Martin secretly congratulated himself for having talked to his father. Robert would try to aim the large dish of the radio telescope toward ILSE at least once a day. This gave them a communication method no one else knew about, not even his friends and colleagues. Not even Jiaying.
Half an hour later they all squeezed into their spacesuits. Martin had expected higher standards for their gear. The suit Shostakovich wanted his employees to use was less comfortable than the current NASA model. It appeared the billionaire entrepreneur cut corners wherever he could. Fortunately, they had left a large part of their NASA equipment on ILSE.
Martin put on a ‘diaper,’ followed by high tech underclothing with various sensors, and a light pressure suit just in case. It was not quite as cumbersome as before a spacewalk, but he felt 20 kilos heavier and much less agile after suiting up. A technician supervised them while they were putting on their suits, but since they were experienced astronauts, the man did not have much to do. Martin watched Valentina to see whether she would make a mistake, but she had no problems. She has probably already been in space, he thought. He imagined that it must be strange to have a father who owned a space company, and wondered whether Valentina had ever considered becoming a beautician or a teacher.
The technician checked the entire group once more, made sure the biosensors were connected correctly, and asked one last time if everyone was feeling well. Martin automatically felt the urge to urinate, but no, he would not get undressed in front of the others now.
“Let us get going,” the technician said in English. The group started moving. A blast of cold Siberian air greeted them at the door. As the group exited, Martin worried they would be driven to the rocket in an open vehicle, but fortunately a closed van was waiting for them. It was well heated inside, so Martin relaxed and the pressure on his bladder disappeared.
When they reached the launch pad they once more had to face the bitter cold. A sliding door opened into the cramped space of the tower, where the rocket and all its boosters barely fit. This limitation was also indicated by the makeshift construction of the ladders and stairs they took to reach the capsule. A few technicians were still busy reading instruments and removing hoses. It almost seemed as if the Angara 9b was a gigantic baby in an iron womb, waiting to see the light of day.
As it turned out, the ‘light of day’ was murky and gray. When Martin looked a bit to the right, he could see the sky through a round porthole. The tower had just moved to the side. The rocket was stabilized only by scaffolding—or at least that was what it looked like from the outside. In reality, the rocket’s great weight and low center of gravity offered it the best protection against a strong gust of wind. The scaffold only served to allow the staff to perform final checks.
In addition, Hayato, who was cradling Sol in his arm, would very soon use the scaffold to climb down. At the hatch the two of them said goodbye to the commander, and Martin was touched when he saw Amy’s tears. Her son did not seem to understand what this was all about. How did a two-year-old experience time? He would be twice as old when his mother returned. If she returned. No, he said to himself, we all will see Earth again. They had gained valuable experience from the first expedition and knew the problems awaiting them.
Hayato waved one last time. Strapped into their reclining seats, the five space travelers lifted their tired arms and waved back. Then he was gone and the hatch was closed from the outside. Martin heard a creaking sound, and suddenly the air seemed to be stuffy. The five of them now shared the breathable air in the capsule, which meant he was now inhaling air the others had previously exhaled. He wheezed, as something pressed against his chest, and he suddenly felt he could not get any air. Jiaying just managed to stretch across and place a hand on his forearm.
“A panic attack,” she said. “You are fine, Martin. Breathe.”
Martin nodded and obeyed. He was glad about the specific instructions. How much time has passed? Shouldn’t we be on the way to space already? He was glad he was not responsible for the launch procedure, for if everything depended on him, they would be lost. Amy handled things expertly. Martin watched her from the corner of his eye. It was difficult to tell that she had been crying just a moment ago.
Jiaying pressed her hand on his arm again, and now he heard it, too.
“Ground Control to Neumaier. Everything okay?”
Why shouldn’t it be okay? Are my biosensors going haywire? Is my heart beating too fast? But Jiaying’s hand once more calmed him down.
“They want to know whether everything is okay. You have to answer, or they will abort the launch,” she told Martin.
“Yes, Neumaier here, everything is okay,” he replied. What else can I say? That was obviously what Ground Control expected to hear. Oh man, these two years are going to be stressful. Deep below him he heard a muted growl, which was confirmation that the main engine of the first stage of Angara 9b was starting up. Even though the rocket was not moving yet, some invisible but heavy creature sat on his chest. The countdown reached zero. The deep growl became an enormous sound that shook Martin to the core, and now they were moving upward. Breathing became harder, yet somehow it felt easier to him.
There was no turning back now, even though aborting the mission was still a possibility. The noise of the launch turned into a roaring, booming sound, an indication they must be crossing the atmosphere. Martin tried to count along, but before he reached seven, he lost count. The pressure was still increasing. Once again he felt the urge to urinate, and this time he could not hold back—he just let go. Breathe, you have to breathe. Did I say that, or did I just think it?
It was like a constantly accelerating ride on a giant bomb. One spark in the wrong place and the rocket would burst into a huge fireball. There was a loud bang, then another. The boosters have separated. Martin imagined them floating away from the spacecraft, each then activating a small jet engine in order to land at a nearby military airfield. One of the technicians had proudly explained this special feature of the Baikal boosters. The first and second stages of the rocket were designed to attempt a soft landing on Earth instead of ending up as space junk. That way, Shostakovich would save a lot of money.
Martin felt another bump. Was this the second stage already? Or the first one? The blood flow through his brain seemed to be insufficient, and his thoughts went astray. He instead tried to concentrate on familiar things. How did one construct a rocket engine? Had he turned off the light in his apartment? Should he have asked someone to check on it now and then? No, wait. I took care of that. And he had—he had given up his apartment and placed his things in storage. Once he and Jiaying returned to Earth, they had agreed to buy a condo together... or rent an apartment... or maybe buy a condo after all. They had argued about this issue, but that had been several weeks ago.
He heard a sharp metallic pop from behind, and realized it must have been the second stage. The pressure on his chest decreased, and the invisible creature disappeared. Martin tried to put on a smile. Jiaying should not see him as being weak, or she would be worried. At the same time, he was glad she did worry about him, seeing him in his weakest moments and obviously still loving him.
January 13, 2049, (1566) Icarus
Icarus was born 4.5 billion years ago. Space dust agglomerated into granules, granules formed pebbles, and the pebbles became rocks. This process allowed Icarus to reach a diameter of 1,400 meters and a mass of about 3 billion tons. But then something happened that Icarus could not quite remember: Had Jupiter, the giant that ruled the solar system when Icarus was far from the fiery queen, thrown Icarus out of its orbit? Since then, Icarus had been wandering back and forth on a lonely path.
When, following this lonely path, Icarus approached the sun, it met Mars, Earth, Venus, and Mercury on its way. It heated up near the sun and cooled off again further out. Icarus saw life come and go on Mars, and then arise on Earth. There, it had been more successful than Icarus had expected from this planet, which four billion years ago had appeared t
o be so hostile to life. From Icarus’ perspective, it was only a short while ago that the first radar beams sent by the inhabitants of Earth hit its surface. These creatures were growing more curious as Icarus repeatedly passed by their planet. Since they still had not quite mastered this technology, one of their technicians wrote a poem Icarus might be proud of, assuming it was capable of emotion.
Anode to Icarus
Icarus Dicarus Dock
We worked around the clock.
For three straight days
We aimed our rays
And an echo showed on the plot
But as always, there’s a woe
The rain made a better show
As bleary our eyes
Stared at the skies
We hoped that the clouds would go.1
Since 2043, when Icarus had once more come within 9,000,000 kilometers of Earth, it had no longer been alone. A mining spacecraft sent by the inhabitants of Earth had arrived, and it stuck like a tick to its surface. These creatures called themselves ‘humans,’ and they had their own ‘Icarus’ story in which the asteroid was not even mentioned. The tick sucked on the asteroid. Slowly but surely the craft would hollow it out, swallow its valuable components in order to feed its descendants, and then dump the residue on its surface in the form of loose dust.
Icarus did not mind—it was an asteroid, after all. Therefore it also could not sense the unusual form of life entering ‘its’ spaceship. It was not organic life, but it was life—a consciousness that flowed along digital paths into the on-board computer and took over the ship.
The spaceship came alive after Marchenko had familiarized himself with all its details. Marchenko was now the ship, and the ship was Marchenko. He was glad everything had gone smoothly, and he thought longingly of Francesca who was just being launched from Earth on the Angara 9b rocket. Marchenko also thought about Icarus, but if the asteroid could read his thoughts, it would be sad. Ultimately, Marchenko was only thinking about how to get away from here as quickly as possible. A larger spaceship was waiting for him out there. He would have to reach it and take it over so he could pick up his friends, with whose help he would try to find... himself.
January 14, 2049, Semlya
Life had already taught Martin three lessons today. One, even people who have spent two years in space are not immunized against space sickness. Two, the trick of focusing on some faraway object to avoid nausea did not seem to work for him. While the others were vying for a spot near the porthole and saying ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ when they saw the wonderfully blue and fragile Earth, he kept his distance. And three, it was extremely difficult to catch vomit floating freely through the capsule. Since that unpleasant episode, he always had a bag with him.
Now and then Jiaying came by and asked how he was doing. Martin did not have to answer her, because his facial expression told the whole story. Was he this sensitive to the Russian design? Or was it because they had so little space? The Semlya capsule was supposedly designed to carry eight people, but how could eight people stand it if it was already too crowded for five?
On the other hand, they were using the capsule for a purpose for which it was not originally intended. It was being used as their taxi to a location far outside the lunar orbit, and you did not get that far in 24 hours. They would instead have to hold out for at least a week in these cramped circumstances. On the upside, the life support system was powerful enough to let them orbit Earth on Semlya almost indefinitely, so they would not suffocate or die of thirst. Nor would they succumb to hunger any time soon, as there was plenty of dried food on board.
The sanitary facilities, however, were rather primitive—a makeshift toilet screened only by a curtain.
Their fuel was also limited. At the current rate of acceleration, they would be able to fly into space for only another four days if they wanted to have a chance to return under their own power. If they did not start decelerating by the 18th of January, only ILSE would be able to save them. They did not know whether Marchenko would be able to gain control of the spaceship by that time.
At least he had already contacted them and reported that the ship attached to the asteroid Icarus was in good shape.
On Earth no one had noticed their excursion. Amy supposedly was taking care of her son full time, Martin allegedly needed to take care of his mother, and Shostakovich managed to get Jiaying released by her government to work on space projects. Francesca was her own boss anyway. The Russian billionaire sent them a few news programs, as well as recently released Hollywood movies, so they would not get bored. But Martin did not need any movies right now, and the others seemed well entertained by peering through the porthole.
He stood in front of a computer console, trying to understand the system. In case of emergency, it might be useful if he could intervene. Valentina seemed to have noticed his curiosity and joined him.
“Can I explain anything to you?” she asked.
“Yes. Why did you come along?” replied Martin.
She smiled. “That is not what I meant.”
“I know. But I still would be interested in knowing.”
Valentina frowned. She was either pondering his question or she was a good actress. It is strange, Martin thought. Why do I break my iron rule to think the best of strangers when it comes to her? What was it about her that made him so suspicious? Was it just her father?
“To be exact, probably because I wanted to escape my father,” Valentina finally professed.
“But he sent you here. This is his mission.”
“That is what he believes. But even if it was the case, I will reach the maximum distance from him while I am with all of you.”
Martin laughed and forgot about his nausea. “That might be true, but why do you want to get away? What is so hard to tolerate?”
“As a father, he is quite okay,” Valentina said. “Sometimes he is a bit too protective, particularly since the death of my mother.”
“I am sorry to hear that. I was wondering why there wasn’t a Mrs. Shostakovich. When did she die?”
“It was Shukina—not Shostakovich. Her name was Shukina, just like mine. She died ten years ago, when I was still an adolescent. It really hurt my father, and sometimes I pity him for what happened then.”
“And he never remarried?” asked Martin.
“No, he is married to his company. He always was. He rarely had any time for my mother. Business always came first, and she then found a substitute for him in alcohol and pills.”
“That’s so sad.”
“Yes. After her death, things did not get better, they actually got worse. He only lives for his research now. Sometimes I get the feeling he considers himself a great benefactor, but he helps no one. All his profits are invested in the company’s research. The company grows and grows, and it devours him.”
“I don’t know why, but I do not pity him,” Martin said.
“He does not deserve pity, since it is his own decision,” said Valentina, nodding. “But enough about me. Should I show you the system? Who knows—we may need you to be familiar with it sometime.”
“Sure,” he said.
They spent an hour looking at the software, then another hour. Martin’s nausea was gone. He found the program to actually be quite simple and was glad he could read the Cyrillic letters. It also helped that Valentina was a great teacher. He tried to imagine her in front of a class of students, but of course that career path was not open to her. Someday, she would become one of the richest, most powerful, and most desirable women in the world. Unless she had a brother, which he had not chosen to ask her.
Martin decided he wanted to know. “Do you have siblings?”
She shook her head. “I am an only child, unfortunately. My mother actually did not want any children. She always thought she had no maternal ability, but it was not true.”
Martin nodded. Then his attention was snagged by a particular software sequence. The section was responsible for the coupling procedure. “Can I
take a closer look at this?”
“Just a moment,” Valentina said. “I am switching to debug mode.”
A message appeared on the monitor that Martin managed to interpret as a warning, even without knowing Russian.
“The computer tells us we should not change this during flight,” Valentina explained.
“What if you open the source code with write protection activated?”
“No problem.”
Lines of code appeared on the screen. Martin immediately recognized that the code was written in the programming language Fortran.
“Very exotic,” he commented. For a long time, Fortran had been his favorite programming language. “Did your father study physics?”
“Yes, he did.”
Martin slowly shook his head. The command sequences were comprehensible, and regular comments in English helped him understand them. Everything looked good, but something still bothered him.
“What do you think; how old is this software?”
“No idea,” Valentina answered.
Martin calculated. Fortran had not been taught to physics majors for 30 or 40 years. Maybe in the Eastern Bloc it had stayed in use longer. In spite of this, nothing spoke against this code working perfectly. If Shostakovich had it maintained regularly, they should have no problems. Unless... the ship was confronted with circumstances unknown to its software. Like the coupling mechanism of ILSE. While that mechanism was based on international standards, the standards had been expanded about ten years ago at the request of the Chinese. Had the RB Group implemented the update? That was questionable, since it would have cost money without adding specific advantages. After all, private mining transport ships did not have to dock with a Chinese space station.
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