Paul Foster waited.
The Russian mobile rig “Sovatec” came closer, cutting deep furrows into the dusted surface of the Moon. If he couldn’t stop the large runaway vehicle, nobody other could and it would crash into Moonbase. He had to stop it, no matter how.
Paul took a deep breath.
A few yards left.
He flexed his muscles and cowered, waiting for the right moment. ‘Like a cat on the hunt for a mouse,’ he thought amused.
As the huge pair of front wheels passed him, he jumped, gripping with both hands at the steel bar beside the emergency exit.