Free The Truth is Dead by Marcus Sedgwick Page A

literally touching tributes have smoothed the once crisply carved letters’ edges: a form of human-made erosion. They will be worn away long before his and Aldrin’s footprints on the windless Moon. The two astronauts have become the icons and inspiration to adventurers and explorers in all walks of life. On that day in July 2009, there were more small personal tributes carpeting the ground than ever, along with official tributes from organizations, “personalities” and nations. The silver-haired man found himself leaning over the red rope and scanning the cards for familiar names.
    Now he turned and walked back towards his car. Seeing him coming, the overweight driver had struggled out of his seat and opened his door for him. The man climbed in. There would be services throughout the US that weekend to remember the only two human beings ever to have walked on ground not belonging to their native planet, their having paid the ultimate price for that privilege.
    The events of 1969 were for ever etched into the silver-haired man’s memory. When he closed his eyes in the back of that car – as the last vestiges of warmth disappeared with the sun – the images were still acid-burnt into his retina, barely faded with time. He could remember everything so clearly. There was a cavernous void in the pit of his stomach.
    He was not one of those who had huddled around a tiny television set at home or at a friend’s or relative’s, as was the experience of so many back then. He had sat alone, waiting like no other.
    It is 20 July 1969 and the world watches, waits and listens as the lunar module Eagle separates from the command module Columbia and – after what seems a nail-biting eternity – lands on the Moon.
    Time passes. Now, bouncing down the ladder of Eagle and onto the Moon’s dusty surface, Neil Armstrong speaks the immortal lines: “One small step for [a] man, one giant leap for mankind” and changes history in a way that it has never been changed before.
    Satellites may have been sent into orbit. Men and women may have flown into space and even have walked in it, but this was the first time a human being had left a footprint on the Moon . The unreachable had been reached. Suddenly a million other possibilities come into flower.
    Suddenly the name of Yuri Gagarin, the first human in space, becomes secondary to that of Neil Armstrong, the first human on the Moon. Until now the space race has not been a proper race at all, with Russia easily winning at every level: first satellite, first person (a man), first woman, first space walk … with the US’s National Aeronautics and Space Administration lagging far behind. Now Russia’s bubble has been burst. All other firsts will be all but forgotten. The rules have changed. Now the US can claim the ultimate prize…
    …a prize about to be tarnished by tragedy.
    After a total of twenty-one hours on the surface, it’s time for Armstrong and Aldrin to leave the Moon and to rejoin Michael Collins, who is orbiting it in the command module. It is 1.54 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time on 21 July 1969 … but nothing happens.
    There is no graceful departure. No arched trajectory through space. Instead, a damp squib and a sinking heart. In Armstrong’s own words, the engines of the module fail to “light up”. Despite repeated efforts on the Moon and suggestions from Houston, the ghastly possibility that the astronauts may be doomed begins to sink in.
    Then it becomes a reality. The module and the men inside are going nowhere.
    Time slows to a standstill.
    The empty hours are filled with mind-numbing speculation. The television is filled with talking heads not really knowing what to say. The world waits.
    Then comes the announcement. The president of the United States of America is about to make an address. People tune in across the globe.
    Waiting.
    They are finally met by an image of a sweating President Nixon seated at his desk in the Oval Office. His voice breaking with