Transformers Dark of the Moon Read Online Free Page A

going to want to weigh in, and the sooner we get Bell on board, the better. But we minimize this thing, Bob. ‘Need to know’ is our watchword. Well … watchwords.
Nobody
can know that
this
is the impetus for what I’m going to be proposing. Not even Lyndon.”
    “Have you considered, sir,” McNamara pointed out, “that Lyndon—or even someone else—may be sitting in that chair when it actually happens? It could take twenty years …”
    “We don’t have twenty years. And if we did, and someone else is in this office when it happens, then I’ll wait until the men are approaching the moon and I’ll tell the president myself.” He stared at the papers atop the desk. “This is not an easy endeavor we’re discussing, Bob. This undertaking … it’s on par with the effort that went into the building of the Panama Canal. Or the Manhattan Project.”
    “Yes, sir. On the other hand, for all we know, whatever’s landed on the moon could wind up making the A-bomb look like a firecracker.”
    Kennedy nodded with a smile that was anything but mirthful. “Which brings us back to weapons on the moon. Suddenly seems a little less paranoid than I would have thought.”
    “Yes, sir,” said McNamara, who had been thinking exactly the same thing.

vi
    On May 25, 1961, before a special joint session of Congress, President John F. Kennedy gave what he considered to be the single most important speech of his presidency, if not his life. Only a handful of people truly understood the subtext of what he was discussing, and they were sworn to secrecy under threat of treason.
    One of them was Aaron Brooks. He sat with his arm draped around Carla Spencer, who nestled against him on the couch, listening attentively.
    “First, I believe that this nation should commit itself to achieving the goal, before this decade is out, of landing a man on the moon and returning him safely to the earth. No single space project in this period will be more impressive to mankind, or more important for the long-range exploration of space, and none will be so difficult or expensive to accomplish. We propose to accelerate the development of the appropriate lunar spacecraft. We propose to develop alternate liquid and solid fuel boosters, much larger than any now being developed, until certain which is superior. We propose additional funds for other engine development and for unmanned explorations—explorations which are particularly important for one purpose which this nation will never overlook: the survival of the man who first makes this daring flight. But in a very real sense, it will not be one man going to the moon—if we make this judgment affirmatively, it will be an entire nation. For all of us must work to put him there.”
    Neither of them dared say aloud what was going through their minds, because they had had hammered into them, by no less than Director Webb himself, the necessity of keeping silent about the impetus for what they were hearing. Let the rest of the world believe that this was in response to the Russians. But Brooks and his people, they knew better.
    Still, the matter could be addressed without actually being addressed.
    “Do you think they’ll go for it?” she asked.
    “I certainly hope so,” Brooks said. “Because I’m telling you right now: I don’t think we can afford
not
to.”

HOUSTON, TEXAS—
JULY 20, 1969

i
    “I’m at the foot of the ladder. The LM footpads are only depressed in the surface about one or two inches, although the surface appears to be very, very fine grained, as you get close to it. It’s almost like a powder. The ground mass is very fine.”
    The voice of Neil Armstrong paused. In Mission Control in Houston—in a large room filled with technicians, engineers, and the best and brightest the aerospace industry had to offer—everyone was quiet, tense, and focused on the job at hand. They were all too aware of the weight of history pressing down upon them. No one wanted to be the one