Back to the Moon-ARC

the crash. We do not know why.”

“What about communications? Did you hear from the crew?” one of the American engineers asked.

“At first, yes. We learned that the crew survived the crash and that the ship’s hull was not breached. After only a few minutes, the link failed, and we heard nothing more. Until, of course, the Dreamscape made contact.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone? Not just about the crash, but about the mission? The launch? Why did you keep it a secret?” A female NASA engineer that Bill didn’t know by name asked the question that was on everyone’s mind.

Xiang started to speak, but after he caught the eye of “the manager,” he paused instead. Then he said reluctantly, “That was a decision made at the highest levels, and I am not at liberty to discuss it. Please let us remain focused on the technical issues—and the rescue of our taikonauts.”

Stetson observed the nonverbal exchange between Xiang and what he now presumed was a Chinese political officer, and he didn’t like it. He briefly fantasized about walking over to “the manager” and punching him out. At the moment, that would have to remain a fantasy…at the moment.

A flurry of questions followed. Most of them were about the status of the remaining supplies the stranded astronauts might have in their possession and how many days they could survive before rescue.

“Excuse me! Excuse me!” The voice calling out was from one of the few nonengineering members of the flight-support team, Karen Williamson. Karen, who looked much like a suburban soccer mom, was the NASA psychiatrist. In her early forties, she’d worked with several crews on the International Space Station and spent time in Moscow studying the Russian cosmonauts.

“Uh, excuse me, EXCUSE ME!” After getting everyone’s attention, she asked, “Did anyone tell the crew that a rescue attempt was being made? I mean, they are two hundred and fifty thousand miles away from home, facing— at least in their minds—certain death. Did anyone try to tell them that they shouldn’t give up hope?”

Silence. In the room, all they could hear was the gentle hum of the air-conditioning system.

“From the lack of response, I’d guess the answer is no.” She frowned at everyone in the room a bit dramatically. “I think someone needs to tell them that we’re going to try a rescue. Otherwise they might just decide to not prolong what they believe is inevitable…”

The implications of her words began to sink in to those assembled.

“Damn. That didn’t occur to me.” Stetson was the first to respond. He turned to Xiang and added, “You said you tried to talk to them and failed, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Dreamscape managed to do it. Why is that?” Stetson asked.

“I’ve thought about that. There are two reasons. Based on the fact that their radio transmission wasn’t heard until the Dreamscape was in the radio quiet of lunar farside, we think they were using their low-power radio designed for talking to the crew from the lander during EVA. The system doesn’t have the power for us to pick up all the way back on Earth, but it did have the ability to reach the Dreamscape as it passed. And, most significantly, they are near the limb—they may barely be on the nearside after all. Direct radio communication to the Earth may be possible even without some sort of orbital relay.”

“I see.” Stetson said. “They were probably listening to Dreamscape as she chattered with Earth during her approach. Once the ship was cut off from any radio signals from home, they were able to get through. But if they are that close to the limb, they might hear something if we had a powerful enough transmission.”

Xiang and many in the room nodded.

“Okay, then. Let’s use the same frequency and the most powerful transmitter we’ve got to send them a message telling them that help is on the way.”

Rowan asked, “But if they are on the far side, how will they even receive the message? And if they do, how will we know they did? For that matter, how do we know that they haven’t already decided to kill themselves?”

“We have to try,” Stetson answered. His face was grim. “I hope I don’t land and find only bodies.”

“Wait a minute,” one of the communications engineers said. “We get weak signals from the Pioneers and Voyagers all the time. We can hear their low-power transmitters. You just have to know what frequency to listen to and when to point the Big Dish. If we need to, we could set up an interferometer out at the VLA. The SETI guys are probably all over this.”

“What is the Big Dish?” Xiang asked.

“It’s a nickname.” Bill smiled. “Arecibo, Puerto Rico. That’s where the National Science Foundation runs the largest single-dish radio receiver in the world. If they can get line-of-sight with even their low-power transmitter, then we will pick it up.”

The engineer continued. “And Arecibo can also broadcast. They once sent a megawatt signal into deep space for Carl Sagan. The Moon is so close, if they’ve got a receiver and aren’t totally blocked by the mass of the Moon, they’ll hear it.”

“That’s right. I seem to recall that Sagan thing back when I was a kid,” Stetson added as he thought about the problem. “Can’t we also use the Deep Space Network? Arecibo will only work when the dish has line-of-sight with the Moon. As we rotate away from the Moon, we won’t be able to listen or receive. By tying in the three DSN antennas—in California, Spain, and Australia—we should have coverage all the time.”

“I dunno, Bill,” Rowan replied, his face showing extreme skepticism. “So, we’re going to listen for a message from people who may be dead, and if they aren’t, their extremely weak radio signal will be blocked by the mass of the Moon, making it impossible for us to hear them? And while we’re doing that at the Very Large Array and the Deep Space Network, we’re going to blast a message to them with the Arecibo antenna telling them help is on the way. And, oh yes, they probably won’t hear that message because the Moon is blocking our signal as well. Good plan, Bill.”

“Right.” Stetson leaned forward toward Rowan and smiled as best he could. “Yes, I think that summarizes it nicely.”