This is a fan translation of Road to Mars (Дорога к Марсу) by fifteen Russian science fiction writers.

This chapter was written by Alexander Gromov.

I claim no rights to the contents herein.

Chapter 22

Givens's Comet

Curiouser and curiouser, Kartashov thought. He'd never understood or liked Lewis Carroll, but the quote appeared in his mind on its own. Then again, normal, unremarkable minds had to think in quotes, if their unconscious selection can even be called thinking. But why not? There had to be a foothold, right? Right. In order to start moving logically and bring the unknown down to the trivial. It was actually a fairly scientific approach. That was all science did.

A lethal dose of radiation. Obviously it was lethal. Miracles didn't happen. And these surprising visions.

Almost real? If only. No "almost" about it. All five senses were fully engaged, this strange world was real because it was given in sensations, the volcano was smoking, the water was flowing, the reeds were growing, the moons were speeding across the sky, plus one of them wasn't normal… The air was alive. The circle of the Sun was rolling over the heavens. Anikeev…

Now that was a complication. The Commander had been there, engaged in a conversation, heard his request to search for a satellite on a meridional orbit of Mars, and then vanished. And not simply dissolving. One moment he was there, and then he wasn't. The sleeping guys were gone too. This didn't happen in reality.

Correction, Kartashov told himself. This doesn't happen in our reality. But I'm not hallucinating, that's for certain. The hallucination is far too detailed for that. Well, let's say that my theory is correct, and this is first contact. Or, more likely, a prelude to first contact. Let's say I really am on Mars the way it was maybe three billion years ago. A time machine? I think astrophysicists and cosmologists have proven that it was fundamentally impossible. Then again, to a savage, an ordinary projector and a sheet screen was a kind of time machine. Show him a historical movie and then try to explain that it wasn't true.

All right, he could assume this wasn't the distant past of the fourth planet from the Sun and instead some parallel reality that also had a Mars but a different one. How could he test that? He couldn't, so the value of that theory was almost zero. It would be nice if someone were to appear and explain what was what… If these guys were going for first contact and had done at least some research on humanity, they could've at least adjusted to the human expectations of a first contact!

Curiouser and curiouser…

His body was aboard the Ares and was likely slowly dying in the infirmary. Man as an individual was a unit of information. Information couldn't exist without storage; destroy the storage, and the information was lost. The conclusion that death there would result in death here was fairly logical, but… anything could happen. An alien intelligence was darkness. A powerful alien intelligence was darkness squared. He couldn't be certain of anything when dealing with something like that.

But it would be foolish to indulge in hope.

The question was simple: what should he do?

Observe the end of life, as the ancient Solon had taught. Including the end of his own life. A scientist observed for as long as he could! And do his best to leave behind some notes. He couldn't think of anything better anyway.

This question, as well as several others, Andrei had solved in his first several days. Although he had no way to write down the results of his observations, except maybe to scratch notes on the sides of the boat or the paddle with a sharp rock. Or maybe weave a robe from the local red grass and use knots for notations. But then who'd be able to read them?..

Fine. He was grateful he hadn't been sent to Mars naked. His flight suit had been left on him, well, copied from the original, instead of being dressed in a fur coat or a tutu. The suit was very comfortable. Unfortunately, there was nothing in the pockets like a voice recorder or a pencil.

Days passed. A day here was thirty-seven minutes longer than on Earth. Nights were now a lot cooler, as the volcano-heated area was far behind. Frost came out in the morning, covering the red reeds and reluctantly thawing after sunrise. Now Andrei slept in the boat, keeping it far from the banks at night and covering himself with two or three piles of reeds. In the morning, he tossed the reeds overboard and paddled on.

Downstream.

The volcano had disappeared from the horizon long ago. As had the cloud of ash over it. Maybe the water had carried the boat far enough away, or maybe the volcano was tired of erupting. Unless its eruptions were controlled by the natives, Kartashov thought.

But the current was now slower. More and more backwaters appeared, wide and shallow. Some of them were so overgrown with red reeds that the boat could barely make its way through that soup. There was probably a sea or a large inland lake up ahead. With every passing day, the water was becoming saltier, which didn't reflect on the taste of the shellfish in the least. They were actually slightly larger now.

Kartashov was sick of this journey with the unchanging diet and the monotonous landscape. The brackish wash was nauseating. Not that sitting on the pier and waiting for a gift from the volcano like a pyroclastic flow was much better. But one fact was undisputable: there was a pier, clearly the work of natives, and there were their boats, which were fairly decent watercraft. In good condition too, and wooden boats didn't last long. Logic would suggest that there had to be a village of some kind not far from there. He ought to have looked around some more. And if the natives had abandoned their homes because of the volcano, then why didn't they use the boats? Was there a more convenient land route?

All right, that was possible. But then why hadn't he spotted any traces of intelligent activity on the banks? Did no one live in this delta? Was this a protected area?

His imagination was now engaged. The lake or the sea up ahead was probably sacred, tabooed by priests, and it was home to some local dragon with a mouth like a megalodon, to which the timid natives fed pretty girls on holidays. Or maybe the lakeshore held the palace of the supreme ruler of Mars…

But instead of dragons and palaces there was just another backwater, and the low wall of the red reeds on the opposite bank hid new channels. The current was gone entirely.

"So this puddle is your sea?" Kartashov asked. "Not a great life. No big water, no beasts, no birds… I know why you died out! From boredom!"

Why not tease the ones watching him and waiting? Maybe they would answer.

But his minor provocations were doing nothing, and Andrei didn't want to try going to big ones yet.

Once, he suddenly thought of the name Ognev, which refused to leave his mind. It was in there for a whole day, rolling around like a bead inside a rattle. Driving him crazy like an earworm. But where had it come from? Kartashov didn't know anyone with that name. He was starting to go mad…

"Are you trying to drive me insane?" he asked someone. "Go ahead. You can do it. What, my mind isn't sufficiently changed for first contact? You could at least give me a hint at what form of insanity you prefer. Schizophrenia? Paranoia? Bipolar disorder? Hey!.."

All he heard in response was the even splashing of water under his paddle and the quiet rustling of the reeds in the faint wind.

The comet was discovered by Givens, entirely by accident. He just noticed it in the corner of the screen during a routine visual inspection of the ship's outer hull. The celestial wanderer looked like a hazy spot with a glowing spark in the middle. It also had two ghostly tails: one thin as a beam, and one short and lush. After consulting with ground control, they learned that it was a new comet, and its orbital parameters would soon be determined. Indeed, thirty hours later, they were informed that the comet had been given the preliminary name of "Givens's Comet," that its orbit didn't intersect the Ares's trajectory, and that the closest approach point (1.17 million kilometers) had already passed. The Ares wasn't going to pass through the dust tail, but…

"Enjoying the view?" Anikeev asked sourly, gathering the crew in the hab unit. "And now surprise: we may hit the gas tail."

Silence fell for a few seconds.

"Is that going to endanger us?" Bull asked.

"Probably not." The Commander shrugged. "But no one knows for sure. When you're dealing with a comet, you can't be certain of anything."

That was dumb, he thought. Who'd dealt with comets before? Only unmanned probes.

But he didn't correct himself.

"The separation of tails into dust and gas is fairly arbitrary," he said. "Besides, this close to the Sun, anything can happen with the comet. Definitely gas emissions. The gas breaks through the mineral crust on the core surface and carries pieces of it away. They can include some fairly significant ones."

"How big?" Bull inquired.

"Stones. Boulders. Specks of dust. The whole assortment. Well, all right, grains of sand and specks of dust aren't a threat, but stones… We're moving away from the Sun, the comet is getting closer, we're moving around the Sun on a direct line, the comet is in reverse, so add up the relative speeds. You can guess what could happen if we're hit by something heavier than a tiny pellet."

"What about the sail?" Bull asked.

"Plenty of dust in space," Anikeev grumbled. "There's no doubt that our sail already has hundreds of microholes in it. Long story short, I'm not trying to scare you, ground control also advises us not to do anything, and I as your commander insist on the same. But be on guard. If you need to refresh what to do in case of depressurization, read over the instructions. All right, let's get to work."

Edward was the only one to grumble when leaving that Earth's astronomers could've picked up the comet ahead of time. Funny. Not everything flying through space could be detected. For example, the Ares's sail was seen from Earth as a telescopic star, but to see its shape, they'd need a telescope with the aperture of… hmm… about three meters. Rayleigh's criterion. And it would also be preferrable for the device to be outside the atmosphere, plus one had to know precisely where to aim it… All right, it wasn't that bad. Givens had given his name to a space icicle, the risk of colliding with a dangerous micrometeorite had grown by only a few percent, and only then for a time. The comet was small, the flight was still on, the Chinese were ahead in the race, Andrei was in a coma… Everything was great!

Anikeev hadn't told either ground control or the crew about his dream conversation with Kartashov. It was only a dream. A phenomenon of the same order as a sneeze or a raven's caw. Ground control would wonder if the Commander's psyche was intact. The crew would probably understand, considering all the strangeness… but Anikeev still said nothing. Even if the skeletons were out of the closers (but all of them, though?), even if the crew was now actually like a crew instead of a gathering of secret agents from different nations… still, Anikeev kept his mouth shut. First of all, there was the question of nationality. If this really was first contact, then why was it only affecting involving Russians? National identity is a delicate and irrational thing, no need to touch it without reason. Second, Andrei—the one in the infirmary—was hopeless. Sooner or later, the inevitable was going to happen. What then? Nothing but more sadness. Not everyone should be given false hope.

He ought to look for another large satellite in an areocentric orbit, of course, but how and with what? The Ares wasn't equipped with a large telescope, and Anikeev didn't want to contact ground control with such an odd request. What he if phrased the request as a joke?

Otherwise he'd have to wait and wait. Mars was still far away.

"Topazes, this is ground control," Vedeneev's voice reached them across millions of kilometers at the appropriate time. It now needed five-plus minutes to reach the Ares. "How are things?"

"Everything's fine," Anikeev replied. "Anatoly, is that you? Glad to hear your voice." He really was happy that it was Vedeneev on the call, and that was when he finally decided to do it, "Everything's normal. Andrei is holding on. We're worried about the comet. Poor Edward isn't happy that the damned thing now bears his name. Is there anything else cutting across our path? Maybe there's a third satellite around Mars or something. Give us a shout if anything, okay?.. Just kidding. Like on New Year's. Forget it…"

He knew that Vedeneev would hear him in five minutes and tense up. He would ask again and again would be told that it was just a joke. He'd calm down but still report to Bykov that the commander of the Ares wasn't joking. He'd tell him that New Year story with Anikeev's joke that hadn't actually been a joke. Bykov would understand… maybe.

At that moment, the Ares shuddered like an elephant that was hit with a bullet in the side.