Eagle Station

Trusting that his copilot knew what she was doing, he swung the spaceplane around so that its five main rocket motors were pointing back against their direction of travel. He inched the throttles forward slightly, igniting a quick, low-powered burn to shed fifty miles per hour of relative speed. Their thrusters could have done the same job, but, tactically speaking, right now hydrazine was more precious than JP-8 and BOHM.

“Contact now at nine o’clock. Zero relative velocity,” the S-29’s computer intoned. “Range fifty yards.”

Looking out the left side of the cockpit, Miller saw the fuel stack’s two refueling booms unlatch. They unfolded, extending outward into space in opposite directions. Suddenly, puffs of gas showed that the tiny thrusters on each boom end were firing almost continuously… working to counteract the fuel stack’s spin. Almost imperceptibly, the rate of rotation slowed… and then… stopped.

With a sigh of relief, Craig lifted her fingertips off her multifunction displays. She turned toward Miller with shining eyes. “Ready to proceed with refueling, Dusty.”

He shook his head in admiration. “That was nice work, Major. And damned quick thinking.”

Her cheeks dimpled slightly. “All in a day’s work for an honest-to-God space fighter pilot, sir.”

From that point on, their deep-space refueling operation was almost routine. A couple of quick thruster pulses brought the S-29 close enough for the two refueling booms to make contact with its receptacle. Then, one after the other, guided and controlled by Craig, the booms connected — transferring thousands of pounds of BOHM and jet fuel into their tanks.

When they were finished, another short main engine burn took them on out ahead of the now-empty fuel assembly. With their spaceplane’s tanks topped up, Scott Miller and Hannah Craig now had plenty of gas left for a lunar orbit insertion burn… and their return trip to Earth.

Korolev Base, on the Far Side of the Moon

A Short Time Later

Colonel Tian Fan studied the most recent radar images transmitted from the Russian Kondor-L satellite. They showed the American S-29 spaceplane conducting a deep-space rendezvous with what Earth-based intelligence analysts believed was a collection of fuel tanks launched at almost the same time.

Beside him, Kirill Lavrentyev was looking at the same pictures. “An impressive demonstration,” the Russian cosmonaut commented. His once-crisp flight suit was grimy, streaked with smudges of moondust. No matter how hard they tried to wipe down their space suits and boots in the habitat module’s air locks, every EVA tracked in more and more of the clingy, finely ground dust — which had been repeatedly pulverized by billions of years of meteor and asteroid impacts. A faint, acrid smell like that of burnt gunpowder hung in the air. “I wouldn’t have thought refueling a spacecraft so far from Earth was possible.”

“Our adversaries seem determined to add to their list of firsts,” Tian agreed sourly. “This one makes them even more dangerous. With extra fuel aboard, that spaceplane can go into orbit and conduct multiple passes over this base.”

Lavrentyev shrugged. “It won’t matter. Our plasma rail gun will destroy the S-29 in its first orbit.” Tiredly, he wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. It came away covered in sweat and ground-in dirt. His nose wrinkled as he stood up. “Gah. I need a wash.”

Tian nodded sympathetically. Although showers were theoretically possible in the moon’s one-sixth gravity, the need to ration their scarce water meant washing involved either disposable wipes or barely moistened cloths. Neither was a particularly effective means of getting clean.

He watched the burly Russian pass through the curtain-draped door separating the small command center from the rest of the habitat. Then he turned back to the radar images on his computer screen with a thoughtful frown. The taikonaut understood his counterpart’s need to express absolute confidence in Russia’s advanced energy weapon. But it wasn’t a confidence he shared. The evasive maneuvers developed by the Americans during their war games around Eagle Station might give that S-29 spaceplane a good chance to close within striking range before it was destroyed. With that in mind, it would be wise to take his own precautions.

Tian turned toward the command center’s other occupant. Captain Shan Jinai was the officer on duty, tasked with monitoring their communications gear and sensor data from the Kondor radar satellite. “I have some work for you, Captain.”

“Yes, sir?” the younger man said.

“When your shift is finished, I need you to make another EVA,” Tian told him. “I want your Chang’e-Thirteen lander prepped for a possible rapid launch.”