Salvador Mercer - Lunar Discovery

Rock’s mike clicked open as Jack queued him on the private frequency. “Wasn’t that long ago that most people thought the world was flat. Now we’re circling it in a mere hour.”

Rock smiled as he watched the radar track superimposed on a map of the world. “Right you are. Geologically speaking, it was a mere blink of an eye. Makes you wonder where we’ll be in a few more centuries.”

Tom had joined them in the intercom. “Nowhere at the rate Congress funds us. We’re lucky we’re even headed back to the moon now.”

“Don’t you have a system to monitor?” Jack chided Tom.

“I have less systems to monitor than you have frequencies,” Tom retorted. Neither of his technicians looked up from their consoles, and any casual observer would be at a loss if they were listening in.

Rock let it go as time passed and the last stage crossed over the Indian Ocean. Marge’s team had calculated the orbit at one-hundred-two-point-four miles overhead by the same margin. A perfect circular orbit, not that it surprised Rock since the Apollo 16 mission had achieved much the same decades earlier.

“Ignition in three, two, one, mark,” the data technician said through her microphone as the third stage rocket reignited and the thrust vectors sent the craft up and away from low earth orbit pointed at the moon.

Rock watched as the rest of the propellant was consumed and the radar track updated to show the Apollo spacecraft within a quarter of a degree of their plotted trajectory.

“Nicely done, everyone,” Rock said over the public frequency. There was a round of applause when the data technician cut in and declared the ship on target.

“ Blackjack to Houston,” Rock heard the intercom crackle with Craig’s voice coming from the ship. “We are headed to the moon, Houston.”

Marge looked at Rock and gave the go ahead nod. “Houston to Blackjack , confirm transmission. Blackjack inbound to the moon. All systems go, over and out,” Marge said.

“ Blackjack ?” Rock asked, clicking on his team’s private channel.

“It was Tom’s idea, and Craig and Julie ran with it,” Marge said.

“Yeah, like in Apollo 21 , Blackjack in Vegas,” Tom said.

This mission should have been Apollo 20 , but since that mission was aborted, the superstitious but scientific NASA team always advanced the mission number in order not to jinx the operation. If Apollo 20 was a bust, then Apollo 21 would be their lucky number. It would be their Blackjack.

People’s Republic Space Command

Beijing, China

In the near future, Day 46

It had taken the general less than ten minutes to discuss the veteran engineer’s recommendation and finally approve it. Hun had to explain it to Colonel Sing personally, and he was almost brought to tears at how the older man handled the news. It was, of course, offered as a voluntary course of action, but the colonel knew what it meant and, with great grace and honor, had accepted the new mission profile.

The general had taken a few moments to discuss the objectives with Colonel Hen Sing before returning control back to Hun. Engineer Wu had figured out the only solution short of simply returning empty-handed and never hesitated to offer it to Central Control.

“Bastard,” Hun heard Chon whisper into his ear.

“Not now, Chon,” Hun said, looking sideways at the hallway doors where the general had left not long ago. Hun was sure that General Wang would be watching from the upper control room overlooking the main consoles here in Beijing.

“He just ordered the man to his death,” Chon persisted.

Hun waved him away and sat down in his chair, relieved to see that Chon had returned to his desk.

“Report when you are secure in the main lander,” Hun heard Lin say over the main frequency.

“I’ll take it from here,” Hun ordered. Lin looked at her boss once and then clicked her mike off. Hun would take responsibility for the instructions that would seal the man’s fate.

The new mission profile called for Colonel Sing to separate the lander by manually overriding the emergency explosive bolts, which would detach the lander and the command module from the energy/fuel pod. This would allow him to land on the moon’s surface and return to orbit with the alien device.

He would not be able to re-dock with the first pod that contained the energy and fuel stores because the explosive bolts would destroy the docking collar. He would, however, be able to place the device in one of the smaller storage bins that he could access from the outside, and then the secondary module could be remotely piloted back to earth, leaving Sing and the control module orbiting the moon for eternity. Sing would live until his oxygen supply ran out four days later.

“ Crimson Glory , this is Beijing Control, do you copy?” Hun said, his voice calm but determined.

“Beijing Control, the Crimson Glory copies. Do you have instructions for me?” Sing said.

“Affirmative. On my mark, you will engage the emergency protocol on the dual pod release mechanism. This has been wired now so that you can simply press the red ‘detach’ button on the right of your console. Are you ready?”

“ Crimson Glory ready and able.” The old man’s voice crackled as it proceeded around the side of the moon.

Hun waited for the countdown timer. They had several minutes to spare, and the timing had to be perfect if the craft was to land successfully near the target. It had the bare minimum fuel requirement in order to even reach the moon, so most of the trip in would be coasting with some short, strong burns of the motors to arrest the ship’s velocity and keep it within maintainable maneuvering levels.

“Detach in ten seconds,” Hun said. “Three, two, one, detach now.”

The external cameras clearly caught the metallic fragments as twelve bolts exploded, separating the lander and command module from the energy pod. Hun had to hand it to the colonel, the man never hesitated.

Hun noticed Lin and Chon still working furiously at a plan to transfer fuel from the secondary module to the primary one. Hun knew it would be futile, but he couldn’t bring himself to blame his crew for trying. The main issue was that the heavier lander and control module carried only enough fuel to make it to the moon. The fuel reserves were on the secondary module which, after docking and mating with the command module, could not be pumped or otherwise transferred to Sing’s lander.

The lander doubled as not only the lunar transfer vehicle but also the earth to moon and return control module. It had to in order for the lighter lift Long Reach rocket to be able to reach the moon with that size payload. A separate command module and lunar lander was considered wasteful. There was no astronaut staying in lunar orbit; therefore, no command module was needed.

Both modules were still traveling together, but the lander was falling steadily behind as the inertia from the explosive bolts slowed its velocity by a half meter per second. The timing was designed for only a minute to pass before Hun ordered Sing to begin the retro-burn and slow the lander.

“Retro-burn initiated,” Sing said, his voice calm and professional. Not what Hun expected from a man who just had his death warrant signed and sealed.

“Decrease burn in three, two, one, mark,” Hun said. The control center room was completely silent except for the faint humming of cooling fans coming from the many electrical devices and computers hard at work.

“Burn decreased,” Sing said, his hand on the piloting stick ready to take over in case the computer didn’t make the necessary course corrections.