Today was different.
With a little luck, they were going to see a spaceship land. Even the cook and waitress from their small canteen were shyly observing from the back.
The group peppered Gabdul with questions.
“Where will we first see it?”
He didn’t know for sure, but said likely they would spot it against the blackness of the lunar sky while it was still flying.
“How did you know which direction to point?”
He said he had made an educated guess, based on the trajectory information they’d sent him from Mission Control in Moscow. When the crowd heard that Gabdul had been talking directly with Moscow, there was a small hush of awe.
“What if it lands behind Lunokhod?”
“Well, then I’ll turn around,” Gabdul answered wryly.
“Why does it take so long to refresh your TV screen?”
“Because it’s not really TV,” he explained. “It’s just still images, and it takes a while to send all the little ones and zeroes across the four hundred thousand kilometers from the Moon to their big dish, outside.”
“When will we see it?”
Good question. Gabdul rechecked the clock and turned up the volume from their Apollo audio receiver. Right on cue, a voice crackled through the speaker on his desk. “Copy, GO for landing.”
One of the geologists who spoke some English had been designated as the group interpreter. The voice from the Moon had been scratchy, but she understood the last word. “Skazali prizemlyayutsya!” They said they’re landing!
A murmur went through the gathering, and they refocused on the monitor. Gabdul’s hand shot out, pointing. “There!” His finger indicated a small blob of light that had appeared on the screen. Everyone leaned forward.
Gabdul mentally counted the 10 seconds until the screen refreshed. When it did, the blob had moved higher in the image, becoming marginally bigger. Each successive refresh made it clearer, until he could start to pick out the shape of the craft. He was closest to the screen, and leaned in.
“Looks like a fat spider,” he said. They heard the radio voice say something else, and waited for the translator, who was struggling with the poor audio quality and the unfamiliar jargon.
“I think he said he has seen something.” She repeated the English sounds in her head, grasping for the words. Suddenly it clicked. “The rover, the rover, that’s us! The astronauts see Lunokhod!”
Wow, Gabdul marveled. We’re looking at each other on the Moon.
The next image was fuzzy, the lunar lander less distinct against the black. The following image was even worse.
“What’s happening?” the interpreter asked.
Gabdul shook his head. He’d feared this. “It’s dust, blown at us by their engine.” He pushed a button to send a command he’d prepared, and the next image was black.
He turned and looked at the faces, all now frowning at him. “I’ve closed the covers over our cameras to protect them from the sharp bits of flying dust. Lunokhod is tough, but I don’t want our lenses to get scratched.” Heads nodded. That made sense. “As soon as we hear they’ve landed, we’ll look again.”
The English voice kept repeating one word, and the geologist interpreted. “He’s just saying ‘Copy,’ over and over.”
There was a long pause, finally broken by a terse statement in English. The geologist spoke excitedly. “Gabdul, open the lens covers! They’ve landed on the Moon!”
Gabdul made a small, fervent wish as he sent the command. I hope we’re pointed the right way!
The signal traveled from his console outside to the enormous dish, sped across the void to the Moon in just over a second and worked its way through Lunokhod’s logic circuitry. Two small motors began spinning, and the circular lens covers slowly pivoted down, out of the way. The camera’s photo receptors gathered the light and sent the digitized raster scan, line by line, back to his console in Simferopol. Once it was assembled, the new image blinked onto his screen.
Everyone in the room made a noise. Some praised God and a couple said “Look at that!” But most just exhaled in wonder.
Gabdul hadn’t guessed perfectly, but on the right-hand side of the screen, where there had been nothing but a flat, monotonous plain, there now stood a spaceship, glittering metallically in the sunlight.
He peered closely at the static image on the screen. It was going to take a while for the Americans to safe their ship, open the hatch and climb outside. So he made a suggestion. “Let’s take a smoke break and go look at the Moon!” The group laughed, but many took his advice to head outside. It was 8:20 on a fine Crimean night, and the Moon was near full. A great way for them to reflect on what had just happened.