SUNGLASESS AND ROCKETS Part 2: The Machine

A FORCED LANDING

Unaware of our tribulations, Mariachi continued giving out instructions:

"3 more degrees."

"Hit the other one!" the doctor ordered.

"The fissures," I pointed out frightened. "They're expanding."

I was afraid that the shuttle would break into pieces and its crew would be shot off to empty space.

Unfortunately, the doctor did not share my opinion.

"Hit it!" he ordered again. "Now!"

I grabbed the hatchet by the shaft and delivered a terrific blow.

One second later, the doctor and I suffered a dreadful impact that smashed us against the wall. Right under my nose, the fuselage was opening...

"On course to Vallarta. Keep it straight," Mariachi was transmitting.

And Darwin, like a totally experienced pilot, responded:

"Roger. We are on course."

"Darwin, do not touch anything!" the doctor broke in.

"We are entering the shadow!" the "fake" pilot replied from the front. "And I haven't touched anything!"

Still there, smashed against the wall and paralyzed by panic, I marveled. It was incredible that the trick was paying off. The nitrogen tanks were leading us accurately as the auxiliary thrusters.

I saw how the claw form the frontal view vanished.

Suddenly, everything was wrapped up in a fog. The lights in the cabin had noticeably lowered their intensity. The acceleration was starting to give in. Simultaneously, we were ungluing from the wall.

"Everyone to their seats!" the doctor ordered immediately.

Stimulated by adrenaline, the three crew members maneuvered skillfully in the weightlessness and not touching each other, took back our places in a matter of seconds.

I was still concerned about the fuselage. So before fastening my seat belt, I still allowed myself to look back.

"We'll get there before the shuttle opens up completely," the captain affirmed. "Don't be afraid."

In that case, my despair focused on the dots that were following us. They were gone.

"Where are the Vampires?"

"They're still far."

I turned myself forward again. The captain had fixed his glance on the panel's screen, twinkling in the middle of the penumbra.

"We are in Vallarta," he radioed. "We just got away from a cross fire."

"Roger."

"Verify coordinates."

Darwin heaved and cast his eyes down.

"Where are we going?" he inquired.

"To the lunar east," the captain replied. "To—"

"Cape San Lucas at 20 degrees south; 30 degrees east," Mariachi intervened.

"Roger."

Addressing his crew, the captain explained:

"We're heading to a zone nearby MountArgeus."

Mariachi's voice was heard again.

"Verifying landing area—"

The noise was back again and communication was cut off. In order to acknowledge the area, I got up a bit and looked down. You couldn't see anything. Everything was surrounded by the deepest blackness. We were flying over the dark zone of the visible face.

"We had veered off about 590 miles from our original path..." the doctor explained. "As a safety measure we will land on this face, darkness is on our side."

"Then, we're not going to the other side of the moon anymore?" Darwin inquired.

Certainly, the base was located there.

"Not for now," the doctor said. "We'll wait for instructions on the visible face..."

At that moment, communication with Earth was back:

"Begin deceleration."

"Deceleration begun," the doctor replied and said to us, "MountArgeus is a secure place. We'll be safe there."

"Retro-rockets R-1."

"Go."

"L-1."

"Go."

The codes between the flight controller and the pilot went back and forth at the same rhythm of my eager glances alternating from both ends of the huge front window: stars up above, blackness down below...

The doctor briefly interrupted the communication to Earth in order to inform his crew:

"We're getting close, prepare yourselves."

None of the outer reflectors had been activated. We were traveling through total darkness. Evidently, a spaceship like a Bat, better said, a Vampire had some kind of radar for orientation. Although I wouldn't be able to prove it, I'd dare to assure that at the time being, we were flying over the Sea of Tranquility heading north—we were coming from the southeast of the moon. If everything went well, in a matter of seconds, we should be landing at the north of said territory, in the proximities of MountArgeus, exactly where Sea of Tranquility begins.

Precisely, after a static pause, Mariachi transmitted:

"Three thousand nine hundred feet altitude."

My pulse speeded up.

"Roger. Straightening up the wheelbarrow for descent," Ice cream man replied. "We're going to land."

I heaved a sigh. There were no lights down there and no sign of the ground. Except for the soft blue glare in our cabin, everything out there was pitch black.

"Mariachi, confirm radar indicators," he went on.

Noise.

"Descending 30 feet per second," it was heard all of a sudden.

"Roger. Stabilizing engines."

"Wheelbarrow to four hundred and fifty feet distance."

Darwin and I were panting. Excitement had taken over our small and battered cabin. No sign of the perils that we had just gone through were left.

We were reaching the moon!

A myriad of shining little dots began to cover the windows. It didn't take long before I noticed that they were small whirling dust clouds, reflected on the dimmed red lights from our ship.

Yes. There was ground and it was nearby.

"Thirty feet, twenty feet..." Mariachi counted down.

Suddenly a bounce that shook the spaceship was felt.

"Cantina," the doctor announced victorious. "The ice cream cart has arrived to the beach."