Shepard raised his head. “Thanks, fellas,” he said, as they all turned to face him. He started to count points off on his fingers. “We’ve already kicked off the accident investigation, and we’ll need an astronaut on that. I’m designating you, Bean”—Al Bean, a moonwalker on Apollo 12, nodded—“as you were in on Cernan’s investigation.” Astronaut Gene Cernan had survived a helicopter crash two years previously while flying too low at Cape Canaveral. Bean had helped dig out the cause of the accident while maintaining Cernan’s astronaut career. Shepard had appreciated it.
He touched a second finger. “Luke’s with Tom’s family, but as of today I need him to focus on nothing but Apollo 18, so, Kaz, I’m asking you to take over as CACO.”
Kaz said, “Will do.”
A third finger. “Gene was right. We need a new crew roster for 18, and we need it now. We’ve done the same thing after other training crashes, and after the Apollo 1 fire, and when TK was grounded for 13.” Astronaut TK Mattingly had been inadvertently exposed to the measles three days before launch, and his place on Apollo 13 had been taken at the last minute by his backup, Jack Swigert.
“The MOL astronauts don’t really work for me,” Shepard said, “but I’m sure Washington and the Air Force are going to listen to what I recommend.” He looked first at Chad Miller and then at Michael Esdale. “This close to launch, it’s gonna be easier on everyone if we don’t do a full crew swap. So my call is that Luke and Michael are still the crew, and the commander of Apollo 18 will now be Chad.”
Chad’s face remained impassive, but Kaz could see the rush of excitement in his eyes. All the new commander said to Shepard was “Thanks, Al.”
“At my direction, the training team is already revamping the flow from here to launch,” Shepard said, “to make sure Chad, Luke and Michael get exactly what they need. The helos will be grounded for a while, but otherwise we’ll carry on with training and sims. The crew goes to the Cape on April 26, so that gives us”—all 13 eyes turned to look at the wall calendar—“ten days here at MSC.” He looked at each man individually. “Any questions?”
They were military men. A death had occurred, they had acknowledged the loss, and now they had their new orders. They all shook their heads.
“All right then,” Shepard said. “Let’s get Apollo 18 ready to fly.”
14
Timber Cove, Houston
“How do you want to handle this, Kaz?”
JW was in the passenger seat of the Satellite, thumbing through the folder of papers that Tom Hoffman had filed with the Astronaut Office in case of death.
Kaz took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I’ll take the lead. We need to free up Luke to get back to work, make sure that Margaret is coping as well as can be expected—a big reason I asked you to come with me—and answer any questions she has about what happened and what’s going on.”
JW nodded, still scanning through the folder. “I’ve met Margaret a few times, and seen her boy and girl once when they came to the clinic.” He looked across at Kaz, his face grim. “A lousy day.”
Kaz turned off NASA Road 1 onto Kirby, and arced right on Old Kirby Road. The astronauts all tended to live in the three new waterfront neighborhoods that had been developed when the Spacecraft Center was built. The Hoffmans had chosen Timber Cove, and their snug cinderblock bungalow fronted on Taylor Lake. Kaz parked at the side of the road under some live oak trees, noting Luke’s car in the driveway behind Margaret’s station wagon.
They rang the doorbell, and Luke answered. The house was quiet and dimly lit. He led them into the living room, where the large bay window faced the brown bayou waters of the lake. The furnishings reflected the life the Air Force had given Tom: mismatched but comfortable sofa and chairs, a blond chestnut side table and folding screen from a tour in Okinawa, walls hung with smiling pictures of flying and family. A large mahogany stereo hi-fi and TV was against the paneled wall. Sitting on it was a wedding photo of Margaret in white and Tom in ROTC blues, the two of them young and laughing, ducking under an arch of raised swords.
Margaret was seated on the sofa, staring across the lake. Her eyes were red, but she wasn’t crying now. She had her arms around her two children, who were tucked as close as they could get to her. The elder child, a girl, was crying quietly. The little boy was asleep. Margaret didn’t seem to notice Kaz and JW come in.