1800 hours, 19th November 1966
Soyuz-7k-3 landing site, Sinus Medi, Luna
Lieutenant Richard Daniels, Joint Government Marines, could see nothing but darkness. This was to be expected, since it was the middle of the lunar month (as measured by the Chinese lunar calendar), meaning that the nearside of the moon was facing away from the sun – and would continue to do so for the next week or so.
He shrugged once to ease his body into the Mk. VI Suitport, and looked directly upward.
The full Earth glittered in the lunar night, a blue orb sheathed in white cloud, reminding the lieutenant what he was fighting for.
He tilted his helmeted head downward, and tapped a button on his wrist, activating his cap-mounted starlight/IR scope. The moonscape in front of him – a grey, featureless, plain of lunar dirt (tinted green by the scope) – came into view.
The brightest feature on his scope (besides the glowing orb a light-second above) was a glowing dot, approximately half a kilometer away – the Lunakhod 1 lunar rover, the only piece of Soviet equipment at the site fitted with a radioisotope thermal generator.
Designed to characterize the landing site for the LK lander (and, in a pinch, transport the landed cosmonaut to a backup lander for return-to-orbit), the solar-powered lander could only function during the 14-day long lunar day.
As such, Lieutenant Daniels, and his team of military astronauts, had been sent to inspect the landing site of the first Soviet manned lunar landing (by none other than the Office for National Intelligence) at night.
Their mission had actually begun a week ago, when, as night fell across the lunar surface, Lieutenant Daniels and his team had set off from the lunar base (and strip mine) at Yeager, Mare Tranquilitatis. Their Mobile Surface Laboratory (a large, enclosed caravan powered by a thermomechanical Sr-90 RTG and a CARBOX liquid methane fuel cell) had taken the better part of a week to navigate the 500 kilometers or so of broken terrain to the Soviet landing site, and remote observations (with a small, fuel-celled rover) had occupied another two days.
The light in Daniels’ helmet changed to green (indicating that the airlock on his suit’s backpack had sealed), and Daniels disengaged his suit from the outer hull of the Mobile Surface Laboratory.
He jumped, landing on the powdery regolith with a soft thud.
Five other figures, clad in identical hardsuits, followed.
The Soviet landing site consisted of three individual elements, separated from each other by a kilometer or so: the Lunakhod rover (to scope out the site and serve as a beacon for the landers to follow); a backup L-1 lander (in case the primary failed), and an L-1 lander (to ferry the cosmonaut, in this case Alexey Leonov, to and from the lunar surface).
Since the primary L-1 lander had crashed into the moon (after transferring Leonov to an orbiting Soyuz spacecraft) half a year ago, and the Lunakhod Rover was too functional to discreetly inspect, the only thing the Office of National Intelligence could inspect was the backup lander.
Said lander was now a mere hundred meters away.
The six astronauts moved quickly over the lunar surface, stirring up clouds of thin, powdery, electrostatically charged regolith, which hovered over the lunar surface like a thin bank of fog – and coated matte-grey hardsuits (optimized for military operations) with patches of dirty grey.
Mission specialist Clara Wu, lugging the bulky cart of instruments and work lights, was the last to arrive at the site. With a smoothness that could only have come from repeated practice (the team had inspected a Soviet Luna lander just the previous month), the team went to work erecting lights around the site, taking care not to trip over any wires – or hit the fully-fuelled lander.
While the incident had officially never occurred, everyone remembered the disastrous Kosmos 345 retrieval mission, which ended with a damaged shuttle, no useful intelligence, and three astronauts in body bags.
Lt. Daniels gave the signal, and six astronauts turned off their starlight scopes. Four work lights came to life, bathing the lander in a harsh glow, giving Lt. Daniels his first good look at the lander.
A tiny, bug-shaped affair with a bulbous, open crew compartment (capable of seating one cosmonaut) atop a cylindrical engine compartment, resting on four squat legs, the LK-1 was utilitarian, inelegant, and somewhat ugly.
Just like any spacecraft, thought the Lieutenant. Finding the scene before him visually striking, he pressed a button on his chest, and his suit-mounted camera clicked once.
It would be a cold day in hell before JOINTGOV let the Soviet Union sneak up on the moon without knowing what technologies they were using to do so.
END