Dark Side of the Moon

by Alan Jacobson

  “Exactly what it is,” Stroud said. He slowed, and then stopped, the Spider a dozen feet from the metal framework, which stood stately by, untouched, and ungazed upon, by humanity in several decades.

  Uzi, DeSantos, and Carson hopped off the rover and made their way over to the structure. On the side was a stainless steel plaque, roughly eight inches by ten, fastened to the lander’s third and fourth ladder rungs. Uzi dusted off the curved surface with his gloved right hand. An engraved Moon and Earth were at the top, followed by the words,

  Here Man completed his first explorations of

  the Moon, December 1972 AD.

  May the spirit of peace in which we came be

  reflected in the lives of all mankind.

  It was signed by the three Apollo 17 astronauts Cernan, Schmitt, and Evans, as well as by President Richard Nixon.

  “Well that’s kind of ironic,” Uzi said. “Different circumstances, but in a weird kind of way, we came today with the same goal.”

  “What is all this?” DeSantos asked. He was standing beside a heap of what looked like junk, piled a few feet high and scattered over a five foot radius.

  Carson came up alongside him. “After their last EVA, Cernan and Schmitt had to dump all sorts of stuff out of the lunar module to get their weight down. Every ounce counted. They actually used a fishing scale to weigh everything and dump whatever wasn’t essential so they could get off the surface.”

  Uzi gestured to the pile. “All sorts of equipment.” He put a hand on DeSantos’s shoulder for stability and used his toe to move some of the stuff aside. “MREs!” Uzi said, using the military term for meals ready to eat. “Can you believe that?”

  Carson carefully bent forward for a better look. “I don’t think they’re MREs. Same concept, but a whole lot more sophisticated to withstand the rigors of space flight. Can’t remember what they had with them, but dehydrated cream of mushroom soup sticks in my mind.”

  “Can you imagine what that must taste like all these years later?”

  Carson laughed. “Probably not a whole lot worse than it tasted when it was fresh.”

  “Be glad you’ll never find out,” DeSantos said.

  “Guys,” Stroud said over their headsets, “we’re on a tight schedule. Bus leaving in T-minus ten seconds.”

  “My fault.” Uzi grabbed the metal handle on the rear of the Spider. “I’m a history buff, especially space history. And instead of a replica in the National Air and Space Museum, I’m on the Moon looking at the actual thing. Mind blowing.”

  “Blow your mind some other time. We’re shoving off. Hang on.” Stroud accelerated and drove a couple hundred feet, where the LRV was parked.

  The rover was angled toward the descent stage, facing it. The tires were large and made of what looked to be some kind of metal mesh. The seats were crude and had crisscrossing straps, making them resemble old style lawn chairs.

  “Pull over,” Uzi said. “I want to take a look, see what power connections I’m dealing with.”

  Stroud stopped a dozen feet away. DeSantos got off the Spider and led the way to the primitive looking four-wheel vehicle.

  “CAPCOM,” DeSantos said, “we’re taking a quick detour at the LRV.”

  “Roger. Meantime, I’m sending Cowboy the location and heading for the Chang’e. Keep in mind that assuming you get the solar array wired into the Spider, you might need to charge it up for a while, so factor that into your plans.”

  “Why’d they park the rover so far away from the lunar module?” Carson asked.

  “The LRV had a movie camera mounted on it,” Maddox said. “Gene Cernan put the rover where it is to get far enough back to film the ascent stage liftoff and beam it back to Earth.”

  “Copy that,” Uzi said. “I see the camera.” He carefully lowered himself to his knees, switched on his helmet spotlight, and peered under the rover. “CAPCOM, you think you can get hold of some specs on the Chang’e solar array and battery? And maybe someone who can tell me how long it’d take to get it up and running on the LRV?”

  “Already on it,” Maddox said. “I think I’ve got someone for you. I can multitask.”

  “Hey, there are letters here carved into the dirt,” Carson said, standing beside the driver’s seat. “T, D, and C.”

  “Cernan’s daughter’s initials,” Uzi said. “Leave them be.”

  “Bob,” DeSantos said, “what’s that big box mounted between the two seats?”

  “I’ve been paging through the old LRV manual. That box is the control console I mentioned before. Are you sitting in the rover?”

  Uzi pulled himself up and gestured to DeSantos. “Give us a sec.” They climbed in and DeSantos used his glove to brush away a thin layer of Moon dust. “We see the panel.”

  “Okay, good. The speed and heading gauges are self-­explanatory. Obviously, once you’ve got the solar array hooked up and charging the batteries, you’ll have to pay attention to the power/temperature monitor, which is right in the middle. Those will be a guide to the motor on each wheel.”

  “I see it,” Uzi said.

  “Directly below that, there’s drive power, drive enable, and steering. BUS A and BUS B, for each of the wheels, need to be set to on. Same with the main power switches on the left, for the two batteries.”

  DeSantos pointed. “We got it.”

  “And that big white T-shaped joystick in the middle is the controller, your steering wheel. I’ve heard it took some getting used to because it’s in the middle rather than in front of you, and you can only use one hand to steer. It doesn’t use pressure sensitive touch control like a fighter jet, so you physically have to move it side to side. Uzi, uh … you’re not going to be driving it, are you?”

  “Oh my god, Bob. You too? I’m not gonna crash the thing. I’m a good driver, really.”

  DeSantos heard some chuckling over the radio. The ground control guys were listening in and having a good time with this—at Uzi’s expense.

  “You move the stick forward to go forward,” Maddox continued. “Left and right turns it left or right. But pulling the controller backward toward you activates the brakes. If you flip a switch on the handle before pulling back, the LRV goes in reverse. But if you pull the thing all the way back, you’ll set the parking brake.”

  “Wait,” Uzi said, “just want to make sure I’ve got this straight: moving the controller to the right makes us go left?”

  “Very funny,” Maddox said. “Last thing is the system reset button. When you’ve got enough charge, you’ll need to hit that. And then you’re ready to go.”

  “Ten-four,” DeSantos said.

  “And the batteries?” Uzi asked. “I couldn’t see them.”

  “There are two and they’re between the front wheels, hidden underneath dust covers, an insulation blanket, and a gyro thermal strap.”

  Uzi’s sigh was audible over the radio. “This transplant is gonna take awhile. Cowboy, where’s the toolbox?”

  “Open the rear door to the suit lock and in the left wall—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I remember.” Uzi shuffled over to the Spider and pulled on the rear door handle.

  “Oh, one other thing,” Maddox said. “During the Apollo 17 mission, Gene Cernan accidentally knocked off the right rear fender extension. They replaced it with EVA maps, duct tape, and lunar module clamps. But when they left they needed the clamps for launch so they removed the maps—”

  “Those maps are on display in the Air and Space Museum in DC,” Uzi said. “I’ve seen them.”

  “Correct. And as a result, you’re gonna get a lot of dust kicked up. If you have time, see if you can find a solution. Otherwise, prepare to get filthy. Put the dust covers back on the batteries after you replace them and obviously make sure the solar panel surfaces stay clean.”

  “Copy that,” Uzi said.

  �
��Guys,” Stroud said, “climb back on. We’ve gotta get over to the Chang’e in case the solar conversion will work.”

  “How much longer till we have some answers on that?” DeSantos asked as he hopped onto the back of the Spider.

  “Right now. I’ve got Sarah Neville here, a power system lead. Normally only the CAPCOM talks to you guys, but Sarah knows the deep distinctions of solar arrays, batteries, radioisotope thermoelectric generators, charge controllers, regulators, and the wiring you’ll encounter. She was on her way out but I had someone tackle her before she could leave the building and explain what you need to do.”

  “Okay gentlemen,” Neville said, “it may sound simple to pull out a few solar panels and hook ’em up to the LRV, but any time you mix electronics, solar panels, 1960s technology, foreign components, and batteries, it gets a little complicated.”

  “A little?” DeSantos said.

  “Sarah, this is Uzi. I’m gonna be taking the lead here. Main thing is, can we do this?”

  “Yes. And even though my stomach is growling something fierce, I’ll help you through it. I’m familiar with the LRV and I’ve got my trusty calculator in front of me. I’m calling up the original Boeing operations handbook right now.”

  The Spider lurched and DeSantos, Uzi, and Carson bumped into one another—but hung on.

  “So I’m extrapolating a bit since we’ve got a little more info on the older Chang’e 3 and 4, but the 5 shouldn’t be too different. Should be four arrays, two larger ones on the lander and two smaller ones on the rover. The largest are likely a little over a square meter each. Round down the raw solar power flux to 1,300 watts per square meter and assume 25 percent cell efficiency and 85 percent fill factor, since there’s a nonworking area in the noncell portion of an array. Each lander array can produce … hang on while I punch this in … okay, 276 watts. So we’ll say 250 watts per square meter of panel. That assumes it’s pointing right at the sun. You’d probably get 100 watts each on the rover’s panels. You with me so far?”

  “This is DeSantos. I lost you as soon as you said ‘power flux’ and ‘watts per square meter.’”

  “I’m the geek here,” Uzi said. “And I’m with you. So that’s the supply side. How about the demand side?”

  “I was getting to that,” Neville said. “Your buggy weighs 463 pounds. The large golf carts that carry tour groups weigh around 3,000 pounds and need about 415 watts—so the 500 watts those two Chang’e arrays generate will work just fine.”

  Stroud swerved a bit left and they nearly went flying. “Sorry about that, guys.”

  “And we take the batteries too,” DeSantos said. “Right? I mean, those are essential because they’ll store the power the panels generate.”

  Uzi gave him a look. DeSantos winked back.

  “Yes, very good. You’re absolutely right. The batteries will make it a whole lot easier for you. And if you need to use the LRV in shadows or darkness, you’ll be able to.”

  “How much time will it take us to remove the solar stuff from the Chang’e and install it in the LRV?” DeSantos asked.

  “Figure on at least three hours,” Neville said. “You’ll be working in pressure suits with thick, clumsy gloves. You won’t have the mobility, flexibility, and dexterity you’re used to. Not to mention the lander wasn’t designed to be user serviceable. Add it all up, it won’t be quick.”

  “Three hours,” Stroud said. “Jesus. At least when we disconnect the lander’s power source, we might be able to cross off one of our mission objectives. I doubt the Chang’e can make the journey back without its power pack.”

  “I’ll try to get you an answer on that as well,” Maddox said. “But to be safe, disable it completely.”

  “That all we need to know?” Stroud asked.

  Neville laughed.

  “I didn’t mean that as a joke.”

  “But it was funny. No, that’s not it, not by a long shot. I’ll have to look up your latitude and calculate how high you’ll need to mount the panels. I don’t know if this is possible, but it’d be best to have a movable mount so you can position it toward the sun if you change direction. Pain in the ass—much easier if you had a two-motor pan tilt so you can point right at the sun without having to manually do it, but we can’t be picky when you’re on another celestial body and using decades-old tech.”

  “We’ll make it work,” Uzi said.

  “Last thing,” Neville said. “Power usage. If we assume you’ll be traveling three to ten kilometers per hour and on slopes no more than ten degrees—both of which seem reasonable given where you are—the buggy will use about 108 to 216 watt-hours per kilometer. The LRV’s got a 36 volt battery. But the power draw is more per kilometer if you’re going slower because it takes longer to drive that same distance.”

  “Now that,” DeSantos said, “is something I understand. Driving faster is better.”

  “Spoken by the guy who drives a Corvette,” Uzi said.

  “When you’re ready to start, let me know. Assuming someone can bring me some chow, I’ll hang around here on standby. I’m sure you’ll have questions.”

  “No doubt,” Uzi said. “Thanks Sarah.”

  “It’s me again, boys,” Maddox said. “We’ve been tracking the Russian spacecraft and I need to amend our previous ETA. They’re approximately six hours off your position.”

  “On that note, gentlemen,” Stroud said as he slowed, “our tour bus is now pulling up alongside the Chang’e 5. This is our last stop. All passengers must exit the train.”

  Uzi, DeSantos, and Carson climbed down from the Spider and off they went.

  49

  Black Site

  Alex Rusakov looked from Vail to Knox. “So let me get this straight. Evgeny Kirilenko, the guy whose latent was on the router antenna in Karen’s garage, not only was he former KGB and FSB but he now works for Ronck, the Russian company whose former CEO is Mikhail Uglov, the Russian diplomat, who also used to work for the KGB?”

  “Sounds like you’ve got it right,” Knox said.

  “Things are starting to come together,” Tasset said. “But the lines are intersecting and leading to some disturbing conclusions.”

  “And,” McNamara said, “I checked in with Homeland Security and the Diplomatic Security Service. Uglov’s print and facial recognition algorithm matches the ones we have on file for the Russian diplomat of the same name, so they’re the same person. Just to be sure, I asked for confirmation.”

  Vail elbowed Rusakov. “We need to talk with this guy.”

  “I’ll see if I can set something up,” Knox said. “He’s a diplomat. A Russian diplomat. Not gonna be easy.”

  Tasset frowned. “I’d say there’s zero chance he talks with us.”

  “Might be possible to corner him. I’ll ask Diplomatic Security where and when he eats or gets coffee, and you two can happen to be there.”

  “See what you can do,” McNamara said. “This guy could be a key to what’s been going on.”

  Tasset’s phone rang. He listened a moment then angled the handset away from his mouth. “Uglov’s at Dulles, booked on a flight due to leave for Russia in forty minutes.”

  “Jesus,” Vail said as she backed toward the door. “I know he’s a diplomat, but do whatever you gotta do … just delay that flight until we can get there.”

  50

  Taurus-Littrow Valley

  DeSantos watched as Uzi and Carson removed panels, pried off access doors, and cursed as they fought one obstacle after another. Neville was not kidding when she said the Chang’e was not designed to be “user serviceable.”

  While they worked on the solar array, DeSantos conferred with Maddox on a solution for their lack of fuel.

  “I know you don’t want to hear this, Hector, but there’s no way to fill up your tank. I’ve got a team working on it and they’ve discussed asking the R
ussians if it’d be possible for them to take you up with them when they lift off, but I don’t have to tell you what the price would be.”

  “Caesarium.”

  “As a starting point. They’d have a list of demands, from lifting sanctions, to Syria, to removing our missile shield in eastern Europe. Not to mention NATO. And we’d be in no position to negotiate.”

  “So that’s obviously off the list,” DeSantos said. “Are we—are we missing an obvious solution? We’ve got a Chinese spacecraft right in front of us filled with fuel. Why don’t we just siphon it off?”

  Maddox laughed. “Sorry. I realize you’re serious and that seems like a logical solution, but you don’t siphon fuel from a rocket engine the way you do from a car. These fuels are not only highly flammable but really nasty chemicals, the kind you don’t want to have any contact with.”

  “So I guess that was a stupid question.”

  “Uninformed,” Maddox said. “But not stupid. Another major obstacle is the fittings. I doubt they’re compatible.”

  “Fittings?”

  “When these rockets are fueled with propellant, it’s done in a high-tech facility with all sorts of ground support equipment. They hook up the tanks through a fill/drain valve and pump up the tank. Then they button down the spacecraft. They’d de-tank, or offload, the fuel, if they had to, through that same valve. And here’s the rub—the valve, the fitting, would need to be compatible. I doubt the Chinese and Americans use the same coupling. And because the boiling point of NTO—nitrogen tetroxide—is around seventy degrees Fahrenheit, you need a closed system rather than a siphon. Otherwise, propellant would boil away in the heat of the sunshine on the Moon.”

  Uzi leaned away from the solar array, screwdriver in hand. “Bob, we’ve got a 3D printer on board the Raptor. Why can’t you upload a design and we’ll print it and use that as the coupler?”

  “Well, that’s a good question and I’m in way over my head so I don’t have an answer. Give me a few minutes to get a rocket guy in here.”

  Three minutes later, Maddox was introducing Issachar Makonnen.