The astronaut hadn’t reacted to Chelomei’s demand and was back talking to Houston in English as if it had never happened. She looked again at Lunokhod in the distance, visualizing what it would be like at liftoff. She spoke quickly, before Chad shut off her mic.
“Houston, will our launch blast blow dust onto Lunokhod?”
Chad’s arm shot out and flicked off the transmit switch, his face a mask of fury. “Don’t you talk!” he yelled. She saw a spray of spit fog the lower part of his visor. But he’d been too slow.
The interpreter answered, translating what Kaz told him. “Major Gromova, the analysts here have looked at it, and they think the local blast from the upper stage motor will be mostly horizontal near Lunokhod, so should pose no dust threat.”
Excellent, she thought, defiantly looking into Chad’s eyes. Their launch would blow dust off the rover. If Chelomei and his team read between the lines, they’ll move it even closer!
Chad was reaching to re-enable voice transmission when they heard Chelomei again.
“Thank you, Major Gromova, we understand. And if—”
The Russian voice cut off abruptly as Chad shut off all external communications. He spoke on intercom, his eyes blazing at Svetlana. “You try that again, I’ll kill you!” His hand came up fast and punched her helmet, and her head banged into a handrail. She focused quickly to see if the plastic visor had broken, but saw only a new deep scratch on the outer surface.
“Ponyala?” he demanded.
She eyed him warily. “Da.”
He turned back and threw the comm switches. “The cosmonaut’s nodding, Houston, sorry for the interruption. I’m ready when you are for the depress and trash jettison.”
She got out of his way as he opened the hatch and pushed the items out, watching through the windows to see if Moscow had understood her. With satisfaction, she saw that the rover was still moving in short bursts, each pulse getting it closer to the LM.
She smiled tightly.
There was no doubt that he was in charge. But she’d won another battle.
By design, Bulldog had just one chance to leave the Moon, a solitary rocket engine to lift the upper half clear of its heavy landing legs, get it going fast enough to catch up with Pursuit in orbit and dock.
Many things had to happen perfectly, in sequence. If any one of them failed, Chad and Svetlana would stay on the surface forever. Or perhaps worse, crash back into it. Either way, Michael would be flying his ship back to Earth alone.
It began with two bangs, as battery power ignited explosive charges. The larger of them shattered threaded nuts and drove a guillotine that severed all mechanical connections with the landing section. They were free. The smaller one then opened valves, letting high-pressure helium rush through small tubes connected to the propellant tanks. The helium squeezed the volatile liquids down into the engine, where they mixed and instantly exploded.
With a shower of sparks the engine fired, pushing Bulldog up and away from the surface of the Moon.
“I see pitch-over, Houston.” Chad’s voice was calm as 16 small steering thrusters pulsed, turning Bulldog from the pure vertical liftoff to aim towards Pursuit.
On Earth, Kaz was watching the data closely on his console monitor, listening to the technical confirmation on the comm loops. “You have good thrust, Bulldog.”
The sudden ignition of the motor had pushed Svetlana down into the floor with double her weight. Like standing on Earth again.
She leaned forward, looking down through her window to try to see what effect the rocket blast had had on Lunokhod, but couldn’t tell. Within seconds the bottom half of the lander had disappeared from sight and they were accelerating towards rendezvous.
Chad was running his finger along a checklist table that showed altitude, attitude and climb speed, double-checking the steering computer. “Bulldog’s on track, Houston.” The radio filled with static.
Kaz called Pursuit. “Michael, looks like our signal’s getting messed up by their exhaust plume, as expected. Please relay that all numbers look good.”
Michael had been staring at the Moon’s surface, camera in hand, hoping to see the liftoff. “Will do, Kaz. I don’t see them yet.” He repeated Kaz’s message to Chad.
Chad was watching his instruments. “Thanks, Michael, I have a solid radar lock on you. Guidance looks good. Engine shutdown time looks as planned at 7:18.”
“I’m looking forward to the company! It’s been quiet up here. Nice view, though.”
“Copy that.” Chad looked at the timeline. “We’ll be docked in a couple of hours.”