Chow and Stetson were in their suits and in position for the Altair’s separation from the Orion and their descent to the surface. All systems checked out, and they were ready to go.
Stetson was worried, but not about going down to the Moon. He was worried about the timing and the fact that the taikonauts had less than five hours of power left in their suits. He’d have to get the Altair on the ground close to the Harmony, walk to the Chinese lander, and help the four taikonauts get back to the Altair. While he was taking care of getting the stranded Chinese, Chow would begin off-loading the equipment from the Altair that would enable them to get off the Moon and back to Earth. Once he returned, they would have to break out some tools to remove a few panels on the exterior of the spacecraft. That was a two-man job at a minimum, and none of them had ever tried it. Stetson was worried about the timing and the actions. If everything went according to plan, they would have about an hour or two to spare to get to the downed Chinese. That wasn’t much margin.
“Tony, separation in five seconds. Four. Three. Two. One. Separate!” called Stetson. The Altair jolted as it separated from the Orion. There was a slight roll as the two vehicles moved apart and then a low rumble—the Altair’s engines were lit, and they were beginning their descent.
“How many times did you simulate landing in the dark?” asked Chow.
“This is my first,” said Stetson. Unlike during any of their simulations, Stetson and Chow were descending to the surface in total darkness. “This was a mission scenario that was never supposed to happen,” he said.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope. All the sims had us landing and taking off during the day. We don’t have enough power to last through the night, and it’s just too dangerous to land in the dark. Why on Earth would we simulate such a thing? It was never on anyone’s mission plan!”
“So this will be your first time,” said Chow.
“Yep! But, like I said, don’t worry. We got pretty good pictures of the landing site from the Lunar Mapper before it crapped out, and now we can compare them with those we just took to make sure we don’t put this monster down on any rocks or a crashed Chinese lander. We’ve also got the terrain-mapping radar and some pretty good lights that I am supposed to switch on now.” Stetson paused long enough to activate four halogen lights pointing downward in their direction of travel.
Stetson continued, “The lights were put on here to help us avoid tripping on something in the shadow of the lander as we walk around. Depending upon the time of year and where you are on the Moon, the shadows can be rather long. We’re going to use them to help us land instead. Can’t talk anymore; I’d better pay attention to what I, er, the computer is doing as we land.”
Stetson returned his attention to the view screen and the altimeter data. Though the lights were bright, the ship was still too far away for them to reflect from anything on the ground. The radar told him that they were five miles from the surface and descending rapidly. The automated system was taking them to a site about three hundred meters from the Harmony, in an area that was relatively free of boulders.
As the descent continued, Stetson closely watched the cameras for any sign of the ground beneath them. He was painfully aware of what had happened the first time an American astronaut descended to the surface of the Moon. That commander had been Neil Armstrong, and he had had to manually bring the lander down to avoid some boulders that weren’t supposed to be in the way. They’d made it, but with far less fuel remaining than planned for. That’s why we have margin, thought Stetson.
“I see the ground,” said Stetson. And he saw it appear rather suddenly. One minute they were coming down through near-total darkness, and the next they could see the ground, and some boulders, just beneath and ahead of them.
“I don’t see Harmony. Tony, look aft and see if you can find them.” Stetson was hoping the computer had put them down in the right place.
The ship lunged upward as the engines further slowed their rate of descent. They were now dropping slowly toward the surface and, fortunately, the patch of ground they were headed toward looked wide open, with no boulders large enough to matter to the twenty-five-foot diameter Altair. Hopefully.
“Holy cow!” Chow exclaimed. “Look at the dirt we’re kicking up. I don’t see Harmony.” The engines were now kicking up an ever-increasing amount of dust as the ship drew nearer and nearer to the surface. Some of the debris was undoubtedly being blown far enough to impact the walls of the Harmony only three hundred meters away.
With a thump, the Altair reached the surface and the engines shut off. The lights illuminated the area around the lander, and, over the next couple of minutes, most of the airborne dust and debris kicked up during descent settled to the surface. The Altair was on the Moon, and neither Chow nor Stetson said a word for at least thirty seconds.
“We’re here.” Chow exhaled and relaxed just a little.
“Right. Touchdown,” Stetson replied. “We don’t have much time. Let’s go through checkout, and I’ll get ready to get out of here and over to the Harmony—if we’re in the right place. I never did see the ship as we were coming in.”
“Houston, this is Mercy I. We’re on the Moon.” Stetson knew that history was being made, and he was being very careful in his choice of words. “We don’t yet see Harmony, but I am preparing an EVA to find them.”
“Mercy I, this is mission control. Good luck. You’ve got some very happy people back home who want to see you and your passengers get back home safe and sound.”
“Roger that.” Stetson reached forward and turned off the microphone. “Now that the perfunctory remarks are concluded, let’s run through the checklist and make sure we don’t screw anything up that will keep us from going home. See if you can contact Harmony on the radio again.”
Chow adjusted some settings on the ship’s transmitter and spoke into it. “This is Mercy I. Captain Hui, are you there? Can you hear me? Please respond.”
The speaker remained silent. Chow repeated the message while gazing out the window at the lunar landscape. After another thirty seconds, he repeated it again.
“Bill, if they’re still with us, then they’re not able to respond for some reason. Their batteries and fuel cells must be totally out of power.”
“I was afraid of that. According to what we saw when we flew over, we should be only about a thousand feet from them. Their ship should be just over there. Right?” Stetson said while pointing out the window toward an outcropping of rocks about one hundred and fifty feet away. “I guess I’ll just have to go out there and find them.”
For the next thirty minutes, Chow helped Bill Stetson check out his spacesuit. As during Apollo, spacesuits were custom designed to fit each astronaut. Each connection had to be secure and airtight; there was no room for error in the unforgiving lunar environment.
“Okay. I think I’m ready to go.” Bill tapped a gloved hand against his sun shield, pushing it up and locking it out of the way. He certainly wouldn’t be needing it. “Any issues with the airlock?” Unlike the Orion, from which the in-flight EVA had to commence, the living space in the Altair lander did not have to vent to vacuum for each EVA. Instead, the lander was equipped with an airlock.
“It’s clear. Nothing but green lights on the panel.”