This is a fan translation of Road to Mars (Дорога к Марсу) by fifteen Russian science fiction writers.
This chapter was written by Nikolai Romanov.
I claim no rights to the contents herein.
Chapter 27
Who Are you, Tsuryupa?
There was no point in just standing there. The people in tunics were not going to take his disobedience for long. That was why Kartashov also took two quick steps to the edge of the cliff. But he stopped instead of jumping and looked down.
He had time to see Givens disappear. There he was, falling like a rock and covering his head with his hands, and then he was gone.
Andrei was instantly covered in sweat.
Had Edward been right? Was such a desperate leap the way to salvation? But the only way to confirm his friend's theory was to… No way! He wasn't one to commit suicide, let them push him off…
Without turning, Kartashov took a step back, then another, expecting the tip of a "spear" to poke at his back.
But no one was trying to make the second prisoner follow the first one. Then Andrei looked back.
He was alone. The warriors with "spears" were gone. Nothing but rocks all around…
Kartashov caught his breath and sat on the closest boulder.
There was no way the warriors could've had time to leave in such a short time. Except maybe to fly away. But there was nothing in the lilac sky but the gathering clouds.
He could only surmise that the warriors had been created either by Givens or something (or someone) that was connected to Edward.
Like maybe extracted from the American's genetic memories…
Andrei pulled his backside away from the boulder and returned to the cliff.
But he couldn't make himself jump.
There was a strange yearning in Nikolai Tsuryupa's heart over the past several days. Maybe he was missing his wife—Sveta had gone to stay at her mother's for a few weeks—or the alcohol…
Then again, it was unlikely to be the latter. The thirst for alcohol had disappeared of late. At first, it amazed him, but now Tsuryupa was used to it. As it turned out, living sober was entirely possible. And not at all bad. He had his former authority, was once again in good standing with his bosses, and was completing the design assignments quickly, precisely, and cleverly.
And yet Nikolai kept thinking that he wasn't doing what he was supposed to be…
But Tsuryupa had no idea what he was actually supposed to do.
He'd been dreaming of space since he was little. That was why he'd applied to Bauman and graduated the university that trained specialists for the Russian space program. Unfortunately, his health wouldn't let him become a cosmonaut, so he had to be satisfied with designing ship systems.
And now it was as if he was at a crossroads. If only he knew what the strange stone said… Go right, become a chief designer, go left… Where would he end up? And where was the crossroads?..
All right, it was time to go to bed. Tomorrow was going to be a difficult day…
…He woke up with a feeling that he wasn't alone in the bedroom. He opened his eyes and listened…
The clock on the wall was showing three in the morning… The green digits faded a little in the light of the car passing outside reflected off the ceiling. When the engine noise died down, he heard a strange sound nearby. Maybe rustling, maybe swishing. As if a mouse was chewing a bag of grain… Except the bag wasn't in the kitchen, it was very close! Almost at his side…
Nikolai sat up, hung his feet off the bed, and turned on the light on the nightstand… And then immediately picked the feet back up to the bed.
What the hell was this?!
There was a spider on the rug in front of the bed.
And not an ordinary cross spider that lived in these parts. The arachnid was huge, the size of a bowl. The spider had two eyes that were, for some reason, located on stalks, like those of a crab. Its chelicerae were moving evenly, and it was their movement that was producing the rustling/swishing sound.
The spider was looking at Tsuryupa. The gaze of its gleaming eyes was drawing him in.
Nikolai couldn't bear it and threw the cover onto his legs. As if the artificial down could protect him from that monster…
"Scram!" Tsuryupa said and shuddered at the sound of his own voice.
And then the fear was gone.
The spider seemed to have been waiting for just that. It turned and ran along the bed, disappeared behind the headboard, reappeared on the other side, and headed for the door to the hallway. He vanished through the doorway.
Nikolai didn't move, trying to figure out if it had been a hallucination.
The spider reappeared at the threshold. The eyes on stalks once again stared at the apartment owner.
Several seconds later, the spider once more ran off into the hallway. And then reappeared at the threshold.
As if asking him to follow…
Another car drove by outside.
"This is some crazy stuff…" Tsuryupa muttered. "What do you want? Might as well give me a wave…"
The spider didn't wave, but it did run off into the hallway.
He still wasn't afraid.
Nikolai rose from the bed, put on some pants and slippers, and went to the door.
He stepped into the hallway.
The wall lamp wasn't lit, of course, but there was enough street light streaming through the office door to keep him from walking around blindly.
The stalks of the spider's eyes bent a little, and their gaze was still directed at Tsuryupa.
Confirming that it had managed to draw the owner out of the bedroom, the spider turned and ran down the hallway with a quiet stomping. Its six legs were moving quickly. Picking up speed, it ran straight into the door to the bathroom… No, it didn't! Its body dashed through the door as if it was a ghostly hologram instead of solid wood.
Still no fear.
Tsuryupa ran after it but paused right before the door. He imagined the force of the impact if it really was wood and not a hologram. How would he explain the broken nose and the concussion to the paramedics? A drunken fight with someone?..
Nikolai reached out and touched the door. Except he didn't touch it — his fingers passed through the wood as if it were fog.
Then he stepped forward.
Kartashov was sitting on the stone and thinking.
The familiar lilac sky, flashing with lightning, was hanging over him. It was quickly getting dark. Apparently, the coming thunderstorm was becoming as inevitable as death.
He needed to do something. He couldn't just keep sitting here on the rocks, waiting for who knew what!
The best thing to do would've been to look for the trail leading down to the green valley. But in such poor weather, a journey like that really could result in inevitable death.
Should he get back to the river? Turn the boat over, climb under it, and wait out the storm? The river was close, he could hear the roaring of the waterfall…
No! The road back was probably even more dangerous. He could fall just as easily.
Kartashov rose and walked back to the cliff. Now the bottom of the drop was hidden in darkness, and even the green valley couldn't be seen.
"Don't do it!" came a calm voice from behind him.
Andrei pulled back from the edge and turned. A bare-chested man was standing maybe five paces from him. He looked ridiculous: unkempt hair, leisure pants, and slippers on bare feet. As if he'd escaped from a hospital, forgetting to grab pajamas…
He was also looking at Kartashov with a shocked expression. As if listening to himself. But, a few moments later, his face became calm, as if he'd realized what was happening.
"Do you speak Russian?.. What am I saying? Of course you do."
Kartashov walked up to him and took a closer look.
No, he didn't know the man. It seemed the riverworld was playing another game with him.
"What makes you say that?"
"Because I know you." The man smiled. "You're Andrei Kartashov from the crew going to Mars."
"And who are you?"
The man replied readily, "My name is Nikolai Tsuryupa. I work as a design engineer in Korolyov."
That could very well be true. Kartashov couldn't possibly know all the specialists working on the Martian program.
"How did you get here, Nikolai?"
Tsuryupa shrugged, "No idea. I stepped into my own bathroom and found myself here." He looked around quickly. "Where are we?"
His calm demeanor was shocking. And the last question didn't tie into this calmness in the least.
Only those who knew where they were could be calm.
Something weird was happening. Then again, it wasn't the first weird thing, and it wouldn't be the last…
"I think you know perfectly well where we are."
"No, Andrei, I don't. But I do know what I need to do," Tsuryupa smiled again. "I have no idea how, though. Give me your hand."
What was one more weirdness?..
Kartashov allowed the guest to touch him.
And then he doubled over.
He could no longer hear or see. There was hellish pain all around. In his eyes, in his ears, in his lips. All over his body. Pain, nothing but pain… Even in his thoughts.
Kartashov was dying from it a thousand times, but it wouldn't let him leave. Again and again it pulled him out of the jaws of death, and there was nothing to be done about it. He tried to scream, but only pain came out. More and more Pain… That was the bitch's name, and she was unbearable!
Then bearing it became possible.
Then he heard a slight hum and felt an itch near his nose.
And then he could see.
There was a hand in front of him. It looked human, but not quite — a normal hand didn't produce a strange pulsing purple glow that streamed to his eyes…
The pain went away even more.
The inhuman hand moved away from Kartashov's face and switched to his chest. Now it was itchy there. Then another hand appeared next to the first one.
Andrei squinted and was able to make out Tsuryupa bent over him.
Then he realized where he was.
There was no riverworld around him. He was in the familiar infirmary aboard the Ares. The equipment made by Earth's doctors was beeping and blinking LEDs, the ventilator was humming…
Tsuryupa was looking at Kartashov, and there was no longer a trace of a smile on his face. Only weariness. No, not weariness — utter exhaustion…
He healed me! Andrei realized with a start. And if this is weirdness, then I'll take it!
"Did you heal me? Who are you, Tsuryupa?"
Tsuryupa swayed.
"I think I'm the one in need of healing now," he said and vanished.
Kartashov's entire body started to itch.
Regaining consciousness, Tsuryupa found himself lying next to the bathroom door.
It was bright in the hallway. Apparently, it was already morning.
Who was I drinking with last night? He thought in surprise.
With difficulty, he got to his feet, opened the door, holding the jamb, and walked over to the sink. He looked in the mirror.
There were black circles under his eyes, his face was haggard, the whites of his eyes were red…
Some face! The dead looked nicer! Had he drunk an entire liter?
With shaking fingers, he barley managed to turn on the faucet and splashed a handful of cold water on his face.
It didn't help.
"Who got you drunk?" he asked his own reflection.
There was no answer, of course.
Then he remembered that he no longer drank.
And then everything else that had happened that night.
Swaying, he got to the bedroom.
There was no spider on the rug.
He saw a scale under the bed, bought by Sveta the last time she was concerned about her figure. She'd even trained her husband to weigh himself every morning.
Following a sudden impulse, Tsuryupa dragged the scale out to the middle of the room and stepped on them.
Holy crap! He'd lost seven kilograms since two days ago! Apparently, the nightly events hadn't been a figment of a recovering alcoholic's imagination…
The clock on the wall was showing eight.
It was time to go to work.
He slid the scale back under the bed and returned to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and washed up before taking another look in the mirror.
He recalled some guy try to get to know him back when he'd still been drinking. He even had to inform the FSB about him, and they'd had a few talks to him about that. Without any consequences, though… And then the vodka stopped getting him intoxicated, as if his metabolism had changed.
"Damn it, Tsuryupa! Who the hell are you?"
The reflection said nothing.
Irina Pryahina was sitting at the desk in her office and was surfing the web for the word "Hangar."
The search produced at least five million results in Russian alone.
She had to filter the search. But how?
She thought about it.
There was a reason the President had asked if she knew about the Hangar facility. She needed to find out what it was. She couldn't just leave unknown facilities at her back…
Irina ran a search for "Hangar TsUP."
Only about a thousand results. And a large number of them led to an online literary science fiction project called Onward to Phaeton!
Really? It seemed that some quill-driver had already touched upon the subject matter…
Then again, they weren't talking about the Martian expedition, but a complete match would be shocking. Then again, such things had happened in the past. One American science fiction writer had nearly gotten accused of revealing state secrets…
But now wasn't the time for science fiction! She'd look for results that had to do with reality.
She started scrolling at a slow enough speed to scan the links.
And then the computer produced a signal indicating a new email.
Irina opened it, and her eyes went wide in fear.