The Raven High

by Yuri Hamaganov

  “Olga, I watched your training session while preparing your lunch. Your jump shot looks good. I think you’re good enough to make the junior national team.”

  “I need a partner here. There’s so much I can’t learn without a good partner.”

  “It’s a pity I’m too tall to play with you. But soon I’ll receive the components to build a new simulator for you with a much stronger presence effect. Then you’ll play with a worthy opponent.”

  Olga drank from her thermos with unconcealed pleasure. Then her lively gray eyes narrowed. “Is there tonic in this stuff?” she asked in a low voice.

  “Of course. Your head will work better with it. I repeat, you’re doing everything correctly. Only try to worry and strain less. Find and rectify your errors and under no circumstance lose self-control. Don’t panic. Understand?”

  Olga nodded as she stared into her flask. “But I’ve learned from the library that they haven’t docked manually in sixty years—it’s done automatically now. What’s the point of teaching me how to use obsolete procedures on outdated equipment?”

  “For the simple reason, my smartest little girl, that if you wish to achieve mastery you ought to start from the basics. If you are a navigator, you must know how to operate the sextant and compass, and if you are a radioman, you must know all about the transmitting key. Besides, even the most advanced hardware may fail.” The nanny’s face became strict. “I’m an android telling you this. Finished drinking? Ready?”

  “Ready!”

  The forward porthole in the command room shone with light from the sun. The House was now on the day side and without the semitransparent light filters on the portholes, the sun rays would have blinded them.

  “Mikhail, we’re ready,” Arina announced. Petrov instantly popped up on the screen. He was holding a huge sandwich in one red hand.

  “Another couple of minutes,” the curator mumbled with his mouth full. “We’ll come on the night shift and start.”

  The dazzling glow in the porthole vanished. The light filter dropped, revealing an endless transparent darkness full of stars. Then red operating light came on again.

  “Cadet Voronov, are you ready for the exercise?” Mikhail asked in a thunderous voice.

  Olga sat down in the operator armchair. The belt automatically fastened as she rested her hands on the panel, her palms tingling with the weak electric discharges of the sensors and weightless screens opened before her eyes.

  “Cadet Voronov is ready!” the girl replied.

  “Here’s an incident injection. A medium-class cargo ship awaits loading at the Leningrad-5 terminal. The task is to carry out loading as per the cargo manifest, remove the ship from the dock, bring it to the High House station, and moor it to the pier. Understood?”

  “Yes, Comrade Petrov! Will there be extra contingencies in the performance of the mission?”

  Petrov chuckled. “Naturally. The major and minor difficulties that make all astronauts’ lives unbearable but awfully exciting. The mission performance time is eighty-two minutes. The clock has started!”

  Eighty minutes and twenty-two seconds later, the Aviators’ March heralded the successful completion of the mission. After skillfully repairing a puncture caused by a micrometeorite and adroitly dodging a disabled ship on her way, Olga managed to bring the truck to its place of destination.

  “Attention!” the computer sang in its feminine voice. “The exercise is over; the docking is carried out. Marks: X-0, Y-0. Speed in contact is one point fifteen meters per second. Docking unit undamaged. Evaluation grade for exercise—nine out of twelve points.”

  “Well done, Raven! I see my little talk has done its work!” Arina smiled tactfully at the curator’s glee and then winked at Olga. Petrov wished them goodnight and disappeared.

  “You’ve manually brought the truck to the High House in your sixth attempt while coping with multiple emergencies,” Arina said. “That’s why Petrov was in a hurry to go, not to praise you too much. As for me, I won’t spare you praises because you’ve shown the skill everybody expects from you! I’ll throw you a grand party!”

  To mark the successful docking, the nanny decided to cancel the regular dinner and decorated the table with candles, a sour cream cake, muffins with bananas and red currants, fruit salad, three multicolored versions of the iceberg ice cream, and baked pudding.

  “Starting tomorrow, you’ll fly one training flight each day,” Arina said, observing with pleasure the girl enjoying the meal. “As time goes on, there’ll be more piloting lessons in addition to your standard drills. The syllabus will become markedly complicated so you won’t be bored.”

  “But, Arina, training is such a simple thing! I want to pilot a real ship!”

  Arina patted the girl’s shoulder. “In a year or two, when the factory construction nearly completed. Everything is ahead of us.”

  “Two years,” Olga grumbled. Her eyelids kept closing and then flying open as she fought to stay awake.

  “Time will fly fast. Now wash your face and go to bed. Congratulations again, dear Olga. You’re becoming the mistress of the High House!”

  Author's note: Olga Voronov, the main character of my novel, is often called the «Raven» simply because of “voron” (ворон) in Russian means “raven”. And, as it should be a raven, she is as smart and sometimes dangerous.

  CHAPTER TWO: STROLL

  July–August 2086

  “And one, and two, and three, and four, and one, and two, and three, and four! Look alive, Olga! Straighten your back! And one, and two, and three, and four. Okay, that’s enough.”

  The ground floor of the High House was ablaze with a warm yellow light. The wide windows opened onto a meadow backdropped by blue and snow-capped mountains in the distance. Birds sang, and bees buzzed over the field of purple wildflowers. A brook murmured at the edge of the meadow.

  Olga rose from the bright blue gymnastics mat, inhaled deeply, and took a pair of red sixteen-kilogram dumbbells from Arina.

  “Set your feet shoulder-width apart and lower your arms. And one, and two, and one, and two. Raise your arms smoothly. Don’t think about the weight. Don’t strain your wrists. And one, and two, and one and two.”

  The girl smoothly lifted and lowered the dumbbells twenty times.

  “A minute’s break,” Arina said, “and then your breathing exercises.”

  “Am I to try on of the spacesuit scheduled for today? And I take my first spacewalk soon?” Olga asked. It was hard to tell from her whether if she was glad or not.

  “Your curator insists that you develop correct breathing skills, so drill hard. Imagine you’ve been in open space for many hours and your oxygen is exhausted. All that remains is enough for a single breath. Fill your lungs and start to warm up. You must hold out for five minutes. The clock has started.”

  The girl took a deep breath and began a series of gymnastic exercises.

  “Well done, Olga! Work quickly but without hurry. Control your body, check the blood flow in your veins. Don’t the heart beat too fast. Move as accurately as you can—unwanted movements will cause death. Push away the pain. Think of nothing but the mission. Come on, Olga, you can stand it for five minutes. Your life depends on this!”

  At the three hundred and tenth second, the girl fell exhausted on the floor, gasping for air.

  “Excellent, Olga! I appreciate your persistence and dedication to the cause—worthy attributes of a pilot.” Arina smiled and held out a glass of mineral water.

  “Thank you. Tell me, are you androids taught just as harshly?”

  “And how! But we use quite different lessons. We have no need for breathing exercises.”

  “How lucky you are. And Uncle Mikhail used to study like this when he was young?”

  “Naturally. But judging from his waistline he should repeat the course. Ah, I’m talking too much. It is time to try on the spacesuit. Operating mode!”

  The yellow lighting was replaced a clinical white, and the murmuring of
the brook was cut off as the meadow behind the windows gave way to the blackness of space. Olga rolled up the mat and bounced after Arina Rodionovna. In another month, she would leave the High House for the infinite universe beyond its walls.

  “Olga Voronov,” Arina said as they returned to the command room, “today I outfit you for your debut into society. Of course, I’m no fairy godmother but I’ll fit you out for a party in a grand style.”

  Arina opened a massive metallic box, tilted back the lid, and presented Olga with a spacesuit striped in bright red, yellow and black.

  “At last!” the girl exclaimed.

  “Model TSK-8, my personal design. I know you like tigers. This is the Academy’s suit specifically tailored to you, Olga. Not some silly kid’s suit for a quick flight to the Moon. This is your evening dress, your working overalls, your basketball jersey, and your knight’s armor all in one. You’ve seen similar models on the simulator; now you can touch it in real life. Soon you’ll make your debut in this suit—sooner than I would like, in truth. You must use the remaining time to study it thoroughly since your life will depend on it. Let’s began the inspection.”

  Olga knelt, took a sleeve, and unsuccessfully tried to stretch the fabric. She brought the sleeve up to her face. The interactive lenses implanted in her eyes instantly magnified tenfold, and Olga could see that the fabric was composed of a mass of tiny scales, interconnected like ancient chainmail.

  “This type of fabric is called a metallic web,” Arina said. “It resists both the velocity and acuteness of punctures, and incendiary jellies or acid will run off it like water. It withstands intensive heating and exposure to strong radiation. Besides, the fabric is very light and soft. Come on, get dressed. But take your time. As you probably remember from a training film and simulator drills, you must disconnect the rigid collar lock and then neatly open up the central seam.”

  Olga kicked off her slippers and began to put on the suit. Her movements became smooth, almost artificially so, as her fingers confidently manipulated the locks and fasteners. It took just three seconds for her to dress completely.

  “Good girl. You’ve met the requirement.” Arina scanned the suit to see whether it fit the girl. “After each half-year, the Corporation will replace the obsolete suits with improved versions.”

  “The left shoe seems to be a little too big.”

  “Gently touch the sensor on your ankle.”

  Olga did so and the shoe shrank slightly, embracing her foot.

  “Fits me fine,” the girl replied.

  “It should fit tightly without hampering your movements or constricting your circulation. On we go. Each pants leg has four flapped pockets. The patches on your knees are reinforced by a factor of ten. Use them as your shield if you must. It might seem that getting injured in weightlessness is almost impossible, but after the very first heavy shock you’ll appreciate their merits.”

  With great admiration and curiosity, Olga opened and closed the pockets, then stroked the reinforced kneepads.

  “Next comes the belt, one of the most important components. What is it you’ve got on your right hip?”

  Olga touched the fastening arrangement on her right leg. “I suppose this is instrument-aided unloading, but right now it’s empty.”

  “That’s right, smart girl! What’s there in the buckle? Think! What saves people in space in case of emergency?”

  Olga wrinkled her forehead, recalling an education video and drills on a simulator: images on the screen, a voice overboard, and the suit drawings—an enormous flow of growing data.

  “This is a standby control computer for using if the main component in the helmet fails.”

  “That’s right. Use it only when the main system breaks down—never, I hope. Now what do you have on your left hip?”

  Olga’s fingers touched a small metallic cylinder.

  “The injection kit, fully furnished. It’s nice to have, though I don’t fall ill often.”

  “You are unwell very seldom thanks to my care, but the medical kit is an extremely useful device. Over time, you’ll have to learn its mechanics and how to repair it—and, if necessary, how to replenish it. The device continuously monitors several basic parameters of your condition and can immediately give you efficient medical aid if need be. Now, what’s that on the small of your back?”

  “It must be a standby battery. Aha, here it is, like a big tablet. Am I doing fine? I’ve become a perfect astronaut!”

  “Over time, you’ll drill your movements until you can find the right tool with your eyes closed, in any position and even in a semi-conscious condition. Let’s continue.”

  Olga closed her eyes. Her fingers moved more confidently over her belt, checking the reliability of the outfit fastenings.

  “Now the sleeves. As you can see, the gloves are seamless. They are fitted right after you put your fingers into them. Mind the so-called thimbles affixed to each finger. What do you think they are for?”

  “For protecting my fingers and strengthening their grip?”

  “That’s half right. They accentuate the strength of your fingers. You can fold a five-ruble coin in half almost effortlessly. So you must use the thimbles carefully, calculating the strain correctly not to damage the equipment you’ll handle. The proper dexterity comes with practice. Try now, but be careful.”

  Arina handed Olga a short metal rod the thickness of a pencil.

  “This is a plant reinforcement component, a remarkably durable thing. Bend it slowly and smoothly with your thumb, but don’t break it.”

  Olga squeezed the rod, pressing it with the pad of her thumb and watching with surprise as it bends as if made of hot plastic.

  “See how easily you grasp the skills! Now give it here.” Arina unbent the rod with a quick, adroit movement.

  Little Olga looks up at her nanny with huge eyes. “Should I put on the backpack?”

  “Don’t rush things! We aren’t through with the sleeves yet. Look at the patches protecting your elbows. And just like the pant legs there are four pockets on each sleeve. See the connectors for mounting the tools and shoulder patches for protecting the shoulder joints. Okay, now you can take out the backpack.”

  With a marked effort, Olga pulled out a metallic backpack resembling a metal gas can. She ran her fingers over the straps, carefully examining the numerous connectors.

  “This is the heart of your suit. It will support your life when you are outside the High House. It’s an extremely sophisticated and costly system but relatively simple to use. It holds a twenty-four-hour supply of oxygen. The regenerator cartridges will give you an additional three hours. The suit also has a power supply, climate control system, micro-rockets for independent travel, and a ration of food. Let me help you put this on. Turn around.”

  Olga turned and Arina neatly slung the backpack on her shoulders. The girl felt the straps tighten automatically, bringing the backpack closer to her back. The connectors that link the air supply hoses close with a snap.

  “You’re nearly ready. Is it too heavy? Is the stress on your shoulders distributed evenly?”

  “I can feel the weight, but it doesn’t hamper me at all. Lifting the dumbbells has been good for me!”

  Arina smiled. “Turn left, and now right. Walk on to the wall, turn around again, and walk back to me. Good!”

  Olga looked in the mirror and curtsied, then slowly slid down into splits.

  “How does it feel?”

  “It feels like my skin. What a miracle! It’s like I’ve been in it all my life. It’s like a fairy tale about a magic suit!”

  Arina smiled, recalling an old tale she had thought up during her training about how to explain to her ward complicated things in simple terms. Humans often spoke it these analogies and sometimes that required her to improvise.

  “May I put on the helmet now?”

  “You may!”

  The girl lifted a black-striped helmet from the chest. “Almost weightless!”

  “This
is carbon plastic on a metallic frame with reinforced glass. Once you put it on, it immediately connects to the collar, seals the suit, and starts up the oxygen and power supply. Check the suit readiness on the indicator. Are the red lights on? Good. Off we go!”

  Olga raised the helmet over her head and stood immobile for a second. She quickly lowered it and snapped it to the suit collar, then sharply brought her hands to her head.

  “Lift the light filter or you won’t see anything.”

  The dark blurred stripe in front of Olga disappeared, revealing Arina. The girl inaudibly moved her lips.

  “Use your eyes to shift the pointer to the speaker icon. Remember, your helmet is soundproof.”

  “I understand,” Olga’s voice came from a tiny speaker on her right shoulder.

  “How do you feel, Raven?”

  “Like I’m a fish in an aquarium.”

  “How’s the air?”

  “It’s clean, odorless but dry. How can I increase the humidity?” Olga’s voice sounded a bit guilty as she asked this.

  “Is the general menu in front of you?”

  “Yes. I’ve arranged the icons in a row under the visor.”

  “Find the submenu, then raise the water vapor by a point or two. Don’t hurry. We’ve got heaps of time.”

  “I see. Will do it now. Also, I’ll reduce the temperature and scent the air with fir!”

  “Try the smell of wood after the rain. But have it time out after a short period or it’ll make you sleepy.”

  “There’s a ration here. May I taste it?”

  “Just one tablet. Wash it down with water.” Arina sat on a stool and stared at Olga through the helmet glass. “There are some things about the spacesuit you need to be aware of. Like any other machine it will do precisely what you ask it to, nothing more or less. The spacesuit will function exactly the way you tell it to and at the parameters you set for it. If something goes wrong, it’ll be your fault alone. Normally, you operate the suit by thought via the neuro-interface. Head thinks, the machine does. Go ahead!”