Salvador Mercer - Lunar Discovery

“Here’s where you earn your pay, Tom,” Rock said, flipping the team channel again. “Time to see if those vectored thrust motors work as you intended them.”

Rock noticed that Lisa actually looked back over her shoulder at Tom’s console, and he even caught Marge sneaking a glance out of the corner of her eye.

Rock saw Tom calmly hit his push-to-talk button. “No worries, Rock. We got twelve degrees of arc on the vertical thrust and just over six on the lateral ones. That old lady is right in the middle of her flight path; we won’t hardly have to use the vectored thrust.”

“We’ll see. Keep their path on radar and monitor for any changes. We only get one shot at this,” Rock said.

“Houston, this is Blackjack . That was one hell of a move—felt the G-forces but good up here. We are now on target for lateral approach. How do we look on your radar?” Craig asked, his voice sounding more than relieved.

The craft was now flying above the equator, and as it looped around the far right side, or east side, of the moon, the earth-based radar would receive a near perfect shot at the ship above the moon’s surface and relay that data to the crew to compare with their own reading.

“Data inbound now, Blackjack . We show your altitude at twenty-five miles, minus two point seven,” Jack said.

“Tom?” Rock asked across the main channel, forgetting to flip to the team one.

“I’m on it, Rock,” Tom said, hitting a few buttons and punching on his keyboard like it was a square Lego stuck in a round hole. “Houston to Blackjack , you should have vertical lift at plus twenty-eight percent.”

“Yeah, we definitely feel that, Houston,” Craig said. “Glide slope looking close to nominal, fuel burn within specified parameters.”

Rock knew that the extra burn, even vectored, would burn up more fuel than what they had originally calculated, but NASA never went without intense safety margins and there was an extra thirty percent fuel load on board, even accounting for a maximum burn profile. They needed to land with enough fuel to liftoff again, so they monitored it closely.

“Take a deep breath, boss,” Marge’s voice whispered in his ear.

Rock noticed he had almost forgot to breathe as the radar track showed the Apollo ship over two miles below their intended flight path. Tom had sent the computer signals to the Apollo computer to make sure it would vector its thrust appropriately even though it had radar guidance computers performing the same task. Again, NASA didn’t take chances.

“Gotcha, Marge, just worried they’ll come in too hot, and well… Tom is old school, hardly broke a sweat.”

Marge smiled and looked back to her console. “We’re almost there, boss.”

“Houston to Blackjack , we’ve lost direct coms, switching to alternates,” Jack said.

The video feed was lost as the small communication satellites were so small, they simply handled audio and small data feeds only. Video could be streamed and even truncated to lower the bandwidth requirements, but Jeff and Tom didn’t like the idea of clogging the server with that much data and potentially losing contact between the two. Rock had agreed, and they compromised on a data stream as well as audio. There was no telling what that device could do to their signals once they got close to it.

“Houston, this is Blackjack , commencing landing burn. We are on target, all systems check,” Craig said.

“Roger, Blackjack , you are a go for landing,” Jack said.

Craig’s voice came across the channel, and it was difficult to only listen and not be able to see the lander. “Plus eighty feet, plus sixty feet… plus forty feet, plus twenty feet.” The sound of the rocket’s increasing thrust was clearly heard now in the background as they increased their burn. “Plus fifteen feet, plus ten feet, eight, six, five, three, one, touchdown. I repeat, Houston, this is Blackjack , successful touchdown on target.”

Rock listened to the room as cheers erupted, and he half fancied he heard some noise from behind the supposedly soundproof observation glass above his head. America had returned to the moon.

Crimson Glory

Lunar Surface, Marianas Plain

In the near future, Day 48

“Did you copy?” Hen Sing asked for the third time as he repeated his transmission.

There was a pause again before the static reply came back. “Affirmative, Crimson Glory , copy unknown object overhead, landing at one hundred one degrees of your location.”

Sing had watched something burning overhead and slightly to his south. He had landed somewhat farther north of the moon’s equator, having overshot his landing zone by a fair margin. At first he thought it was a meteor until it started to slow and actually had a controlled descent, disappearing somewhere over the horizon.

“ Crimson Glory confirmed, over and out,” Sing said, no longer wanting to be pandered to. He knew his time was up, and only his sense of duty kept him from just ending it there and now.

He glanced over at his oxygen readout where it was starting to approach the red line yet again. He had gone through three of his five oxygen containers and was about to be forced to open the fourth if he wanted to live for more than an hour or so.

Sing closed his eyes and focused on lowering his pulse and his breathing rate. He had never thought that his meditation skills could mean the difference in living or dying a few hours earlier or later. If that was all that fate would give to him, then he would take it.

People’s Republic Space Command

Beijing, China

In the near future, Day 47

“Better to just tell the man,” Hun argued with the general over the phone. “What’s left now then if we’re going to abort the entire mission?”

“Calm down, Director Lee.” General Wang’s voice came across calmly despite the current situation. “My experts inform me that the Crimson Glory can still record data and upload it manually to the orbiter even after the detonation of the warhead. We need that data, coupled with the orbiter’s, in order to be sure our mission is successful. Now it would be less than optimal if Colonel Sing did something to hamper the equipment on board the Glory . Make sure you download the auto commands on the orbiter’s next pass so that they will record and upload the data even after his passing.”

Hun wrapped his hand around the mouthpiece. “Son of a…” He looked at his team and then uncovered it again. “Fine, we’ll have the commands uploaded and set on automatic. Do you want to tell Colonel Sing, or shall I?”

“I already ordered you to withhold this information until the detonation of the missile. Then you can inform him once we have confirmation of the alien device’s destruction.”

“Fine, anything else, sir?” Hun said a bit more impertinent than was wise when dealing with an autocratic government figure, especially one as powerful as General Wang.

“No. Now do your duty, Director,” Wang said, hanging up the phone.

“Well?” Lin asked as Hun set the phone in its cradle.

“Proceed with the auto commands. Don’t tell Sing; I’ll do it in about ten hours,” Hun said.

“So they are just going to let him die up there?” Chon said, his voice bitter.

“We knew that when he blew the explosive bolts and landed. What’s done is done, now get to work.” Hun was uncharacteristically blunt, but he didn’t want anyone in his team to bring the general’s wrath down on themselves.

His team went back to their consoles, and Hun looked around at the armed soldiers. He suddenly felt sick just letting Sing die without telling the man what was coming, unless… Could it be possible? He could try, though it would cost him his life if he was caught.