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.

Note: Footnotes can be found at the end of the chapter.


Chapter 24

One-Way Trip

Edward Givens Jr. felt blinding terror.

Had he run into the vilest spider on Earth, he'd have probably managed to deal with his arachnophobia and kept ahold of himself. But here in space, where there simply couldn't be such creatures, the sight of a huge spider sitting on his talisman and chewing on a feather pushed out what was left of his sanity. The fuses burned out. Givens screamed, frantically, like when he'd screamed as a boy when he nearly drowned in a forest lake. And, at that moment, the space next to him exploded in a myriad of sprays, as water splashed all over the compartment, merging into huge gleaming balls. Edward got sprayed too. The cold shower sobered him up. Givens shook his head, coming to his senses and trying to figure out where so much water had come from. And then he nearly screamed again from a strong hand gripping his shoulder.

"Quiet," Givens heard a familiar voice. "Or I'm going to scream too."

Still in disbelief, Edward turned. Andrei Kartashov, alive and well, was floating next to him. But the expedition's astrobiologist and chronicler was quite a sight! Gaunt, with a thick beard, long wet hair stuck to his temples and forehead. His jumpsuit was worn and even torn in places. It was as if Kartashov had just returned from survival training of the sort the Cosmonaut Training Center regularly set up for the crews. But more than anything, Edward was shaken by what Andrei was holding in his free hand — a paddle for a canoe.

None of this could be happening! It was all like… a dream. A crazy dream!

"The spider," Kartashov said, looking past Givens. "We need to kill it."

Edward caught himself and followed the astrobiologist's gaze. The vile arthropod had no intention of waiting for the humans to squish it with a paddle. The spider picked up its legs, leapt from the dreamcatcher onto the wall of the compartment, and ran nimbly away, dodging the water balls. Yet another marvel: no normal living being would be able to run like this in a weightless environment.

"What was that?" the utterly spaced-out Givens asked.

"We need to kill the spider," Kartashov repeated.

"Why?"

The astrobiologist hesitated for a moment.

"Because… because Ognev said so."

"Who's Ognev?"

"I don't know." Andrei looked confused. "Don't know. But he says that the spider needs to be killed. Otherwise…"

Breaking off mid-sentence, Kartashov let go of Givens's shoulder, pushed off from the wall with his dirty sneakers, and flew through the corridor.


"Take Edward to the infirmary," Anikeev ordered. "Jean-Pierre, do you need help?"

"No, sir!"

"Then do it. I'm on my way there. John, to the cockpit… Bruno, do you hear me?.. Immediately run a test of all the ship's systems. Find out what caused the explosion and what we've lost. Report to me ASAP."

"Will do, Comandante."

"And shut off that damned siren!"

The irritating wail of the alarm cut off immediately.

"Excellent. I'm leaving!"

It was difficult for two people to move past each other in the tight confines of the Ares. On the way from the cockpit to the infirmary, Anikeev ran into Bull, who was in a hurry to take his place.

"John, contact Houston. Get Anderson on the horn. Have him provide you with a clear explanation of what's in Storage 2. I won't accept any more excuses!"

"I'll try, Commander."

"Don't try. Get it done!"

Jeubin appeared in the ship's axial corridor that connected the compartments, dragging the limp Givens. Anikeev quickly reached the unoccupied infirmary box, slid the curtain door open, spread the hospital bag, and activated the diagnostic equipment. Anikeev recalled taking part in a heated discussion at the Institute of Biomedical Problems on the subject of how many such boxes to have on the ship: two, three, six? They'd come to a decision that two would be sufficient. Any non-heavy injuries could be recovered in the crew cabins, and heavy ones… If there were three heavily injured crewmembers, then the expedition was already doomed, and that couldn't be permitted under any circumstances. Kartashov was already taking up one of the boxes, and now they needed the other one… They were at the limit…

Jeubin finally dragged Givens over. Anikeev glanced at Edward's pale-white face.

"I don't see any injuries."

"Neither do I," the Frenchman whispered.

"Let's get him undressed," Anikeev ordered.

Helping each other, the spacers quickly disrobed the unconscious man, stuffed him into the bag, and secured with straps.

"Diaper?" Jeubin asked.

"Later…" Anikeev replied. "If we need to… First we run the diagnostic equipment…"

The attached electrodes and the phonendoscope membrane to Givens's skin, wrapped the cuff of the blood pressure monitor on his shoulder, placed the encephalography mesh on his head, and covered his face with a breathing mask. The diagnostic unit's computer came alive, chirped, and the monitor glowed.


"Goddamn it," the President swore. "Goddamn you all to hell."

The President hadn't raised his voice, hadn't even frowned, but it was obvious that he was barely keeping himself from shouting at his subordinate.

"Andrei, please explain to me one simple thing," The President drummed his fingers on the desk. "Why is the head of state the last one to learn of what's happening in space?"

General Ukolov remained unperturbed. He'd prepared well for this conversation.

"Pryahina is suppressing any leaks from mission control. She's the flight director. It's in her power to set up the process in such a way as to keep us from learning of the consequences for a while."

"Why didn't Bykov report it? Is he also?.."

"Unlikely. Bykov is too busy with the Ghost. And he doesn't have practical skills to suspect the head of the Space Council of treason. If not for Vedeneev—"

"This is a theater of the absurd, not a space flight!" the President declared. "And that sail… Where did it come from anyway?"

"Tulin's crew delivered the sail to the ship," Ukolov replied. "As special cargo. The Parity plan. You approved it."

"Yes, I remember." The President's gaze clouded a little. "Parity. That was the name of the space program in Aitmatov's novel…[Footnote 1] Does Pryahina really not give a crap about the future of the nation, the future of Earth? Does she not understand what her sabotage is going to result in?.."

"More than likely, Irina is being kept in the dark," the General said, bringing the President back to reality. "But her security clearance assumes her familiarity with the Parity plan. The Trojan Horse and Plague options. The sail is a one-way trip out of the Solar System, and she knew what she was going when she ordered the crew to unfurl it."

"We need to replace her!"

"On what grounds?"

"She's lost the President's trust."

Ukolov looked down pointedly, "Forgive me, Mr. President, but Pryahina expressed her stern objections to Anikeev's crew going to Mars several times. She openly demanded that the launch be scrubbed. And said many times of the danger of the race. Her objections are on record. If it comes to an inquiry, then it's all going to be on… your head, Mr. President…"

The President clenched his fists involuntarily but then immediately unclenched them and started to once again drum his fingers.

"All right," he said. "We're wasting time. What now?"

The General pulled a thin folder from his briefcase. In point of fact, he remembered the contents of the two pages inside it perfectly well, but he wanted to show that he was relying on an official document rather than his own imagination.

"The Hangar control group has made the calculations," Ukolov informed him, opening the folder. "The sail is giving them a fifteen percent acceleration boost. The Ares will negate this delta-v at Mars by using the fuel meant for the acceleration home. But how do we compensate for the extra usage?.. There's nothing to compensate it with, Mr. President. The control group has determined that, without a resupply of argon, the crew will be unable to return to Earth before they run out of life support supplies."

"The American station at Phobos?"

"There's no argon there. It's a very different type of spacecraft: a lab, a cargo hauler, an orbital ship, and a landing module. They use methane and oxygen as fuel components."

"Does that mean that… the Ares is doomed?"

The General flipped a page.

"There are two options for saving Anikeev's crew. But both of them require unconventional actions on our part."


Jeubin studied the diagrams on the screen carefully and his face fell.

"Not good," he summarized. "Stage 2 coma."

"It's just getting better and better…" Anikeev answered gloomily. "How would you characterize it?"

"I'd say it's a post-traumatic coma, but… in order for the brain to be damaged this much, you'd need a very heavy blow. Kartashov would be able to tell more, he took the entire…" Jean-Pierre paused then pointed a finger at the EEG peaks, "Edward's in REM sleep. That can't happen in a stage 2 coma. But… it also can't be normal REM sleep…"

"Looks like combat psychotronics."

"I have no idea about that, Commander. You know better… In any case, we need to contact ground control and get a consult."

"Understood. Stay here, monitor them. I'm going to the cockpit."

Piccirilli finally managed to shut off the red lights, replacing them with white luminescent ones. The ship was alive again, and nothing reminded them of the recent shake-up.

The crewmembers had followed their commander's orders to the letter: the Italian was sitting at the measurement console, while the American was at the central post.

"Any news, John?"

"I've sent the request, Commander. But the communication lag… Plus it's night in D.C. right now. We'll have to wait."

"Ideas? What could your colleagues have placed in the module?"

Bull looked away.

"If we're talking about contacting an alien intelligence…" The American broke off. "No, that's impossible!"

"What's impossible?!"

"It's a crazy idea, Commander."

"We've already agreed, John," Anikeev said forcefully. "We're one crew. Earth has prepared surprises for us. Dangerous surprises. In order to survive, we have to work together and forget about our oaths."

"It's not about my oath, Commander. I just remembered a conversation… It was a long time ago, the details aren't important… I thought it was just nonsense. But if it's not, then there's an AI in Storage 2."

"What?!"

"A supercomputer that uses artificial neural networks. It has to establish contact, and we're just… there to assist."

"So Edward is the operator?"

"It's just a theory, Commander. A crazy one."

It didn't take long for Anikeev to come to a decision.

"We're jettisoning Storage 2," he said firmly. "There has to be peroxide left in its tanks. We'll seal off the entire compartment and then undock it. We're currently accelerating, so the module is going to get left behind."

"Isn't this too radical, Commander?"

"Edward is in the infirmary. And I suspect that it's that AI of yours that did it."

"It's not mine.

"Even more of a reason to do this… Bruno, what do you have?"

Piccirilli didn't reply right away, and when he finally turned to his crewmates, his haggard face wasn't promising anything good.

"Comandante, it's even worse than we thought. This wasn't an explosion. Storage 2 used its docking thrusters and burned off the rest of its fuel. Our trajectory has changed. And now we're heading straight for the core of Givens's comet!"


Footnotes

1) The novel in question is The Day Lasts More Than a Hundred Years by the Kyrgyz author Chinghiz Aitmatov, published in 1980.