“And that is?”
“I’d lock the door of the bunker from outside, so you couldn’t put yourselves in danger. I heard the shock wave broke Orlanov’s bones.”
“He’ll recover. Now he gets to spend the last few months of his service without the usual stress,” said Sasha. “I would have liked something like that during my time in the Army.”
“I thought so,” said Komikov. “That’s why I had you sent to support services.”
“Thank you. I always thought that was a coincidence.”
“But now, enough about the past. I don’t have much time. Every twenty minutes I have to be turned over like a pig on a spit.”
“I was hoping you could—” Sasha began.
“I’ve been thinking about the project,” his father interrupted. “We can’t allow the American’s to crack the puzzle before we do.”
“Then all we can do is hope,” said Sasha.
“That’s not my style,” said the colonel general.
“But it’ll be at least three months before the next Molniya is ready to launch.”
“I’m not talking about repeating the attempt.”
“But we don’t have a chance from the surface,” said Yekaterina. “Trials are being carried out in the Australian desert, but that could take years.”
“Oh, we’re going to send a measuring instrument into orbit, especially since you built another one. It’s finished and ready for launch, isn’t it?”
Sasha nodded. Where was this going?
“But it has no means of transport,” said Yekaterina.
“And no base to provide it with energy,” said Sasha.
“The means of transport will be standing on Launch Site 32 in a few days,” said Komikov.
“Soyuz T-11? The one that’s supposed to fly with the Indian on board up to Salyut 7?” asked Yekaterina.
“Exactly. As well as the Indian, Comrade Savitskaya is also supposed to be on board.”
“Then are we going to give the crew our Relikt instrument?” asked Katya.
“Do you think they’d be able to install it, use it, and evaluate it? The space station isn’t set up for that.”
“I don’t know, Comrade Colonel General. The instrument must be set up on the outside. It has to be connected to the onboard electronics, then someone needs to check that it’s delivering the correct readings—”
“And all that in such a way that the West doesn’t notice, of course,” finished Komikov. “We can’t trust the Indians like we can our comrades from the COMECON countries.”
“It’ll be risky,” said Yekaterina.
“Good,” said Komikov.
Good? Wasn’t that bad? Sasha thought.
“‘Good?’” asked Yekaterina.
“Yes, good. My decision was right. You’ll take her place, Katya. No one in the West has heard of Savitskaya. I’ve already discussed it with my superiors.”
Yekaterina looked at them all with wide eyes.
“I’ll do what? You’ve done what?”
“On April 3, you’ll fly to our space station on board Soyuz T-11. There, you’ll take as many space walks as necessary to attach the Relikt to the outside. We’ll sell it to the world as necessary repairs to Salyut 7.”
That was smart. The whole world had known since October the previous year that there was a hole in one of the Salyut 7 tanks. The station had been losing fuel ever since. Using a fake repair as a pretext would certainly be risky. When Salyut 7 ran out of fuel it wouldn’t be able to stay in orbit. It would fall. Oh well, it wasn’t his problem. If Yekaterina played her part, they’d still get their data. Sasha was already mentally rubbing his hands in anticipation.
“And I don’t even get asked?” Yekaterina complained.
“It will be a once-in-a-lifetime adventure,” said Komikov. “I can’t imagine what you’d have against it. Sure, you’ll never enjoy fame as a cosmonaut, because officially it will be Savitskaya on board. But believe me, the fame is overrated. You’ll never have to make appearances at school celebrations or party conventions.”
“I don’t care about the fame. But I’m not trained for this.”
“They buckle you into the rocket and shoot you up into the sky. You’ll just be a passenger. Malyshev is your commander and he’s got experience. You’ll just have to practice the space walks, and you’ve still got three days for that.”
“Three damn days and I’m supposed to learn what cosmonauts spend years training to do?”
“At least try. If it doesn’t work, we’ll have to abandon the idea. Then Savitskaya can still go. But I think you can do it. And I promise there won’t be any repercussions for you if you decide you’re not up to it.”
“I’d be mostly annoyed at myself.”
“That’s the Katya I know.”
There was a knock on the door.
“And now get out of here. I’m going to be repositioned,” said Komikov. “I’d like to spare you the sight.”
It was quiet in the car on the way back. Yekaterina had a bundle of papers on her lap that she’d collected from another building. She was flipping through them without much enthusiasm. Valentina kept looking like she was going to say something, but then stopped herself.
“Oh, just say it,” Yekaterina prompted her.
“This is great! I know a real cosmonaut! It’s going to be great!”
Valentina was almost bursting with enthusiasm. Sasha had never seen her like that, but then he’d only known her for two weeks. The time he’d spent in Tyuratam felt like a lot longer than that.
“Let’s wait and see,” said Yekaterina. “I feel a bit blind-sided. And what’ll Svetlana Savitskaya have to say about it? I can’t even imagine how they’re going to pull this off. Svetlana would have been the second woman in space, and now she’s supposed to stand down on my account?”
“I think they’ll sugar-coat the decision for her. I’ve heard they’re preparing a spaceflight with an entirely female crew, where she’ll be the commander,” said Sasha.
“Oh, you two, this is so exciting,” said Valentina. “I hope you don’t have to live somewhere else!”
“That’s out of the question,” said Yekaterina. “I’ll tell them, if I can’t live with Dezhurnaya Valentina Kondratyeva, then I won’t set foot in the Soyuz capsule. That will make them so curious that in the future they’ll billet all female cosmonauts with you.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that. Some of them are supposed to be quite full of themselves. Not everyone can take this hero’s fuss without it going to their head.”
“Who knows, maybe I’ll become totally full of myself, too.”
“That’s unlikely,” said Sasha, “because as far as the world and the fatherland is concerned, it’ll be Savitskaya who’s up there. Comrade Andreyeva, on the other hand, will return from the skies that she never visited with valuable data and disappear into some lab in Siberia, never to be heard of again.”
“Hmm, that sounds somehow poetic and at the same time depressing,” said Yekaterina. “I like it. You’ve got a real understanding of the Russian spirit.”
“Yes, really Sasha, you should write down the things you say,” Valentina agreed.
“I’m a mathematician, not a writer.”
“Wasn’t Dostoyevsky a mathematician, too?” asked Yekaterina.
“No, he was a military engineer,” replied Sasha.
“Near enough,” said Valentina.
“The difference between an engineer and a mathematician is at least as vast as the difference between a construction worker and an architect.”
“Oho, Sasha, so you’re the architect? Wait till I tell that to the engineers here.”
“Sorry, Valya, I didn’t mean to be disparaging. I just meant that I don’t build anything with my own hands. I just think things up, and others construct theories out of them. Maybe a tool analogy is better. Mathematicians give engineers tools that help them do their jobs better.”
The car stopped in front of t
he dezhurnaya’s bungalow. “We’re here,” said the sergeant.
“Will you come in?” asked Valya. “I’ve got ham, bread, and a good vodka.”
“I won’t say no,” said the sergeant.
“I’m glad, Volodya,” said the dezhurnaya.
Sasha looked at Yekaterina, but she didn’t notice.
“Don’t be offended,” she said, “but I’m dog tired and have to start my training tomorrow. I’d prefer to have an early night. Also, I have to study these papers.” She held up the pile.
Pity, he would have liked to talk to her. It had been another crazy day. If someone had told him four weeks ago that he’d fall in love with his sister, who was going to launch into space under a false name and conduct an experiment there, he would have laughed out loud and, from his little desk in front of Doroshkevich’s door, would have pointed back at his boss who was merely aspiring to be a member of the Academy. That was how fast things could change.
“Good night, comrade,” said the driver. Dusk was beginning to fall.
“Until whenever,” said Yekaterina.
And it was then that Sasha realized what this new plan meant for him. He wouldn’t see Yekaterina for quite a while. How long? How could he know? They would be training her every spare minute right up to the launch. Then came the spaceflight, which was supposed to take eight days. After that was rehabilitation. So, at least two weeks altogether—as long as he’d known her up to this point. That suddenly seemed inhumane and unbearable.
“Good luck,” he called after her, but she seemed not to have heard because she didn’t turn around.
March 30, 1984, Star City
“Come in,” the dezhurnaya said.
She was wearing what appeared to be a dressing gown, which might once have been green, and she smelled of alcohol. It must have been another long night. But she didn’t grumble, even though he’d showed up at her door at five thirty in the morning. She went into the kitchen and lit the stove. Sasha stood close to it because the room had become bitterly cold overnight. He kept his coat on.
Naturally, he was hoping to see Yekaterina one more time. Maybe she would come here for her kasha for old times’ sake.
“They already picked her up at three o’clock,” said Valentina. “Just imagine, they arrived with two UAZs. It must be really important.”
It was certainly unusual to have sent two all-terrain vehicles for Yekaterina. But they’d never know why. Katya was now on the other side of the border, where he couldn’t go without a special pass.
“Do you want tea?”
“Yes please.”
Valentina plugged the samovar into the outlet. The water didn’t take long to heat. Valentina poured it over the tea and they waited for it to brew. Then she added milk and sugar and handed him the cup. The handle was very hot. Sasha held it tighter, savoring the pain. Then at least there was a reason for the tears in the corners of his eyes.
“Ah, boy, it won’t be long.”
Valentina came to stand next to him and put her hand on his shoulder. The gesture comforted him, even though she didn’t understand. He knew something the dezhurnaya didn’t know. If only his father would spit it out! But right now really wasn’t the time—Yekaterina had to concentrate on her training.
He gradually warmed up. He took off his scarf and coat and draped them over the back of his chair. Maybe he should go back to his bungalow and sleep for a couple of more hours. He hadn’t slept a wink all night.
A breeze blew through the kitchen. Sasha turned to see where it was coming from.
Volodya was standing in the doorway in his underclothes. “Good morning. Do you have tea for me, too?”
“Are you already on duty?” asked Valentina.
“Yes, I have the early shift today.”
“Pity.”
The sergeant laughed. He was quite charming. Then they heard the crunch of tires outside. Someone honked a horn. Car doors slammed shut and sounded a loud knock on the door even as they heard it opening. Apparently the visitor wasn’t prepared to wait for someone to open it.
Volodya stepped aside, looking astonished. “Comrade Andreyeva?” he asked.
It was Katya. She looked disheveled and a little tired. “Sasha, we need you. Now.”
“What’s wrong? Are there problems with the measuring instrument?”
“You have to take over my mission.”
“Whaaaat?”
“Savitskaya’s spacesuit won’t fit me. I’m too tall. It might fit you.”
“Can’t you just wear another one?”
“There’s no room for it in the Soyuz capsule. The suit’s already waiting at the space station.”
“But I’m obviously not a woman.”
“I had noticed that. They’ll simply postpone Savitskaya’s expedition until July. Strekalov will fly in her place, ostensibly. They’ve already spoken to him. He’s quite pleased, because he still feels bad about the explosion last year.”
He’d heard about that. Strekalov and Titov had been able to jettison themselves from the exploding Soyuz at the last moment using their capsule’s rescue system. Launch Site 1 was still out of commission.
“But no one said anything to me about it,” he said. There was no way he’d...
“I’m telling you—right now. That’s why I’m here. Sasha, you have to take over from me, for my sake, okay? Otherwise we’ll never find out what’s encrypted in the background radiation.”
“I don’t think...”
Yekaterina went to him. He could smell her, her hair, the simple shampoo he knew so well.
“You can’t refuse,” she said. “Because if you don’t fly, our work here is finished. You go back to Moscow, I go back to Leningrad, and that’ll be the end of it.”
Sasha sat upright, pulling the belt tight and placing his feet flat. The machine’s spinning propellers created vibrations that ran up his spine through the unpadded seat and shook his whole being. Yekaterina hadn’t told him his training was going to take place 2,500 kilometers away. It would have been nice if she’d been sitting next to him.
But that seat was empty. He was the only passenger in the military machine that was currently rumbling along a runway in the Kazakh steppe. His mission was supposed to remain secret, so the fewer people who knew about it the better. What had they told the two pilots? Did they think he was a high functionary or a valuable secret service employee?
The plane lifted off. His stomach complained briefly, then settled again. It wasn’t his first flight. Back in his Army days he’d sat in the belly of an Antonov a few times. His unit had been stationed near the Chinese border—far away from where he’d grown up near Lake Baikal—and the only way to get there in winter was by plane.
Only two and a half days to go. He had no luggage. He’d been told they were going to provide him with everything he needed. He’d spend most of his time in water, Yekaterina had said, passing on what they’d told her. He had nothing against water. He’d learned to swim when he was only four years old. But he didn’t like cold water. In the hot, dry summers the lake had often heated up to 27 degrees Celsius or more, and sometimes there had been dead fish floating on the surface.
Sasha leaned forward to look out of one of the military transport’s few portholes. They were just breaking through a layer of cloud and the sun was rising. He decided to view that as a good omen.
A uniformed driver took him to the Star City in a black Volga. The man behind the wheel didn’t say a word. He didn’t even greet Sasha. He’d probably been informed that he was carrying a top-secret passenger. They were waved through at the entrance. The vehicle must have been known to everyone posted there. It either belonged to the top KGB agent or the commander of the training center.
The car stopped in front of a three-story brick building that looked very new. Sasha reached for the handle to open the door.
“One moment,” the driver interrupted him.
So, the man could speak after all. He had a Baltic accent, probably
from Estonia or Latvia. The door to the building opened and a man in a lavish-looking coat came out.
“Now!” commanded the driver.
Sasha opened the door and climbed out. The air was more humid than in Tyuratam, but about the same temperature. The man in the coat beckoned him. Sasha started walking. The driver cursed behind him, probably because he’d left the car door open.
They met halfway. The man in the coat stopped and studied him in silence with an impassive expression. What was that about? Why didn’t he say something?
Then he held out his hand. “Beregovoy,” he said by way of introduction. “Good afternoon, comrade.”
The man was a hero. Sasha immediately felt nervous in his presence, and his handshake was weaker than intended. Beregovoy had been shot down three times as a pilot in the Second World War, and in the late ‘60s he’d flown into space as a cosmonaut. What mission was that? Sasha couldn’t remember. Anyway, it was at a time when every launch still presented a considerable risk.
“Shan—”
“No, don’t, I’ve been instructed to let you fly completely under the radar. No one here will ever hear your name.”
He was okay with that.
“It’s all quite inconvenient though, because you’re throwing us off schedule. I very much hope you’ll fulfil the expectations placed on you. The sooner you’re gone, the better it’ll be for all of us.”
That was a great prospect. He was keeping everyone here from their work. They were sure to be thrilled about that.
“I’m sorry,” said Sasha.
“You shouldn’t be. I’m quite aware it wasn’t your idea—one that I find completely insane, by the way. Becoming a cosmonaut in three days! That’s an insult to all those who’ve been training here for years.”
So, Komikov had made him the most unpopular visitor imaginable at the Star City. Sasha rubbed his hands. He should have brought gloves.
“But don’t take it to heart, comrade. I’ll personally make sure the order from the Ministry is carried out.”
“I really don’t want to take up any more of your time than necessary,” said Sasha.
The Death of the Universe: Rebirth: Hard Science Fiction (Big Rip Book 3) Page 9