heard, there was no such thing as a glide pattern in the airless void of the Moon.
“Stand by… stand by… shut down!”
The copilot cut the fuel feed to the large main engine, sending the Astral into complete silence as she hurtled toward the surface. The pilot and copilot knew that, if the main engine failed to restart, they would impact the Moon’s surface at close to two miles a minute, sending pieces of the ESA mission all over the Moon’s dusty surface.
Below, all eyes were either closed or looking at the person next to them. There was no sensation of falling, just one of near total silence, with only the blipping and squeaking of the radar to be heard. The copilot was audible through the Astral ’s communications system.
“Major, we are at two thousand feet. Long-range cameras are picking up rocks in the landing zone. Do we adjust with OHM’s rockets?”
“Negative, we don’t have the fuel. We just have to hope the rocks aren’t that big,” the pilot said. He risked a quick look at his younger copilot. “Stand by for main engine ignition. Crew, brace for impact,” the pilot ordered calmly. “It’s not going to be soft. Remember your emergency egress plan. If we land intact, stand by with purge patches in case there are holes anywhere in the ship.”
Marceau knew that this scenario wasn’t a viable plan at all. Purge patches were designed in case they were struck in orbit by a small meteorite or debris, creating a small hole in the platform, thus requiring the crew to place small plastic and rubber seals with adhesive backing over the hole to stop any evacuation of the interior environment. Any large breach wasn’t covered by the manufacturer’s design team. The crew would be either swept from the pressurized cabin or crushed in the impact.
“Three, two, one, fire main engine!” This time the major said it loudly. The command rang throughout Astral as the copilot initiated main engine start. The crew heard the blast of fuel as it was purged from the tanks below them. Then they all grimaced as a loud explosion was heard inside of the cabin. The sensation hit them that they were slowing.
“We have main engine start at three hundred feet!”
“Bring main engine and aft OHMs to a full power setting. Burn them until the fuel is exhausted,” the major said, as Astral hurtled toward the surface.
“Firing six OHMs at attitude zero degrees. We have burn.”
With the main engine and OHM attitude jets firing all at once, Astral slowed even further. They all knew the small engine bells of the OHM’s rockets were not designed for landing, only for maneuvering in space and for small adjustments during the landing cycle.
“Fuel is running out. We just lost the starboard OHMs,” the copilot said loudly as Astral started vibrating beyond anything they had encountered in simulations. Each crewman who wasn’t on the upper command deck was deep in prayer as Astral started tilting to the right.
“Shut down all OHM’s jets, now!” the major called out. “I’ll gimbal the main engine bell to straighten our attitude.”
As Astral came within a hundred feet of the rock-strewn landing zone, the main engine bell of the lander gimbaled to the right, sending the large craft in that direction and straightening her fall.
“Come on, come on,” Marceau said out loud, as he braced for the impact he knew was coming. He looked down and made sure the crew members were strapped in tight as the call came from up above.
“Zero fuel!” the copilot said.
“Brace for impact!” the major called out. He adjusted his feet on the Velcro pads just as he lost sight of the horizon. He hit a small red button on the control under his right hand, sending a signal up to the orbiting command module. “ Bonaparte, Bonaparte, Astral is going down. I repeat, we are going down!”
“Ten feet, five feet-”
Astral hit hard, sending her pad-less landing strut deep into the lunar surface. As she sank to the starboard side, the number four strut struck a large rock, shearing off at the engine housing. Then number two collapsed from the sheer weight of the impact. The lander hit as her main engine bell plunged deep into the lunar dust. Astral bounced and then came down again.
Marceau felt something in his back give way and as he reacted to the sudden awareness that he felt no more pain, the main bulkhead gave way and one man was thrown free of the compartment as it opened to the Moon’s environment. Astral rolled once, twice, and then came to a stop as the second deck partially separated from the first.
As Astral stopped its crazily spinning momentum, loose papers and debris were swept out of the compartment. The electrical system was failing, as sparks and smoke started flowing from the environmental control system. To Major Marceau all seemed to be happening in slow motion.
“All crewmen out now. The environmental controls are completely off-line. We have no air. She’s bleeding to death and we’re on fire,” a voice shouted from a strange and cockeyed angle far to their left.
The men started reacting after the shock of the crash. Safety harnesses were released and hands grabbed those too injured to assist in their own egress. Marceau felt hands on him and thought he was finally going to feel the pain of his broken back, but nothing happened as he was finally pulled from his upright seat. He knew then that he was paralyzed from at least the chest down. He turned his head and was relieved he could do even that.
“Survival packs-get the survival packs,” he managed to say as he was pulled toward a large breach in Astral ’s hull.
“We have them, Major, extra oxygen also,” one of the French commandos said. He looked shaken but he was in control as he pulled Marceau along by the arm. “The pilot is dead and the copilot has two broken legs.”
Marceau felt himself pulled free of the wreckage and he immediately saw the star-filled sky overhead as he was laid next to one of the broken landing struts of Astral. As he listened to the rescue of his crew, he knew the ESA mission to the Moon was now officially dead. He only hoped they would be alive long enough to tell someone.
As the surviving men of Astral scrambled free and took cover behind the small rim of a crater, they felt as well as saw the bright flash of her tanks as the electrical short ignited the fumes inside. At the same moment, sparks struck the damaged oxygen cylinders bundled underneath the main engine housing. In complete and utter silence, the men of ESA Moon Mission 01 watched Astral rise into the airless sky and come apart, peppering the area with debris. It was as though a bomb had exploded. All of their supplies and weapons were gone in a flash of brilliant brightness.
The men of the Astral sat for what seemed like an hour, coming to terms with the possibly gruesome fate that awaited them.
“Once everyone is assembled, we start for Shackleton Crater, and hope the Americans have better luck than us,” Marceau said, as he felt the coolness of his oxygen flow for the first time. That was when he realized it was the air hitting blood flowing freely from a head wound.
With the survival packs and extra oxygen, they had a total of fifteen hours of life remaining to them.
The president of the United States slowly placed the phone in its cradle.
The French president had just reported loss of contact with their Astral lander. Catastrophic failure was assumed. With the Russians so far behind, that meant possible hostile fire from the Chinese without backup.
His back was still bruised from the attempt on his own life just four days before. He thought about reaching for the intercom once more but pulled his hand back. His eagerness to know what was happening in the People’s Republic was gnawing at him but he knew it would be a mistake to push the chairman further.
The intercom gave out a soft tone.
“Yes,” he said softly, hoping it wasn’t one of the Joint Chiefs calling to tell him what he already knew about the disaster to the ESA mission.
“Mr. President, Wang Zhaoguo, vice chairman of National People’s Congress, is on the line from Beijing.”
The president sat up, but hesitated before reaching for the phone. He knew this was it, either they had an ally in the overall cause facing the planet or the Chinese mission to the Moon would continue as a hostile force. It all depended on the men Wang represented in the Politburo of the People’s Republic.
“Thank you. Please put the vice chairman through.” He sighed.
