I’ll sleep when this is over.
“Transmission test, transmission test, how do you hear me?”
It was after midnight, and the Moscow Mission Control team was tired. Michael Esdale was finally napping, now that he had safely gotten his craft into lunar orbit. Despite the late hour, Chelomei had insisted on patience to ensure that Esdale was truly asleep, so he could send a message that would be heard by Miller alone. Out of extra caution, he’d decided to use the same innocuous call, and repeated it in deliberately bored Russian.
“Transmission test, transmission test, how do you hear me?” He listened for any response and glanced at the timer on the front screen. Just two minutes left before the ship would disappear behind the Moon. He decided it was worth the risk to assume Major Miller was hearing him and say what needed to be said.
“Listen to me carefully. We have your brother, Ilarion, here, and want him to remain safe. You will hear his voice tomorrow. Once you are on the Moon, we will brief you and Gromova with the exact details of what is needed.” Chelomei had reasoned that she would have to be listening while they were in their spacesuits.
“If you understand, click your mic twice.” The clock showed one minute before they lost signal.
Long seconds ticked by. Nothing.
Finally, click, click.
A slow, Cheshire cat smile spread on Chelomei’s face. “We hear your response, and will talk to you tomorrow.” He decided to dig in the knife slightly. “Sleep well.”
In Houston, Kaz frowned. That’s the second time I’ve heard that. He decided to check.
“18, Houston, did you call?”
Chad responded with palpable irritation. “No, we didn’t call. We’re trying to stay quiet, to let Michael sleep.”
“Copy, apologies.” Kaz kept his tone contrite, but he looked back at Gene Kranz and shrugged. They’d both heard the clicks.
“INCO, any idea where that sound came from?” Gene asked.
The communications operator was studying his displays. “Looks like from Pursuit, FLIGHT. Maybe they just bumped the switch.” It was lame, but he couldn’t see any other explanation.
“Copy, but let’s keep an ear out for any recurrence,” Gene said. “We don’t need any more surprises in the comm system.”
Kaz nodded along with INCO, but he was bothered. Clicking the mic twice was something pilots only did on purpose. But Chad had denied it. Was Michael awake and trying to get Kaz’s attention? Why would he do that? Was it the cosmonaut? Or was there something going on with Chad?
In TsUP, the interpreter had translated Miller’s irritated response to Houston.
Good boy, Chelomei thought. But he was going to have to be extra careful. He didn’t want to make the Americans suspicious, at least not until after he had achieved his aim.
An idea popped into his head, and he smiled, tiredly. He had a better plan for next time.
41
Mission Control, Houston
“Everyone listen up, this is the Flight Director.”
Conversations ceased in Mission Control, and faces turned to look at Gene Kranz, standing behind his console.
“Another excellent day, people. We’re in lunar orbit with healthy spaceships, and have the landing and moonwalk tomorrow.”
His eyes sought out each console operator as he spoke: “The crew needs to get some rest now, but so do you. After you all hand over to the night shift, I want you to head home and get a well-deserved sleep. I need you at the top of your game tomorrow. Sweet dreams, and see you in the morning.”
Kaz leaned back to catch JW’s eye. “U-Joint for a burger, Doc?”
JW smiled. “Outstanding plan.”
Kaz had already called Laura, and spotted her Beetle as he drove into the bar’s parking lot. Despite Gene Kranz’s urging that they all have a quiet night, the lot was filling rapidly. As he walked through the swinging doors, he saw her waving, two fresh bottles of beer and a coffee on the table in front of her.
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eye,” Kaz joked as he sat.
She laughed and handed him his beer, raising hers in a toast, then shut one of her own eyes, appraising. “You look good too, in mono or stereo.”
He rubbed his head and took a long, appreciative swig. “I look like a guy who was ready for this beer.”
“I ordered us burgers.” She spotted JW coming through the doors and waved him over. “One for the doc too.”
“And they say cosmochemists aren’t empathetic.”
JW sat with a tired sigh. He nodded thanks for the coffee and took a sip, cradling the mug in his hands. “We three have a big day tomorrow,” he said.