Gene Kranz waited until all three were settled and then took a moment to summarize mission status for everyone.
“As you can see on the screen, Apollo 18 is mid-Pacific and should have just completed the second burn, making them co-altitude with Almaz. They’re also suited, with Luke Hemming ready for the EVA. Cabin depress should be just about complete to vacuum, waiting for our GO to open the hatch.
“As soon as we pick them back up off California, SURGEON, I want an immediate update on Luke’s suit telemetry.”
He looked to the front row at the Guidance Officer. “I’ll need trajectory as soon as we can get it, to make sure the second burn went well and to run the calculations for the upcoming Trans-Lunar Injection burn. We need to get those numbers on board prior to losing uplink—timing is very tight. TLI is going to happen beyond comm range, and we need to give the crew everything they need while we have them.”
Gene glanced at the digital clock at the front of the room, then said, “We’ll pick them up in ten minutes, and TLI is set for thirty minutes from now. Be ready, people. This is a critical half hour.”
He glanced back at Al Shepard and raised his eyebrows to see if the Chief Astronaut wanted to say anything. Al gave a curt nod of approval and raised his right hand in a thumbs-up.
“Okay, back to work, everyone. Let’s do this right.”
“There it is!” Michael’s voice was a mixture of awe and focus. “Right on the money!”
As if a cloak had been suddenly pulled away, the rising Sun lit Almaz, centered in Pursuit’s windows. Chad had a stopwatch Velcroed on the window frame. He aligned a small transparent ruler with the length of Almaz, started the stopwatch and read the calculated distance to Michael.
“We’re eleven hundred feet away. I’ll have a closing rate for you shortly.”
“Roger,” Michael responded, carefully firing the maneuvering jets to hold Almaz centered in the window. “I think we’re a little closer than eleven hundred, and see a healthy closing rate.”
Chad watched the second hand move on the stopwatch, thinking. “Luke, we’re only ten minutes or so from needing you in position. Let’s get the hatch open now.”
“Roger that, Boss. In work.” Luke double-checked that the rotary switch was turned to Unlatch, and began pumping the handle. With each stroke, the 15 rubber rollers that held the hatch tightly in place rotated away from the structure.
Chad made another careful sighting with the ruler and checked it against the stopwatch. “Looks like eight hundred feet, and closing at”—he calculated—“five feet per second.” He frowned. “I’ll need a couple more range marks before you can trust my speed calls.”
“Understood,” Michael said. He was happy that what he was seeing looked just like the visual simulator they’d set up for him in Houston. No surprises.
“All latches retracted, the hatch is loose. Opening it now.” Luke had his left hand on Michael’s seat, stabilizing as he pivoted the hatch out and open on its hinges. He glanced up, relieved to see the barf bag still secure on its Velcro. As he moved, his feet rotated quickly across the cabin and accidentally kicked Chad, tumbling him.
“Watch what you’re doing!” Chad grabbed on to a bulkhead rail to stabilize himself, then repositioned in front of his window.
“Sorry, Boss.” Luke cautiously moved his feet back between the two seats and began pulling himself up and through the hatch.
A voice in their headsets. “Apollo 18, this is Houston, how do you read?” Michael pushed the mic trigger. “Have you loud and clear, Houston, how me?”
Static. Gene Kranz looked at CAPCOM. “Did you get that?”
“Sorry, FLIGHT, no, unreadable.” He looked at the forward screen. “They’re still at max antenna range. It should get better as we get closer.”
“Copy.” Gene queried his other consoles, relieved to hear that the trajectory looked as expected, and the maneuvering fuel burn had been lower than budgeted.
JW said, “FLIGHT, this is SURGEON. Luke’s heartbeat and respiration are high. I think he’s started his spacewalk.”
Gene looked at his Environmental Control officer for confirmation.
“FLIGHT, telemetry shows the hatch microswitches are open, and the cabin at vacuum. I agree, the EVA has begun.”
Gene nodded, and glanced at the wall clock. “CAPCOM, tell them they have our GO for EVA.”
As CAPCOM’s voice passed the information through their headsets, Chad snorted. “No shit, Sherlock.” After the kick from Luke had spun him, he was feeling queasy again. He focused on taking another distance measurement.