Kaz nodded, suddenly thinking about the double clicks on the radio.
As Al turned to head back to Mission Control, Kaz asked him to wait. The recent discovery on the Moon had made him think of something else, and he quickly outlined his plan.
Al blinked several times, considering, and then nodded decisively. “Good idea, Kaz. Just need to call Vice Chief Mo Weisner, get his blessing from the Joint Chiefs. I’ll do that, and you talk to FLIGHT and the EVA team.”
48
Le Monnier Crater
As Chad climbed Bulldog’s ladder, moving the two bags of geology samples up into the cabin, the conversation with the White House was playing over and over in his head. The president of the United States had called him by his first name and invited him to the White House! A long way from the Wisconsin farm. Even farther from Berlin. So what if the Soviets had driven their rover into the shot. Having it nearby just gave him more opportunity to disable it, and then they could blame any damage on the rocket blast at liftoff. Idiots. The Russians had played right into his hands.
He put the rock he’d retrieved from under Lunokhod by itself in a bag normally used for in-cabin tools, clipped into place under the computer entry panel. No one but him knew it was there. Then he moved the two duffels to the racks in the back, transferring the samples into hard-sided vacuum-sealed sample containers. He wedged the bolt cutters inside one of the empty duffels, happy that they just fit. He zipped the bag closed, checked that the cosmonaut was clear below and chucked it out onto the surface.
Now for Luke, and the new plan.
Houston had offered some suggestions for getting the body down to the surface, but Chad had decided to keep it simple. In the lighter Soviet suit, Luke only weighed 30 pounds on the Moon. Like picking up a medium-sized dog. No sweat.
But he didn’t want Houston to watch.
He shifted the body forward along the floor until his feet were sticking out through the hatch, then reached up and pulled the TV circuit breaker. He bent and pushed Luke through, tucking the arms in and watching as the body slipped over the edge and fell, guided somewhat by the ladder. He quickly climbed down himself, finding Luke doubled over in a heap at the base. Svetlana watched as he straightened the body out and then climbed the ladder again, pushing the breaker back in.
Gene Kranz frowned as the TV image dropped out again. He waited for the team to diagnose the problem and tell him about it, and was about to push the button to ask, when the camera signal came back. As the image reappeared, he could see two suited figures standing beside a large bag on the ground. It took him a few seconds to recognize it as Luke’s body, in the Soviet suit.
“FLIGHT, INCO, we had another TV camera dropout, but you can see it’s back now. All indications normal, no action recommended.”
“Copy, INCO, glad it didn’t happen during the event with the President.”
Kaz, seated at the console, quietly guessed what had actually happened. In Chad’s place, he wouldn’t have wanted a video record of the body tumbling down the ladder either.
Surprised, Svetlana had watched the astronaut push the body in her old spacesuit through the hatch, and had stayed clear as it had tumbled in slow motion down the ladder. Maybe Americans were less prissy than she’d thought.
Chad was now beckoning her towards the body. She glanced up at the Earth; the Soviet Union had rotated out of view.
She was on her own. Might as well help.
She joined him, and together they reached underneath the body, lifting, shuffling sideways and centering it crossways, face up, on the handcart.
Chad tapped on Svetlana’s suit and pointed to Luke’s feet, dangling almost to the ground. He motioned her to grab them, and walked around to the handle. He lifted it in one hand, glanced back and started walking. Past Lunokhod.
Towards the hole. Where the Americans now wanted their dead astronaut buried.
Standing by the door of Mission Control, the Navy officer’s dark-blue dress uniform stood out, the heavy brass buttons glinting in the fluorescent light. His escort waited until the Flight Director waved them in, and then walked him up to Kaz at the CAPCOM console.
“Commander Zemeckis, this is Navy Chaplain Lieutenant Parham, serving with the Galveston Coast Guard.” Duty complete, the escort nodded, turned and retreated.
The chaplain smiled apologetically, holding his white flattop hat under his arm. “Lieutenant junior grade, actually, sir,” pointing at the thick and thin bars with the stylized cross on his sleeve.
Kaz smiled an acknowledgment. “That’s okay, I’m only a lieutenant commander. And call me Kaz. Thanks for coming on short notice. Did they brief you on what we’re doing?”