small T.V., wanting to catch the weather report. It had been sunny when he came in, but the forecasters had been calling for rain later. With another sigh, he resumed writing in the file.
"Hey, Murph," came Laura's voice.
Murphy glanced up, his face brightening as if always did whenever his partner was around. "Morning," he greeted.
Instead of heading for her own desk, Laura came over and perched on Murphy's. "Did you hear the wacky news?" she asked with a chuckle.
Murphy shook his head and gestured to the screen. "I just turned it on. What's up?"
Laura shrugged. "I don't know if it was a hoax or not... you know, one of those put on's the D.J.'s like to do. Anyway, some nut in a homemade space ship just took off from a junkyard. They say they're going to the moon."
Murphy's hand froze in the middle of the sentence he was writing. "Junkyard?" He blinked at Laura in disbelief. "What junkyard?"
"One here in L.A.," Laura answered. Her eyes narrowed at his expression. "Murphy... what's wrong?"
It was Murphy's turn to shake his head. "Nothing," he assured her, then felt the smile start on his face. "Absolutely nothing."
Washington, D.C.
October 25, 1979
10:30 a.m. Eastern Daylight Time
Lee Stetson could feel the tension in Billy's office the moment he entered. Something was up, that much was certain, though Lee couldn't for the life of him figure out what he would be called on the carpet for. His last mission had been extremely successful. Oh, sure... there was that little matter of the ambassador's daughter, but, he'd been sure she'd had as much fun as he had. He was positive that wasn't the reason for this summons. Besides, it wasn't just Billy in here. There were a couple of sour-faced goons Lee pegged right away as either N.S.A. or D.O.D.
"Stetson," Billy greeted solemnly. "Thanks for coming in."
"No problem, Billy," Lee returned amiably. He was going to play this casual until he knew what was going on. "What's up?"
Billy's eye's darted to the other men in his office, but before he could say anything one of the strangers stepped forward.
"We need to know what's going on with your cousin." The man's expression remained grim.
"My cousin?" Lee repeated curiously, then couldn't help adding, "which one?"
"Don't get flip," the suit cautioned. "This could spell real trouble for you."
Lee had taken about as much as he was going to. "Well, maybe if you told me what this was all about, I could help you," he informed them sarcastically.
There was silence for a moment, then the man nodded to his companion, who pulled out a small tape recorder. At an unspoken order, he punched the play button.
Attention: World,
This is Salvage One calling from the edge of space...
As the message wore on, Lee felt a grin starting on his face and growing quickly from ear to ear. When it ended, stating the goal of salvaging the moon, Lee let out a delighted whoop and slammed his fist on the desk in front of him.
"He did it!" he cried to no one in particular. "He really did it!"
The man facing him obviously hadn't been expecting that kind of reaction. "Really, Mr. Stetson, I'd think you'd be a little more concerned about this than..."
"Excuse me," Lee interrupted. "I have to go make a phone call." He grinned at his section chief. "Thanks for letting me know, Billy."
With that, he was gone, letting his boss deal with the fallout.