This is a fan translation of Road to Mars (Дорога к Марсу) by fifteen Russian science fiction writers.
This chapter was written by Anton Pervushin.
I claim no rights to the contents herein.
Chapter 1
Abort the Launch?
"There is no intelligent life on Mars. And there never was.
But even if there was, it's unlikely that Martian astronomers would've been able to make out the launch of the first human expedition towards their planet: there are no optical devices capable of detecting the small silvery star of a spaceship from millions of kilometers away.
But if we were to step outside the bounds of the physical picture of the world and imagine something incredible in the spirit of science fiction writers of the early 20th century—the presence of sentient Martians and the existence of optics capable of detecting our spaceships at interplanetary distances—then even that allowance wouldn't improve the situation. The observer from Mars would only see two tiny stars that stubbornly and seemingly aimlessly crawling away from a blue ball amid the vast black void. Then they would notice one of the stars suddenly change its trajectory sharply, as if changing its mind about embarking on such a long journey. While the second star would, after getting into a higher orbit, remain there for a long time. Why? For what purpose? What would the hypothetical Martian understand? Would they guess that this is only the beginning?.."
It was a normal work environment in the main room of Mission Control Moscow, also known as TsUP. No one was pacing between the rows, unnerving the flight controllers, no one was raising their voice, engaging in hysterics, or swearing. Specialists were exchanging laconic comments, periodically glancing at the large central screen that was displaying the trajectories of the spaceships. And yet the situation was far from normal. The manned craft Rus' 2M with the crew of the First Martian Expedition was supposed to go up from a low earth orbit to a higher one, where it was being expected by the interplanetary vessel Ares 1 that was ready to depart. In order to get through the Van Allen radiation belt quickly, they were using a standard booster module. But the module failed at the critical moment.
"So what's going on with the booster?"
The question asked by Irina Pryahina, head of the Space Council to the President of Russia, wasn't addressed to anyone in particular, but it was answered by Dr. Victor Bykov, PhD, who was in charge of the expedition's scientific program. He swept the people gathered in the meeting room—top brass of the Russian Space Forces, leaders of the European and Russian space agencies, deputy administrator of NASA, delegates from various countries—with a frown and informed them, "We're not sure, but we're looking into it. We've detected a fuel leak. Due to the threat to the lives of the cosmonauts, Commander Ivan Serebryakov has initiated an emergency undocking with the booster. But the warping of the truss, likely caused by the same thing as the leak, the undocking was unsuccessful. The Rus' remains on an unplanned orbit."
"And the second ship? Anikeev's crew?"
"It has entered geostationary orbit at the predetermined time. The ship's systems are being tested. No failures. The crew is awaiting the order to approach the Ares."
"Thank you, Doctor. You all heard it, ladies and gentlemen. I ask that only the official representatives of the organizers of the Martian expedition remain. We need to make a final decision regarding the launch of the backup crew. Everyone else, please go to the cafeteria or the conservatory. We'll be making an official announcement shortly…"
"If you decide to become a cosmonaut one day, then keep in mind that you may have just put a big X on your life, crumpling it and tossing it into a garbage can. Yes, you're going to learn many new things, but that knowledge is unlikely to help you as a civilian. Yes, they'll teach you to do things no one in the world can, but those skills are unlikely to help you survive in that world. Yes, you'll meet interesting people, but those people won't solve your problems when you hear the scariest thing a cosmonaut can hear: the dry order, 'You're grounded!' All your efforts, all your hard work, all the sacrifices, all your hopes and dreams can evaporate in a moment. And you won't be able to change anything. No tears, pleas, appeals are going to help here. Space will be forever closed to you…"
Andrei Kartashov saved the document and, pulling away from the text, spent some time looking at an old postcard that was secured over the display panel.
The postcard was showing a bizarre landscape: mysterious towers with sharp spires, two people in clumsy space suits, and a huge alien planet glowing crimson over them. That was how the artist Andrey Sokolov had illustrated Iosif Shklovsky's unverified theory that the Martian moons were enormous orbital stations created an ancient alien civilization.
Besides, Kartashov, the spaceship's landing module contained five more people. Their shock-absorbing seats were positioned in a daisy shape: the crew was reclining in them, their helmets almost touching. This probably looked very touching from above, but Andrei didn't really like this position: his friends were there, they could talk, exchange jokes, but they couldn't see into each other's face to see their expressions. Kartashov was also weighed down by the forced idleness — at this stage of the flight, his knowledge as an astrobiologist, life support specialist, and space cook wasn't needed, but his weary soul demanded action. The expedition's shrink had suggested they relax in such cases, switch to something neutral, or remember a pleasant experience from the past. But nothing but gloomy thoughts were visiting him.
Just to occupy himself, Andrey had started writing a blog. Especially since it was a part of his duties. Nothing special, right? Millions of people across the world had blogs. But even such a simple task was turning into something radically new… unexplored here and now.
Sighing, Kartashov returned to his tablet.
"If you still decide to become a cosmonaut, then remember: your body and spirit will be seriously tested on this path. Passing the medical screening and qualification selection is the easy part, followed by the real torment. Hyperbaric chamber, isolation chamber, vibration stand, centrifuge, hydropool, skydiving, piloting, survival training. You'll be sweating buckets, but your stern instructor will decide that it's not enough and make you do it all over again. You'll have to be the best of the best, and then make an effort and become even more perfect.
Let's say that you're young and strong enough to overcome all these trials and remain sane in the eyes of the psychiatrists. Let's say that you're receptive and smart enough to master the science of space. But that doesn't mean that you've got space in the bag. You still need at least a drop of luck.
Things we ignore in everyday life may work against you. An accidental word, an impulsive action, a bad mood, a black cat crossing your path — and you make a fatal mistake.
That's why cosmonauts are superstitious and value their 'talismans.' That's why they maintain traditions for decades, reproducing the rituals that laymen see as ridiculous: watching White Sun of the Desert, writing their name on the hotel room door, peeing on the back wheel of the bus before lift-off. If the one who did this before you had a successful flight, then do the same, and you'll be fine too."
"System testing!" Commander Anikeev announced loudly.
"DU parameters within norm," Jeubin replied immediately. "No excess fuel consumption."
"UKK normal," Bull reported. "Clean ride. Got lucky with the weather too."
"Knock on wood," the Commander suggested. "Just in case."
Their words were also part of the tradition. Any crewmember could track the state of the ship's primary systems on the display panels in front of them. The panels were called "lightboxes" but looked nothing like the bulky light signals created over half a century ago. Space really was a very conservative profession. And, at the same time, very cutting edge. An interesting paradox.
"Primary on the comms," Bull informed them.
"Hey, guys!" Ivan Serebryakov's voice rang out in their earphones. "How are things?"
"We're fine," Anikeev replied. "What about you?"
"They're promising that the Dragon is going to lift off in three hours. They'll get us down for sure. You'll be gone by then…"
"We haven't yet gotten the go-ahead to dock and launch."
"Oh you will."
Anikeev hesitated answering. Even without seeing his face, Kartashov could easily picture the emotions he was feeling.
"Worried?" the Commander asked carefully.
"Yeah," Serebryakov admitted. "Very much! Everyone is. Michael doesn't want to talk to anyone. Jacques is doodling in his notebook…"
"There will be other expeditions…"
"Don't be ridiculous, Slava!" Serebryakov's voice rang dangerously. "I know you're trying to console me! But what's the point?! You think I'm an idiot and don't realize that this flight might be the first and last one of the century?"
Kartashov tensed inwardly. He thought that Serebryakov was about to angrily speak the words that should never be spoken to departing cosmonauts. But the primary commander managed to overcome his resentment and started speaking quieter, "We were sure that fortune was on our side. And then this… Now it's all going to be yours. And you'll do it, Slava! I believe that you can! And maybe if it all works out for you, then, who knows, maybe we'll still fly… Safe space to you. And godspeed!"
Serebryakov cut the link.
The conversation bothered Kartashov a lot. He was now sweating and was horrified to imagine the sort of spikes his EKG was showing at the moment on the TsUP's medical screen. Andrey looked at the postcard to calm himself down and finally managed that.
Yes, fortune had turned out to be on their side. A week ago, Kartashov would've happily given his right arm to be on Serebryakov's crew. He knew it was impossible, but he'd still been hoping for a miracle. Maybe Jacques would get sick at the last moment, and then the big bosses wouldn't care about politics — the flight had to happen, and they'd never be able to find another backup in a day. It was naïve and not well-intentioned, but he hadn't wanted anything bad. After all, Jacques was a known ladies' man, why should he care about other worlds? He wasn't going to find any space girls out there, that was for sure!..
But everything turned out differently. Had he gone with Serebryakov, he'd be sitting in low orbit now and biting his nails in frustration. The primary commander was right, their voodoo had been stronger. It was a good thing Bull always brought his blue beret with him. It was a good thing that Anikeev never drank in a group with an even number of people. It was a good thing that the dark-skinned giant Givens always hung a dreamcatcher over his bed and never liked when people cursed in front of him. It was a good thing he himself brought his own talisman—the postcard with Phobos on it, given to him by Yana—to training…
Andrey had always thought of himself as a loser. It was ridiculous to think about that now! First time, he'd failed the medical screening. Then he managed to get into the Squad but was kicked out after general space training as "morally unstable." Even attempt number 3 hadn't been promising anything serious… Or maybe he'd just gotten too many "minuses." And they came together and formed a "plus."
Then again, the day was still young. For some reason, TsUP was delaying greenlighting the docking procedure. And the countdown hadn't yet been started, which meant they could potentially miss their window. Had something else happened?..
"I am completely against launching the backup crew!" Pryahina stated. "And you know why. Yes, I approved Anikeev's crew, even though each member of that crew had had problems in the past. But I only did that for the sake of our cooperation. I thought you understood that, Mr. Grant. And you, Monsieur Choisy."
The deputy administrator of NASA and the director general of the European Space Agency exchanged glances and listened to the English translation.
"Sending them now would be knowing dooming the expedition! Is that our goal? Yes, we'll have to explain the waste of taxpayer money. I'm certain that the faulty booster will clear us all. It's better to admit that we need additional time to prepare the launch than to be responsible for a failed expedition."
"An aborted expedition has already failed," Bykov noted quietly.
"You forget your place, Doctor! Need I remind you of subordination? Or maybe you want to go back to teaching. I can help with that…"
"May I, Madam Pryahina?" Grant said with a heavy accent.
"I'm listening."
"I don't understand how the past of these people can prevent them from completing their mission. If they're in orbit now, then we've already believed in them. One other thing, I must remind you that the next launch window is in four years. By that point, we will not have the resources we do now. The service life of the Ares craft will be at an end. We'll have to replace the orbital tugs too. Are you ready to accept such a responsibility to humankind? Are you prepared to pause space expansion by years or even decades?"
"Yes, I am," Pryahina answered dispassionately. "Since these international agreements have given me the authority to make decisions in extraordinary circumstances, I'm prepared to make use of it. Even if all of you disagree."
Silence fell over the meeting room. At that moment, an old-fashioned government telephone in the corner rang out loudly and demandingly."