“Roger.”
A pause as Chad made a last few inputs. Svetlana listened for the sound of metal on metal, hearing the scrape and thunk as they docked.
“Contact and capture!” Michael said. “Nice flying, Commander!”
“Thanks.” It had been perfect. Chad safed the control system as he listened to the probe retraction mechanism pull the two ships together.
The specialists in Mission Control had all been watching closely, but Kaz had stayed radio silent, letting the crew do their work to get docked, one of the last major critical events.
“Congratulations, Apollo 18,” he said. “Glad to see you reunited. If you look below you, you’re just passing overhead your landing site at Le Monnier Crater. To let you know, we’re planning to put a request in to the International Astronomical Union to name that local valley Hemming Rille, in honor of Luke.” It had been Laura’s idea, and Kaz had thought it fitting.
“Copy, Houston,” Michael said. “He was a good man.”
There was a moment’s silence.
“Now let’s get the hatch open and start heading for home.”
Michael had cleaned house for their arrival. He’d gathered all the unneeded items and trash into one large transfer bag to leave in Bulldog, and had opened up Pursuit’s lower lockers, ready to receive the all-important lunar rock and soil samples for return to Earth. The stowage was below the seats, to keep the added weight in a secure place for the high forces they’d face while re-entering Earth’s atmosphere, and for stable floating in the ocean after splashdown.
In contrast, Bulldog was filthy, everything coated with the gritty lunar dust they’d brought in on their suits. Weightlessness was making it worse, as movement filled the cabin with the tiny, sharp, floating shards of countless meteorite impacts.
Previous crews had identified a need to clean the dust off items before transferring them out of the LM, and NASA engineers had rigged up a portable vacuum cleaner using a suit hose, fan and filter. Chad plugged it in, dragged it on its power cable through into Bulldog and held it out it to Svetlana.
“Here’s where you turn it on, toots.” He pointed to the silver switch on its side, and then at the walls and floor of Bulldog. “Now get cleaning.”
He wants me to vacuum?
Instantly irritated, she crossed her arms. But she needed a reason to be in the LM, to watch every item being transferred. She realized that this would give her an excuse.
“Spasiba,” she said, with a small nod, and reached out to take it. Play his game. She turned it on and the motor whirred tinnily to life.
Chad smirked. “Make sure you get into all the corners.”
He turned and yelled down the tunnel. “Michael, you ready for transfer items?” A muffled voice called back affirmative, and he began collecting suit hardware, cameras and vacuum-sealed sample boxes to float through the hatch to Pursuit. Prior to transferring each one, he held it up for Svetlana to once-over with the vacuum.
“Look at us, a model of international cooperation,” he said over the noise.
She ignored him, concentrating on the task. From the size of the hole in front of Lunokhod, the rock had not been big. She was certain the astronaut would have stowed it separately from the other samples. As she vacuumed, she considered possibilities. She now had the pistol tucked into the waistband of her underwear; maybe he’d done something similar with the rock? She looked at the white flight suit he’d put on; no obvious bulges. Their moonwalking suits were still bundled bulkily under bungees at the back of the LM; he’d have to pull them out for transfer, as they’d need to wear them again for re-entry.
In between cleaning transfer items, she vacuumed the cabin itself to keep the floating dust to a minimum. Where else might he have put it? The main stowage area was in the back; the front of the cockpit was spartan and functional. She looked along the edges of the instrument panel for any recesses, and her eyes settled on a small white bag clipped below the data entry panel. Is that big enough? It’s here somewhere, and he’s going to try to bring it into the other ship without my knowing. She just needed to be patient. And observant.
“Houston, Pursuit, I show us in LM jettison attitude: Roll 014, Pitch 038 and Yaw 344.”
Kaz glanced to confirm the data on his console screen. “Looks good, Michael, you’re GO for Pyro Arm. We show separation in thirty seconds.”
Michael threw the switch and kept his hands floating near the controls. As soon as the pyrotechnic charges fired, the bit of air pressure they’d left in the tunnel would help to push Bulldog away, like a gust of wind on a sail. To be safe, he’d also fire Pursuit’s thrusters to get clear.