now.
Originally, they hadn’t planned on this kind of approach. Originally, they’d planned on a leisurely reconnaissance, two or three days in Lunar polar orbit, taking photographs, making telescopic inspections of the seven known American bases, of the dozens of landing sites and hundreds of traverse tracks left behind all those years ago, then go down, probably at Peary, and see what was what. But we thought, with our conservative approach, with our commitment to a “heroic dash,” that we’d beat the Arabs here by months, maybe even years. Twelve minutes.
The speaker rasped, full of static, Chen Li’s voice: “Recon reports an American launch from California, several minutes ago. Very small. Possibly a missile of some kind.” Eleven minutes.
A missile. Bag us with nuclear warheads, take out their old base as well, for whatever reason? Ming Tian ’s particle beam weapon might be able to deal with such a threat. He exchanged glances with Chang and Da Chai. Not quite worried glances. “Well, we should have a day or two.” Ten minutes.
Chen Li: “Recon reports they took off at fifteen gee. Accelerated to approximately forty kilometers per second before burnout.” Chen Li’s voice very flat. Word tones somewhat subdued, attenuated by static as well, making his phrases sound uncertain, ambiguous.
Da Chai said, “ Forty ...” Nine minutes.
Chang Wushi said, “Then they’ll be here in about...”
Ling said, “Three hours or so.” No sense breaking out a calculator. Eight minutes.
And Ling said, “They. But if it’s only a missile...”
Da Chai said, “Not something we can... wager on. Wager our lives.”
“No.” Seven minutes. Outside, the Moon was looking more and more like a slanting plain, less and less like a round yellow world. Climbing up to meet them now, Peary a bright circle, the squashed ringwall between it and Rozhdestvenskiy forming up into tall, rounded, bulging peaks and dark valleys. Old news stories say the Americans found plenty of fossil ice on the back side of these mountains. Six minutes. Those were the same mountains where the Lakota chieftain Red Hawk and his Mohican ally Chingachgook hid their revolutionary band, not so far from the Lost City of Koriolanis, where Dorian Haldane met his lady love. Five minutes.
Chang and Da Chai turned away, began strapping themselves in, focusing attention on their instruments. Too late now to worry about American missiles. Or whatever. Time now to worry about hardware. And lives. Four minutes.
Ling strapped in, still looking out the window, listening to their technical chatter. Strange to be a passenger in my own space craft. A passenger, after all these years. A wonder they let me come at all. Three minutes.
Well. I am the Chief Designer. I suppose they figured if anything went seriously wrong, I could fix it. Should have chosen Chen Li. Two minutes.
Moon outside a whole world now, as expected. Rolling hills ripping by below, mountains reaching up to pluck them from the sky. So glad I’m here. So very glad. One minute.
Long, long eternity of fear. Time enough to wonder how I’ll feel if... The engines fired after all, and down they went to a white-lit Moon.
o0o
Through some oversight, al-Qamar ’s Lunar rover never had a name. Maybe no one thought such a vehicle, like some huge go-kart, like the ORVs so popular with modern Tuaregs, deserved to have a name. Bounding now over the rolling charcoal hills of Peary’s floor, the four of them were clipped to their seats, watching the mountains grow larger, watching al-Qamar , where Mahal and Tariq stood watch as they knew they must, grow smaller, until it was no more than a golden freckle out on a darkling plain.
Six kilometers, thought Alireza. I could have done better. Now though, they rolled up in front of the Americans’ old geodesic dome, rolled through the wreckage of their abandoned hardware, rolled across the blackened star patterns of their old landing sites, rolled to a
Originally, they hadn’t planned on this kind of approach. Originally, they’d planned on a leisurely reconnaissance, two or three days in Lunar polar orbit, taking photographs, making telescopic inspections of the seven known American bases, of the dozens of landing sites and hundreds of traverse tracks left behind all those years ago, then go down, probably at Peary, and see what was what. But we thought, with our conservative approach, with our commitment to a “heroic dash,” that we’d beat the Arabs here by months, maybe even years. Twelve minutes.
The speaker rasped, full of static, Chen Li’s voice: “Recon reports an American launch from California, several minutes ago. Very small. Possibly a missile of some kind.” Eleven minutes.
A missile. Bag us with nuclear warheads, take out their old base as well, for whatever reason? Ming Tian ’s particle beam weapon might be able to deal with such a threat. He exchanged glances with Chang and Da Chai. Not quite worried glances. “Well, we should have a day or two.” Ten minutes.
Chen Li: “Recon reports they took off at fifteen gee. Accelerated to approximately forty kilometers per second before burnout.” Chen Li’s voice very flat. Word tones somewhat subdued, attenuated by static as well, making his phrases sound uncertain, ambiguous.
Da Chai said, “ Forty ...” Nine minutes.
Chang Wushi said, “Then they’ll be here in about...”
Ling said, “Three hours or so.” No sense breaking out a calculator. Eight minutes.
And Ling said, “They. But if it’s only a missile...”
Da Chai said, “Not something we can... wager on. Wager our lives.”
“No.” Seven minutes. Outside, the Moon was looking more and more like a slanting plain, less and less like a round yellow world. Climbing up to meet them now, Peary a bright circle, the squashed ringwall between it and Rozhdestvenskiy forming up into tall, rounded, bulging peaks and dark valleys. Old news stories say the Americans found plenty of fossil ice on the back side of these mountains. Six minutes. Those were the same mountains where the Lakota chieftain Red Hawk and his Mohican ally Chingachgook hid their revolutionary band, not so far from the Lost City of Koriolanis, where Dorian Haldane met his lady love. Five minutes.
Chang and Da Chai turned away, began strapping themselves in, focusing attention on their instruments. Too late now to worry about American missiles. Or whatever. Time now to worry about hardware. And lives. Four minutes.
Ling strapped in, still looking out the window, listening to their technical chatter. Strange to be a passenger in my own space craft. A passenger, after all these years. A wonder they let me come at all. Three minutes.
Well. I am the Chief Designer. I suppose they figured if anything went seriously wrong, I could fix it. Should have chosen Chen Li. Two minutes.
Moon outside a whole world now, as expected. Rolling hills ripping by below, mountains reaching up to pluck them from the sky. So glad I’m here. So very glad. One minute.
Long, long eternity of fear. Time enough to wonder how I’ll feel if... The engines fired after all, and down they went to a white-lit Moon.
o0o
Through some oversight, al-Qamar ’s Lunar rover never had a name. Maybe no one thought such a vehicle, like some huge go-kart, like the ORVs so popular with modern Tuaregs, deserved to have a name. Bounding now over the rolling charcoal hills of Peary’s floor, the four of them were clipped to their seats, watching the mountains grow larger, watching al-Qamar , where Mahal and Tariq stood watch as they knew they must, grow smaller, until it was no more than a golden freckle out on a darkling plain.
Six kilometers, thought Alireza. I could have done better. Now though, they rolled up in front of the Americans’ old geodesic dome, rolled through the wreckage of their abandoned hardware, rolled across the blackened star patterns of their old landing sites, rolled to a
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