Parham nodded. “I’m honored to assist.” JW had rolled an extra chair over from the SURGEON console for him, and Kaz waved for the chaplain to sit, plugging in a headset for him.
Kaz looked at the clock and the TV image of the two suited figures receding into the distance. “We’ll get started in a couple minutes. We’d like you to keep it short, please, but by the book.”
The chaplain nodded again, pulling folded papers from his breast pocket and smoothing them on the console. “Understood.”
“Houston, we’re almost at the rim, will get set up.” Chad’s voice sounded labored in their headsets. Wheeling the suited body had been more cumbersome than he’d expected, and they’d had to stop a few times to recenter it on the cart.
“Copy, Chad, let us know when you’re ready.” INCO zoomed the TV camera in as far as it would go; they could just see the two small, toy-like figures moving against the horizon.
Chad set the handle down, letting the cart’s two front legs stabilize the weight, balanced just at the point where the slope steepened towards the pit. He reached into one of the cart’s stowage bins and retrieved a thick white bundle with two heavy locking hooks. He attached one to a fabric tether ring on the Russian suit’s hip, and the other to the attachment bracket on the front of his own suit. Reaching under the body, he pulled out the flag and unrolled it, laying it across Luke’s chest. He leaned left and right, looking at the slope and visualizing his actions.
“Houston, Luke’s in position, and we’re ready.”
Kaz gestured to the chaplain and they stood together, the rest of Mission Control following suit. The comm loops went quiet.
Kaz pressed his mic button and spoke, his voice reaching into all back rooms, and to Chad and Svetlana on the Moon. The orbiting Pursuit ship had just reappeared from around the far side, and Michael was quiet and listening as well.
“All hands bury the dead.” The traditional call for ships to stop engines, and to lower flags to half-mast.
Chaplain Parham took his cue and read from Scripture. “I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.”
He paused and looked up at the TV image of the lonely figures on the Moon. He’d decided to change the traditional prayer’s words slightly.
“We therefore commit Captain Luke Hemming’s body to the depths of space, to be turned into corruption, looking for the resurrection of the body, when the Universe shall give up her dead, and the life of worlds to come, through our Lord Jesus Christ. Who at his coming shall change our vile body, that it may be like his glorious body, according to the mighty working, whereby he is able to subdue all things to himself.”
His quiet “Amen” was echoed by voices throughout Mission Control, and 240,000 miles away by Chad and Michael. Svetlana silently mouthed her own amen, thinking of her crewmate, Andrei Mitkov, his body all alone, orbiting the world next to Almaz.
Kaz spoke as if on parade. “Atten—shun.” He paused to give the moment its significance, then said, “Chad, you can commit Luke’s body to the deep.”
Chad lifted the flag off the body, handed it to Svetlana and with a quick two-handed motion tipped the cart abruptly to push Luke towards the pit, careful to keep his tethered line clear. The body arced several feet through the vacuum and fell to the surface halfway to the rim, rolling to a stop. Chad followed his previous footsteps out towards the promontory, unclipping the line from his suit, holding it clear in both hands. He turned to get good leverage and gave a sharp upwards tug. The body lifted and tumbled several more feet down the slope and stopped just short of the edge.
Chad eyed the footing and the angles, and walked back to the cart. He took two tethers out of a pocket, clipped them together lengthwise and attached one end to himself. He turned and quickly clipped the other end to the metal loop on Svetlana’s suit. He beckoned for her to follow and started walking back towards the edge.
She held her ground, jerking him to a stop. She raised her visor and shook her head vehemently no.
Chad grabbed the tether in both hands and yanked, pulling her off balance, making her stumble towards him. He followed his tracks, tugging her onward to keep her from getting her feet set. She deliberately took a large hopping step and landed with one foot forward, the other behind her for stability, and stopped moving.
How crazy is he? She shook her head at him again. Bad enough that he falls into the pit, but to drag me too?