Outside his operations building, the huge dish antenna was tipped up on its edge, pointed at the exact place on the southeastern horizon where the Moon was about to appear. As the three-quarter crescent wavered into view through the Earth’s atmosphere, the first set of commands pulsed out through the amplifiers, bounced off the huge parabolic dish and raced to the Moon. Just 1.35 seconds later, the faint signal washed over Lunokhod’s receiving antennas.
The long, bulbous high-gain receiving antenna missed it completely. Even with Svetlana’s attempt to bend it back, the tightly focused receptor was no longer pointing in the right direction. But the smaller omni antenna turned out to be sturdier. It dutifully collected and passed on the commands from Earth, and Lunokhod came to life, the mechanical beast readying for its day’s work.
Sitting at her console behind Gabdul, the antenna operator frowned. There was no systems signal coming back from the steerable high-gain antenna. It had been working perfectly the day before. She sent a test command for it to go through a search cycle, but nothing. Without the high-gain, they could only get limited, low-rate data back.
Beside her, the specialist engineer felt growing alarm as well. As the new data populated in the systems table on his screen, he saw that the temperatures were far higher than they should have been, with a couple already approaching limits. Both technicians spoke at the same time, summarizing what they were seeing.
Gabdul listened, his concern increasing. How could they have lost the high-gain and thermal control at the same time? Had his bouncing race across the surface broken something? The team rapidly pulled out schematic drawings, hunting for a common link. More importantly, looking for a solution. The internal temperatures were climbing alarmingly.
The systems engineer, looking closely at the data, recognized the pattern, but it made no sense. “It’s as if the solar panel is closed over the radiator—we’re getting near-zero cooling. But we’re getting power from the array, which shows open, so that’s not it.” He looked at Gabdul. “Maybe the Americans already blasted off and covered us in dust?”
“They’re not supposed to take off for a few more hours,” Gabdul said, then asked the question that worried him. “Could our high-speed run or their moonwalking have kicked up enough dust to cause this?”
“Unlikely, but possible.” The tech studied his data. “But if we don’t do something soon, we’re going to start losing systems.”
Gabdul stared at his TV monitor. The small omni antenna had a very low data rate, and images were going to process very slowly. Whatever he did, it was going to have to be mostly blind. He made a decision and quickly briefed the team. He got reluctant nods from everyone; his proposed course of action was risky, but worth it, given the reality of what was happening.
Gabdul put his hand on the controller and began.
Chad kept his eyes closed after he woke up, listening for a minute to the reassuring mechanical sounds of the LM—the fans and pumps that were cycling the life-support systems, keeping him alive in this little bubble of air on the Moon. Like I’m in a womb, listening to my mother’s heartbeat.
As he’d slept in the hammock, comfortably slung in the low gravity, he’d been dreaming of his mother, a familiar dream that he both longed for and hated. Oleg, his brother, pushing to do something, his mother in faded colors, her voice conveying more of an emotion than actual words. The three of them had been in a room somewhere in Berlin, Oleg demanding, their mother quietly urging caution. Even now, as he opened his eyes, he could feel the soothing effect of her loving voice. And the jagged unfairness of losing her.
And Oleg. What had happened to the tough, decisive older brother he remembered and dreamed of? The war and loss had somehow changed him, made him soft, turned him into this monk, Father Ilarion. Who was now being threatened by the Russians, and used as a lever against him.
He glanced at his watch. Time to get up.
He rolled onto his shoulder and reached to peel back the covering on his triangular window, letting harsh sunlight blast into the cabin. He leaned to look at the nearby horizon. Strangest place I’ve ever woken up. He glanced at the cosmonaut, crosswise below him, blinking in the bright light. And with a woman, no less. Though not one I’d pick.
Movement outside caught his eye. Lunokhod was rolling forward. As he watched, it abruptly stopped, as if they’d slammed on the brakes. It reversed, then immediately halted again. A small cloud of dust shook loose and fell.
He snorted. Clever Russians. Somehow they still had comms with their machine and were trying to shake the dirt off the radiator, like a cow shaking off flies. He watched it change direction jerkily a few more times, but very little dust was coming off now. Driving all those motors will be heating it up even faster. He was satisfied that he’d done his job and more. Hell, he’d gotten shot in the process.