Salvador Mercer - Lunar Discovery

“Yes, that would definitely rain on our parade,” Julie said, satisfied that the rover would be operational when they landed. “Have you compensated for the adjusted flight profile?”

Craig looked his readings out and nodded. “Yeah, we can burn enough to land closer and lengthen our temporal window, though the radiation levels will be higher than I’d like. Probably roast my balls but good before we land.

Julie knew that Craig was referring to the exposed piloting position on the lander once they approached the site. The lander wasn’t designed to have extensive shielding since it wasn’t supposed to approach the alien device this closely. They saved the weight of the shielding and used it for more fuel and a more robust rover package. Now they were being asked to land much closer and risk a much higher rate of radiation until they could land and be somewhat shielded by the lip of the crater near the device.

“Well, it’s not like I’m wanting this kind of exposure either, Craig,” Julie commented. “It will, however, shorten our mission time and allow us to land and return with something of a safety margin.”

“If you can ever have a safety margin when an impending atomic blast is imminent. Get the mini-sats ready for launch,” Craig said.

“They’re ready and on auto release once we reach the insertion point,” Julie said.

“Good, I’m glad our engineers rigged something up to keep us in communications while on the far side,” Craig said.

“Agreed. Are we ready for orbital insertion burn?” Julie asked, all back to business-like.

“We’re ready. Run the systems check and inform Houston. Let’s get this over with,” Craig responded.

NASA Space Center

Houston, Texas

In the near future, Day 47

“We’ve received acknowledgement that all systems are a go for lunar orbital insertion,” Lisa said from her console back in NASA’s control center. “Also, the mini communications satellites have detached and commenced their insertion burns as well.”

Rock nodded and watched the timer countdown from its display on the main screen. They would only have one shot at the proper insertion and then separation of the lander as they looped around the South Pole. Being off by even a fraction of a degree could translate to over a hundred miles off target once they came back around.

The news that both small communication satellites had also detached and successfully started their own orbital insertion burns was comforting for Rock. He had both Tom and Jeff working overtime to get the mini-birds ready as part of his mission support so that they could stay in touch with the landing team even while on the dark side of the moon.

Tom winked at Rock when he looked his way. Rock knew Tom was also pleased at the result.

Rock keyed his mike. “Are the insertion tracks on target, Tom?”

“Oh yeah, boss. We’re five by five on my little birds. They’ll be exactly where we promised them, don’t you fret none,” Tom said, a smile across his face.

Rock nodded yet again and switched over to the main communications channel with a slight glance to the observatory room perched behind him and one floor up. He couldn’t see there well, but was sure that the vice president was watching them live even now. “Houston to Blackjack , you are a go for deceleration burn in t-minus twenty seconds.”

“Roger, Houston, Blackjack is ready for burn, countdown in t-minus fifteen seconds.” Rock recognized Craig’s voice.

“Normal two-point-five second lag, Richard,” Lisa said, coming across their semi-private communications channel.

“Copy that, Lisa, just keep the radar active and up to date. I want to know the minute anything looks funky,” Rock said.

The team watched, and heard, as Craig counted down, finally hitting the ignition commands on their console and firing their braking motors to insert the Apollo 21 craft into a lunar orbit.

The radar track showed them looping and disappearing from sight as they crossed the North Pole and downward behind the moon.

“Acquiring audio signal now,” Jack came across the main channel.

“Houston, this is Blackjack , communications check, over,” Julie’s voice asked as it was bounced from their ship to earth via the portside communications satellite that was on the far west side of the moon. Just before it went behind the moon in a highly elliptic orbit, the other mini satellite would pop out from its orbit and be within the line of sight of earth and the far side of the moon at the same time. The orbital dance of the two satellites would play out like this for the next twelve hours before the gap in their orbital speeds became noticeable, and they would experience increasing periods of communication’s blackouts.

“Read you loud and clear,” Jack said. “Data feed also arriving intact.” This last reference was to the digital feed of data from the Apollo 21 ship, which included radar determination of their altitude, speed, and other various onboard system statuses.

After twenty minutes the craft began to pass the equator and fly over the southern hemisphere of the moon. “Crossing equatorial plane now,” Julie’s voice said.

“Roger, Blackjack , flight data is nominal, trajectory optimal, all systems go.” Jack continued his readout every two minutes.

“This is where we see if our calculations are correct.” Marge’s voice came across Rock’s headset on the private channel.

“I’m sure we’ll do fine. How’s the track on the Chinese missile?” Rock asked.

Marge looked at her console and then back to Rock’s. “It’s on target, and most importantly, the ETA has remained the same, t-minus ten hours, fifty-two minutes. I think we can dial that one in now.”

“Roger that, keep an eye on it, though. You never know if it has a booster pack ready to give it a bit of a push as it gets closer,” Rock said.

“Will do,” Marge replied.

Nearly fifteen more minutes had passed and the Apollo crew had gone through their checklist with Houston. Jack was the lead communications technician for the mission, but they had verified it through Lisa.

“Houston, this is Blackjack , we are ready for detachment and zero v burn. Confirm the mark.”

Rock nodded at Jack, taking the lead now for the most critical part of the mission. “Roger, Blackjack , you are ready for detaching in t-minus one minute. Standby for landing burn.”

The latest time went down to zero, and the landing craft detached. Jack jumped in to update the communication’s status. “We have direct coms and video feed on you now, Blackjack .”

“Roger, Houston, we have successfully detached. Commencing burn in three, two, one, burn.” Craig’s voice counted down.

The picture on the monitor showed the lander burn, its outward thruster first to lower it below the flight path of the orbiter so that when the powerful rocket motors initiated their burn and slowed the lander, the orbiter didn’t plow into it. Instead the feed showed the orbiter suddenly seem to accelerate and fly right over the lander and quickly out of sight.

“We are on track. Radar confirms altitude at plus seventy-eight miles and dropping,” Craig said.

“Keep them on radar,” Rock said, flipping his coms channel to the mission team. Everyone had heard his orders, and Jack and Marge nodded.

The sidebar on the main screen showed the lander falling until it reached an altitude of forty-seven miles and the relative velocity had literally come to zero on the lateral scale, but the ship was falling quickly.

“Gyro burn now, Houston,” Craig called out, indicating that their many positioning thrusters had turned the ship from a rear-first approach and tilted the bottom of the craft to a forty-five-degree angle facing to the west as the craft would use the very slight rotation of the moon to approach the alien device from the retrograde side, much the same as the Russian space ship station.