Yekaterina passed the instrument to him over the fence, then she followed. “There!” she whispered.
The horizon was slowly turning gray. The launch scaffolding showed up against it as a black silhouette, the rocket looking like it needed a backrest. They’d have to hurry. They ran around a couple of small barracks. Yekaterina had told him that there were no guards patrolling in here at night. At worst, they’d encounter a couple of tired engineers doing overtime. But so long after midnight the risk was low.
The launch tower was massive. By comparison, the Molniya-M was a small rocket. It loomed in front of them like a modern church, erected to shine brightly once it was finished. This church would not wait for God to descend and mount the pulpit. It would raise itself at dawn. Socialism had driven God out of the sky with Sputnik.
An alarm sounded and a flashing light cast its red beam across the area. Had they been discovered? They would freeze in a Siberian gulag. The colonel general wouldn’t be able to do anything to help them. And he wouldn’t want to, because he wouldn’t dare endanger his career. Sasha just stood frozen to the spot. There was no point in trying to hide.
But Yekaterina pulled him behind a barracks. Engine noises told them a truck was approaching. The shadows next to the walls were impenetrable. The vehicle drove past them and stopped within their line of sight about 50 meters away from the rocket, but in a way that made it impossible for them to get past it without being seen. At least it didn’t seem to be there because of them. Katya pushed him along the outer wall of the barracks in its shadow. She went ahead of him and peered around the corner.
“There’s a gate over there,” she whispered. “If we manage to get through it, we can get out of the restricted area.”
It was about 80 meters, of which 30 were well lit. In place of the red light, someone had now turned on several white lamps. What was going on here?
“Shall I take the Relikt?” asked Yekaterina.
He shook his head. That wouldn’t help.
“Good. On three. Raz, dva, tri.”
She ran, he followed, and they reached the gate together and out of breath. No one seemed to have noticed them. They continued more slowly. Out here, they’d only arouse suspicion if they ran.
“Stop!” said a man’s voice from the shadows, and a soldier stepped forward. He was fumbling with the zipper of his pants. He had the end of a cigarette in his mouth. A machine gun hung loosely from his shoulder. He was a corporal, so not a total rookie. He looked well over 30. They wouldn’t be able to fool him.
“Are you part of the film crew?” he asked.
“Yes. We’re supposed to clean this thing here,” said Katya. “It’s all dusty.” Her voice betrayed not a hint of stress.
The corporal stepped closer and eyed the instrument. “What is it?”
“No idea. A product of socialist space exploration, no doubt.”
“Looks like it,” said the corporal. “Maybe from Gagarin’s time.”
Of course, the 50th birthday. On April 16, the folk hero would have turned 50. Apparently, the people on the truck were making a documentary.
“Could be the radio module off a Vostok capsule,” said Sasha.
“No, that’s not an antenna.” The corporal pointed at their Dicke radiometer. “Look, greenhorn, that must be a radiometer.”
“Never heard of it,” said Sasha.
“You should take more of an interest in space exploration,” said the corporal. “But I suppose tomorrow you’ll be back to filming something about the coal mining in Ekibastuz and Kizel.”
“No, we need the whole week for this doco,” said Yekaterina. “Sorry, we have to keep moving.”
“The wash house is over there,” said the corporal. “And please ask the producer if that really is a Dicke radiometer. I think I know one when I see it, but it’s been a while.”
The man was right, but Sasha couldn’t tell him that right now. Maybe they should swap him for Verkhodanov. The soldier was probably more clued in.
Yekaterina pulled him in the direction in which the corporal had pointed. It was the wrong way, but as long as he was watching them they had no other choice. They went into the brick building. It stank of urine. At the other end was another exit.
Sasha turned around. He couldn’t see the corporal anymore. The instrument would have to stay on Earth, but at least they’d lived to fight another day.
“Put that thing down,” said Yekaterina.
He bent down and put the instrument carefully on the ground. Then he stood up straight. Katya stepped in front of him and they fell into each other’s arms.
Her hair smelled good. Her lips tickled his ear. Their mouths found each other.
March 25, 1984, Tyuratam
They’d brought the rebuilt Relikt instrument back to Lab T4, and there were now four of them working on it. Every switch could be optimized, and at some point the measuring device would fly into space. Verkhodanov was being surprisingly cooperative. Maybe he was satisfied with the fact that his version of the detector was now going to be launched. His name would be at the forefront of the scientific work. Vanity really was a powerful motivator. Why had he never had his own share of that?
But Verkhodanov was also pretty stupid, like most vain people probably were. If the mission was successful, everything would remain classified. There wouldn’t be any paper with Verkhodanov’s name on it. But if they were right and the data was too imprecise, then Verkhodanov would shoulder the blame. The colonel general certainly wouldn’t take responsibility.
And there he was. Komikov placed a hand on his shoulder. “Did you do it?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Comrade Colonel General,” said Sasha.
“Yes, we decided to work together on improving the Relikt instrument,” said Yekaterina.
“That doesn’t make much sense,” said Komikov, “given that the rocket will be launched tomorrow. But I don’t have anything against it. At the moment all we can do is wait anyway.”
“I’m very optimistic,” said Verkhodanov. “In a few weeks we’ll have cracked the mystery.”
“I hope so. I’ve heard that the Americans intend to take a closer look at the cosmic background radiation, too. Our intelligence service says they’re planning a corresponding payload for their space shuttle.”
“We’ll be faster,” said Verkhodanov.
“I really hope so. These celebrations for Gagarin’s birthday are taking up more time than I’d like. The film people are occupying the entire area around the launch platform. I hope they’ll be gone by the time the Molniya launches tomorrow.”
They left Lab T4 together. Once they were on the street, Yekaterina reached for his hand, but he pulled away.
“About yesterday...” he began.
“That was really nice,” said Katya.
He couldn’t do anything but smile broadly. It was really nice. “Yeah, it was.”
“So why are you avoiding me?”
“I... I was totally pumped with adrenalin. That wasn’t me, yesterday.”
“No? It wasn’t anyone else.” Her face hardened. “I’m going too fast, right? I’m sorry, I can’t help it.”
“No, it’s not about you, Katyusha.”
“What’s up with you, then? Are you married? Valya would have told me. Do you have an infectious disease? Are you homosexual?”
“No, none of those.”
“Then tell me what’s wrong.”
“I can’t. It’s not up to me.”
“So it is my fault?”
“No, it really isn’t. It’s just... complicated.”
Man, you’re an idiot. Why don’t you just tell her it’s Komikov’s fault? But he couldn’t, as it would permanently ruin her happy childhood. She’d be angry with the messenger. He had to keep it to himself. Or better, he had to convince Komikov to confess it to her himself. But wasn’t that egotistical? It wouldn’t change anything. They still couldn’t be together. But Katya’s memories would be ruined
. He had to prevent that, for her sake.
“Fine,” she said, “then don’t tell me. I’ll find out soon enough. But you’d better not be keeping something important from me!”
She turned away and began walking toward the launch platform.
March 26, 1984, Tyuratam
They were on their way to the control room to watch the launch of the Molniya rocket and its Relikt instrument. Komikov had managed to get access permits for them and Verkhodanov. It was a long way. Now, in the early morning, the area looked quite different to Sasha and Yekaterina compared to the night before last. Black pipes ran along both sides of the asphalt road. They were supposed to irrigate the plant beds at the roadside. Weeds were growing there now, but at least the green strips brightened up the otherwise barren landscape. They could see leaks every few meters. The pipes were probably quick to freeze, and it was obvious what happened after that.
“What are those cranes on the horizon for?” asked Sasha.
“Valentina says they’re building a tower and hangars for our own space shuttles,” Yekaterina replied. “The tower is supposed to be a hundred and seventy meters high! Can you imagine that?”
“The Buran project? I’ve heard of that. It’s about time. The Americans have already been flying their space shuttle for three years.”
Yekaterina stopped, held up her hand to shield her eyes from the bright sun, and pointed into the distance.
“Look, a desert fox,” she said.
And sure enough, a vulpine-looking animal was wandering through the landscape. It looked gray at this distance.
A couple of dogs barked. “Who keeps dogs here?” Sasha asked.
“The security teams on the outer perimeter.”
He’d been here in Kazakhstan for 10 days now, and still hadn’t seen anything of the countryside. There were supposed to be camels outside, Valya had said. Lake Qambash, where you could supposedly swim in the summer, was only 150 kilometers away.
“What do you say we take a drive on Sunday?” he asked.
“Sunday was yesterday.”
“Oh, really? Then was yesterday a day off?”
“Yes, today’s Monday. So the next Sunday is in six days.”
“Pity.”
“We don’t have much to do at the moment anyway. If I ask Komikov he’ll probably give us the day off tomorrow.”
Yekaterina smiled and linked arms with him. It was good. No one could stop them from being friends.
The soldier posted at the entrance to the control center looked familiar. The stripes on his shoulders revealed his rank—corporal. Yekaterina guilelessly handed him the machine-typed, stamped pieces of paper that permitted them entry. She didn’t seem to have noticed his face. But Sasha remembered him and felt an urgent need go to the bathroom.
“Ah, the film crew,” whispered the corporal.
Yekaterina froze. She must have noticed now, too. Sasha squeezed her hand. The man didn’t have anything on them. In fact, if he reported them, he’d have to answer some uncomfortable questions. Shouldn’t he have checked their papers that night?
“Yes, we’re documenting the launch,” said Sasha.
“The others have already gone,” said the corporal. “I saw them drive off.”
“Yeah, we’re supposed to gather a few more impressions. Then we’ll be leaving, too.”
“Without a camera?”
“For the commentary.”
“Of course.” The corporal studied their papers intently, as though he was trying to make amends for the last time. Then he gave the papers back to Sasha. “So, you’re researchers. And I had to tell you what a Dicke radiometer was. Well, keep researching. If you need a talented cyberneticist, I wouldn’t mind being transferred.”
“How did you end up here, then?”
“I fell in with the wrong people.”
“Crooks? Anti-social elements?”
“With the wife of a high functionary. I was lucky. The woman threatened her husband with a messy divorce if he was too hard on me. So I didn’t have to go to Siberia.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I had wondered. You look older than most of the other defense personnel. What’s your name? Maybe we do need a cyberneticist. With the labor shortages, it’s not easy to find good people.”
He shouldn’t get the man’s hopes up too much—after all, he had no say in the matter. Komikov decided everything.
“Naselsky, Pyotr.”
“All right, Petya. Enjoy the rest of your shift.”
So, this was the famous Zarya-1 that had served Gagarin—call sign Cedar—as mission-control center back then? The control room was not much bigger than a classroom, only with a higher ceiling. The walls were painted a brownish orange. The ceiling was covered in plastic tiles. Pale yellow lights distributed across it bathed the room in a surprisingly cozy glow.
Instead of a blackboard there were two giant monitors at the front, made up of groups of five by three television monitors, which must have produced a lot of heat. And the ‘students’ each had a black-and-white monitor and a green telephone in front of them, as well as various electronic devices with numerous keys, switches, and buttons. Some of them had microphones, some were wearing bulky black headphones. Most of those present were smoking or had a smoldering butt in an ashtray. It was a little like a sunrise on a spring day promising good weather.
The majority of the roughly 20 employees here were men. As if on command, about half of them turned around when Yekaterina entered the room, even though they hadn’t been announced by the flight controller nor had the door made a sound. At 1.82 meters, she was an impressive vision. Sasha registered a strange feeling, which he interpreted as pride.
Komikov sat up front to the right. He stood up and waved. Then he took a few steps toward them. “I have an idea,” he said.
“About how we can still swap out the Relikt instrument?” asked Yekaterina quietly.
“Ha, ha, nice try. No, that’s impossible. But we could observe the launch from up close. Here you can only see it through cameras and screens. There’s nothing more impressive than feeling the ground shake when the thrusters fire.”
“Like Nedelin back in the day?” asked Yekaterina.
Nedelin? Who was that?
“Careful, that’s classified, Katya,” whispered Komikov. “But it’s true, Nedelin and his officers didn’t fare well. But then, who sits eight meters away from a rocket when it’s still being fueled! Who even told you about that?”
“I can’t remember.”
“Good. Anyway, no, we won’t be experiencing the launch within range of the thrusters. But there’s a bunker that’s only a hundred and fifty meters away. It’s safe, but you can still see everything with your own eyes.”
“Safe?” asked Sasha.
“The cameras that are sending everything into this control room are inside it. They’re expensive and were imported from the West, bypassing the technology restrictions. No one would risk losing them.”
“That’s reassuring.”
But Komikov was right. Humans were easy to replace. What the KGB had acquired from the West, not so much.
“Then let’s go,” said Yekaterina.
The bunker was hardly recognizable as such from outside. The roof was made of a special, 50-centimeters-thick concrete slab, which could have easily been mistaken for the foundation of a future house. It didn’t appear to have any windows. Hadn’t Komikov promised them they’d be able to watch the launch with their own eyes?
The colonel general led them to a set of narrow, well-worn steps. At the bottom and to the right was a narrow metal door, in the middle of which was a manually operated wheel. Sasha looked up. They were about three meters below the surface. Komikov turned the wheel to the left. Then he opened the door. Sasha was the first to enter the room.
A young soldier sprang to his feet. He looked surprised and saluted them, even though Sasha wasn’t wearing a uniform.
“At ease, comrade,” said Komikov.
“Goo
d morning, Comrade Colonel General!” The soldier smiled, ignoring the two civilians. Then he walked to a corner of the room and returned with a folding chair, which he set up.
“Two more, Comrade Orlanov,” said Komikov, and the soldier fetched two more chairs.
Komikov picked up one of the chairs and placed it near one of the longer walls, next to two cameras that stood on man-high tripods and were directed at a glass pane. Beyond the pane they could see the rocket, the bottom of which was wreathed in white vapor.
But that couldn’t be. They were three meters underground, and yet he could see the rocket through the window? “How does that work?” Sasha asked.
Komikov went to a corner of the room and put his hand on a steel lever. “Like this,” he said. The colonel general pushed the lever down, and the rocket moved upward. He pulled it back up and the rocket returned to its original position.
“A mirror system,” said Komikov. “Like in a submarine. Only we can’t turn the mirror to the left or right, only up and down. That way we can continue to follow the rocket even after it’s launched without putting ourselves in danger.”
“And the glass? Couldn’t the shock wave of an explosion destroy it?”
“It’s armored glass, Sasha, from the same factory that produces the T-80 battle tank.”
“That sounds good.”
“Now, make yourselves comfortable. The show’s about to start,” said Komikov.
“Fifteen minutes remaining,” announced a tinny voice from a speaker in the corner. It startled Sasha. He’d almost fallen asleep despite the uncomfortable chair. The coarse wire mesh cut into his back and thighs.
Komikov pulled a bottle out of his open uniform jacket. He’d also taken off his belt. “A little something to warm you up?”
Only then did Sasha notice how cold it was. The bunker had no heating—and the four times 120 watts that their bodies gave off when seated were obviously not enough.
The Death of the Universe: Rebirth: Hard Science Fiction (Big Rip Book 3) Page 7