“Pursuit’s seeing them as well, Kaz,” Michael piped in. “Getting set here to update the computers.”
“Houston copies both.” Kaz looked across at JW. “Doc, you getting their heartbeats?”
JW decided it was good information for the whole room to know. “FLIGHT, SURGEON, we’ve got solid cardio and breathing telemetry from both crew in Bulldog.”
“Let me know if you see anything unexpected,” Gene replied.
Might be really important today, Kaz thought.
Michael had Pursuit’s alignment telescope and sextant set up, ready to mark the data when he spotted the distinct features of the crater and the rille. He was hoping he might get lucky and see the Soviet rover as well. It would be critical info for Chad to use for manual landing.
As Pursuit flew closer, Michael took marks for the computer while looking unblinkingly through the eyepiece. When he passed overhead, he briefly saw glinting tracks in the area and a flash of silver dead center in the target zone. Excellent!
“Houston and Bulldog, Pursuit here. Landing landmark tracking complete, and happy to report that Lunokhod looks like it’s right at the bullseye.”
“Copy, Michael, good to hear. Hopefully won’t be too long a walk for Chad.”
“Bulldog here. I didn’t spot anything through my window, but I’ll set her down as close to Lunokhod as I can, next time we come around.”
Svetlana was listening intently to the exchange. She could have sworn she’d heard them say “Lunokhod” twice, the familiar Russian sounds sticking out amongst the English. Could that be right? Was that their destination? Why were the Americans landing by the Soviet rover?
She scanned her memory for details of the Soviet Luna program, but she didn’t remember much. Focused on her own mission, she’d paid only idle attention to robotic lunar geology research. In the translated planning meeting they’d had the night before, no one had said anything about Lunokhod. Could she have misheard?
She puzzled further. The astronaut in the suit she was now wearing had been carrying bolt cutters when he’d been outside at Almaz. That had shown hostile intent. Was this the second half of that same mission? To damage not only the Soviet orbital station, but also their vehicle on the Moon? She looked around inside the lander. Were those bolt cutters stowed in here? She couldn’t see them, but with the stiffness of the suit, she couldn’t turn her head properly to look everywhere.
She pictured what was going to happen after they landed. They’d said she would descend the ladder and stand on the surface while talking to someone in Moscow. But what would she do if Lunokhod was in sight and the astronaut started heading towards it?
Chad glanced at her and frowned. Why are you looking so intent all of a sudden? He saw her notice his scrutiny and immediately relax her face into its usual impassive mask.
He played back the past minute in his head. Did you understand what we just said? Maybe she spoke English after all, and was just playing dumb. He went through the instructions he’d received about the Soviet rover, then turned back to look through his window at the Moon’s surface below, picturing exactly how it would go.
He was fine, he decided; she couldn’t know his intentions. Even if she realized what was happening, she was weaker—there was no way she was going to stop him.
If there was a battle on the Moon, he would win.
——
It was a long, gradual descent begun in the shadowed silence of the far side of the Moon, the engine slowing Bulldog down, the gentle force of it pushing up through Chad’s and Svetlana’s feet.
Without Luke to assist, Houston had suggested that Chad relay his progress to Michael overhead so someone could double-check every needed action and help with emergencies.
Chad’s voice was clipped and clinical. “H-dot’s a little high. We’re about 2 percent low on fuel.”
Michael thought about it. “Yeah, I undocked you when we were a tad high, so that descent speed makes sense, and matches the burn rate.”
“Concur.”
“How does nav and guidance look?”
“PGNS and AGS compare.” Chad pronounced the navigation acronyms “pings” and “ags.”
“Copy. Looking good, Chad.”
On Bulldog’s instrument panel, two small lights stopped glowing.
“I see the Altitude and Velocity lights are out now, showing a 3,400 delta-H. What do you think?”
Michael was following along in his checklist. “Sounds like the landing radar’s got a good lock on height. I think you can accept the updated 3,400-foot difference it’s giving you.”