This is a fan translation of Road to Mars (Дорога к Марсу) by fifteen Russian science fiction writers.
This chapter was written by Igor Minakov.
I claim no rights to the contents herein.
Chapter 20
Riverworld
"Where did the information come from?" Anikeev asked.
"From our ESA colleagues," Givens replied. "Jean-Pierre, can you confirm?"
"Confirmed," Jeubin replied. "The satellites over the ecliptic allow to not only maintain comms with the Chinese crew but also to track their ship's parameters. Speed and relative distance."
"Take a look!" Givens gestured at the console. "The satellites have ceased relaying the parameters of the Millennium Boat."
"Both of them?" Bull inquired. "How are the satellites themselves?"
"That's the thing," Givens confirmed. "First I thought that our Chinese comrades are playing the silent game again. Then I decided that something was wrong with the satellites, but, as you can see, they're still sending their own telemetry…"
Anikeev relocated to the cockpit to personally confirm that his colleagues weren't joking. No jokes. The "comrades" from China could hide from their rivals all they wanted since the Ares couldn't actually ese them, but not from the satellites "suspended" over the ecliptic. And if those two were to be believed, then the Millennium Boat was gone, as if it had never existed.
Anikeev turned to the crew. Everyone eyes held only one question. And the Commander knew which one. After Jeubin's story about playing with the ghost, the sudden and unexplained disappearance of the leading ship couldn't fail to produce a depressive impression. Anikeev felt himself like a puppet in the hands of unknown but undoubtedly powerful forces. It was not a pleasant feeling.
"What do you think happened to the Boat?" the Commander asked. "I'll take any possibility, no matter how outlandish."
Pushing the elastic reddish blades apart with its sharp bow, the boat was slowly moving through the channel. The current in this branch of the river was very weak, so he worked up a sweat while rowing with the only paddle. Luckily, he couldn't get lost. All he had to do was look back to see the enormous volcanic cone over the lush spikes of the "reeds." He had to keep moving away from it.
The volcano was belching smoke like a chimney. Well, more like a hundred chimneys. New outbreaks were happening almost daily. The cloud of smoke, volcanic sulfur, and ash was spreading across the sky like a messy blot, turning day into twilight and night into a hot cellar that was only illuminated by the fiery piercings of lava. The soil for many square kilometers around was being warmed by the volcanic heat, while the geysers bursting here and there served to moisten it.
Actually, "moisten" was the wrong word. The volcano had given birth to a river. Actually, a wide river system, an entire land of rivers made up of multiple shallow channels. The wide channels flowed to a great northern plain, combining into small lakes — the embryos of a future ocean. Too bad the land of rivers was nearly uninhabited. If one ignored the crimson growths of "reeds" and the tiny creatures—maybe crustaceans or mollusks—that were scurrying under water between the blades.
And… people.
He had no idea how, but people had once lived here. After all, someone had to have built that pier from rough-hewn stone, attached metal rings to the mooring wall, and tied a boat to each ring. The pier was long. There were many boats along it. Kartashov tried to count them but gave up. Not that the astrobiologist of the Martian expedition wanted to stick around the deserted pier. The boats weren't here by chance — it was an invitation. Take any of them and go. There was even a paddle at the stern.
Strangely enough, the question of going where wasn't something that popped into Kartashov's head. As soon as he stepped down from the pier onto one of the boats, he was certain that he needed to go northwest and to always keep the dully muttering and smoking volcano at his back. It wasn't difficult to achieve that. The huge thing wouldn't disappear over the horizon for quite a while. Even though the horizon here, as the cosmonaut's trained eye had noticed right away, was a lot closer than on Earth. And the gravity was lower too. Maybe three times less…
Strange, Kartashov was thinking while alternating paddling on each side, strange that even in the afterlife I notice these seemingly nonexistent details. After all, who cares how close the horizon is in heaven, and what gravity there is like? Then again, who says this is heaven? Volcanoes tend to be in the other place…
What was also strange was that he was still hungry and thirsty in heaven. Kartashov quickly solved that problem. The water in the river was brackish but clear. And the shellfish turned out to be quite edible, even having a pleasant crunch to it.
Satiety was the source of complacency. After sating his hunger, Kartashov even started enjoying the monotonous landscape. His thoughts were flowing lazily, just like the strange river through which he not so much paddled as waded through. His eyes were noting minute details, his brain was putting it all together, and a picture was gradually taking shape.
It was a strange afterlife. Living, corporeal. Real. As real as the tiredness, the hunger, and the calluses on his hands from the paddle handle. But… it was nonexistent. And not in the sense that the afterlife didn't exist. This world could have existed. And probably had once…
And longer Kartashov thought about it, the stronger was his confidence in the knowledge of exactly which world he'd ended up in after dying…
Was it after, though? He remembered the flaming ocean of the up-close Sun. Its monstrous heat, to which millions of kilometers of vacuum were nothing, to say nothing of the pitiful shell of the spacesuit. Kartashov remembered the sensation of touching that heat. As if a giant dog had licked him with its scalding-hot tongue, skinning him alive. Hell, sucking out his life.
As a biologist, Kartashov knew that he'd gotten a lethal dose. And that he was most likely going to die. But he was alive for now. He was in a coma in the ship's infirmary. And, at the same time, he was paddling down a river overgrown with red reeds. How was it possible? God only knew. Or maybe not God, maybe it was some other intelligence…
Kartashov frequently slept at night. If he happened upon a small island, then he'd sleep on dry land. Otherwise, he'd lie down in the boat. But he couldn't sleep well in it. So he watched the sky. Occasionally, the winds pushed away the cloud of volcanic ash, and the stars appeared. Kartashov was glad to recognize the constellation patterns. He also saw a blue star that made his heart beat anxiously and happily.
After noticing it, Kartashov lost all the doubts regarding his location. He was also seeing other objects in space that seemed to confirm his theory. Two small but nimble stars flew past in the night sky. One was brighter, the other dimmer. Not even stars, more like tiny moons. He might've even shouted "Eureka!" if not…
If not for the third moon that appeared once night. It was dim and was moving faster than the others. But that wasn't what caught his attention. Unlike the two others, the "third moon" was rounding the world Kartashov was on a polar orbit instead of an equatorial one!
So when one fine morning Kartashov ran into a large island with his friends from the Ares sleeping peacefully on the bank, he felt he had a full right to shout, "Why are you all sleeping? Going to miss Mars! Time to get up!"
As Anikeev had feared, there were no sensible versions of events. A sudden reactor explosion? Why would it explode? A meteorite collision? No, the satellites would've picked it up. And it wasn't the main issue — thousands of people were monitoring the two flights: radio telescopes on Earth and the Moon, orbital tracking systems, etc. In the event of a disaster, there'd be a huge reaction.
Speaking of reactions…
The Commander swept the crew with a clear gaze.
"Holy crap, guys," he muttered. "It's been at least an hour since the Boat has disappeared, and Earth still hasn't reacted! How can that be?!"
"That's true, Commander," Givens said. "Are they all sleeping down there or something?!"
"Maybe Earth is gone too," Piccirilli joked.
It was a bad joke. That much was obvious by the looks in everyone's faces. Jeubin even clenched his fists.
"We need to check," the Commander said. "John, contact ground control."
"Korolyov or Houston?" Bull asked.
"Doesn't matter," Anikeev waved it off. "Send them the usual data. And Kartashov's condition. Then inquire how the taikonauts are doing. Report when you're done. I'm off to bed."
He went to his cabin. There was too much going on. He needed to get some rest, to "wind up his eyes" for a few minutes, as his veteran great-grandfather used to say…
"Andrei?.."
Anikeev furiously rubbed his eyes with his fists and peered again. There were spots in his eyes, but Kartashov didn't vanish. He was standing two paces away. Tanned, smiling, Alive.
Unshaven, the Commander noted automatically. Wrinkled jumpsuit with a hole in the right knee… God, what am I thinking?!
"Awaiting orders, Commander," Kartashov said.
"Where are we?" Anikeev asked, looking around.
Water. Plants. A mountain on the horizon. A smoking mountain. A volcano?
"On Mars, Commander," Kartashov replied.
"Really? Then how are we breathing? And what about the river and the reeds?"
Kartashov smiled guiltily and shrugged.
"Aah, I see," Anikeev realized. "This is a dream."
"Something like that," Kartashov agreed. "Especially since everyone else is still sleeping."
He indicated the spacers lying on the sandy beach.
"I remember!" Anikeev said. "I heard your voice in my sleep."
"Yep," Kartashov smiled. "I tried to wake you guys up. But only you did."
"I woke up in a dream," Anikeev pointed out.
"Doesn't matter," Kartashov said. "The important part is that you woke up. Looks like the others aren't ready yet."
"Ready for what?"
"I don't know for sure," Kartashov said, "but I think it's first contact."
"Yeah, things aren't so hot with that," Anikeev agreed. "Jeubin was playing some galactic checkers with a ghost but didn't figure anything out. I guess the aliens have decided to try going through you."
"Sarcasm?" Kartashov asked. "No need for that. I get it, you think that this is all in a dream. Your dream, Commander."
"You think differently?" Anikeev asked.
"Yeah," Kartashov replied. "I've been here for almost a month. I figured out that I was on my all on my own. On Mars in a distant past. I woke up like you did. Except it wasn't on this island, it was on a stone pier with boats tied to it. I took one and came here—"
"And what does that explain?" Anikeev interrupted him. "So far, I haven't learned anything I didn't know before or couldn't imagine."
"Not going to argue," Kartashov said. "All this," he swept his hand, "can be easily imagined. If I could show you how certain I am that this isn't a dream…"
"Try," Anikeev demanded.
"Yes, sir," Kartashov replied sarcastically and, after a moment's pause, continued, "I know I'm in a coma, that I don't have long left… Most likely, when I die on the Ares, I'll die here too. This isn't the afterlife, after all—"
"What do you think this is?" Anikeev interrupted again.
He didn't know why, but Dream Kartashov irritated him. Even more than Real Kartashov.
"I already told you," Kartashov said patiently. "This is Mars but in a different geological era. An inhabited Mars. And it's not only inhabited by fairly primitive fauna but also people. Just look at this boat… Then again, sorry," he caught himself. "I forgot that this isn't proof to you. Fine, I have a theory that you'll probably see as mystical nonsense."
"Well?"
"Someone or something is trying to establish contact with us when we're in an altered state of consciousness," Kartashov continued. "You're asleep. I'm in a coma…"
"And Jeubin?"
"Jeubin was exercising. Therefore, he was in a light trance. It's not unusual. A trance can be caused by any evenly repeating actions."
"Let's say that's true," Anikeev grunted. "What then?"
"Well… Our contact partner, whoever that is, keeps trying to pick different keys to us. 'Galactic checkers' for Jeubin. An inhabited Mars for us. There will probably be others…"
"Makes sense," Anikeev said. "If I figured that out myself, and in a dream too… But you did say 'for us'."
"Well, yeah!" Kartashov confirmed. "I'm as much a target of contact as you…"
"But where's the proof?!"
Kartashov spread his hands, his entire being saying, "So stubborn."
"See?"
Anikeev couldn't look at the exasperated astrobiologist.
Seriously, why am I being so stubborn? he thought. I should be happy to see Kartashov alive and well, even in a dream… So that's what it is… It's my conscience… Got my subordinate killed… Hell, not just a subordinate, a friend…
Avoiding Kartashov's eyes, he started looking around, enjoying the dream's colors and materiality. And the air! Not the recycled crap they had to breathe on the ship… And the water! It would be nice to sleep for longer, maybe he'd have a chance to go for a swim. He was sick of the sponge baths… And the sky!..
"Wait!" Kartashov said. "I got it!"
"What?"
"Proof!"
"I'm listening."
Anikeev promised he wouldn't get irritated no matter what Andrei said.
"At night, I've observed a third satellite several times," Kartashov said. "It might be artificial since it's moving in a polar orbit. When you wake up, Commander, try to find it."
"No problem," Anikeev replied. "Lots of stuff is circling Mars…"
"You know what I mean," Kartashov said to that. "Look for an alien satellite. For me!"
"All right," Anikeev grunted. "I'll try…"
"Commander!"
Someone was shaking him by the shoulder. Anikeev opened his eyes with difficulty.
Bull? he thought lazily. Did he wake up too?
"Sorry, Commander," the American said, "but you told me to report when I was done."
"Oh… right." Anikeev was now fully awake. "How's Earth?"
"Earth is fine, Commander."
"And the Chinese?"
"If Houston is to be believed, the Chinese are fine too. They can see them!"
"Then what does this mean?" the commander of the Ares said. "Are the European satellites lying to us?"
"I don't think so, Commander," Bull shook his head. "It looks like they simply lost the Millennium Boat."
"Meaning?"
"Houston says the Chinese are still accelerating, even though they should've started decelerating some time ago…"