This is a fan translation of Road to Mars (Дорога к Марсу) by fifteen Russian science fiction writers.
This chapter was written by Alexei Kalugin.
I claim no rights to the contents herein.
Chapter 29
The Ghost's Prophecy
Zhang Li completed the calculations and smiled in satisfaction.
"Our speed is once again eleven percent higher than planned!"
Zhang looked at his partner.
Hu Jun was sitting in his chair, strapped in. His knees were picked up, his hands were folded on his chest. His gaze was directed into the void. Into the darkness of space beyond the walls of the ship.
"Hey!" Zhang shook his partner's shoulder.
Not seeing any result, he gave him a weak slap.
Then a stronger one.
"Ah!"
Hu's head shot up, as if he'd been jerked out of his sleep. Or something even deeper. His unseeing gaze slid from side to side and then down to the floor.
Zhang sighed quietly while looking at his comrade.
Hu finally managed to focus his eyes. First on the console. Then he looked at Zhang.
The last thing he wanted to see right now was his comrade's face. But there was nothing to be done about it. They were stuck together in a tin can. Sealed in. Like sardines. Two tiny dumb fishes. He just had no idea whom they were going to be served to.
"Again?" was all Zhang could ask.
His face and gaze were full of reproach.
"No, it's fine."
Hu shook his head and even made an attempt to smile, but it wasn't very convincing.
"What was it this time?" Zhang asked.
"I was just thinking!" Hu's chin twitched nervously.
He still didn't fully understand what had happened to him.
"Is your helmet all right?"
Zhang reached out to check whether the battery in the helmet on Hu's head still had a charge. But Hu pushed his hand away roughly.
"I'm fine!" he almost shouted.
"I know," Zhang tried to calm him. "That's the way it should be. Both of us are fine. We've gone through training. We were the best. That was why they sent us. The party and the government have entrusted this important mission to us. And we can't, we mustn't fail them."
He'd repeated that many times already. Not word for word, but the basic meaning was the same. Not so much for Hu's sake as for his own. Zhang felt that he was also on the verge of a breakdown. And there was no way to know which of them was going to lose control first.
"We need to take our medicine."
Zhang opened the first aid kit, took out a magnetic tube attached to the side, twisted off the cap, and tapped the bottom lightly to get a pill.
Hu swung his arm and knocked the tube out of his hands.
Red-and-white elongated pills with medicine scattered.
Zhang felt anger engulf him.
Anger at Hu, at himself, at those who'd sent them here…
He could control his emotions.
But how long would he be able to restrain himself?..
Zhang caught the slowly spinning tube, clenched it in his fist, and started catching the floating pills with his other hand. Focusing completely on this task, he wasn't thinking about anything else.
Nothing at all.
Suddenly he saw a little girl step out of the bulkhead. His youngest daughter Yun. She'd turned seven three weeks before the launch of the Millennium Boat.
"Hi, Dad!" Yun smiled cheerfully.
"Hi, little one," Zhang replied mentally.
He and Hu had long ago figured out that they could communicate with the ghosts mentally. It was easier that way. Because the only person who could see a ghost was the one they'd come to.
"What are you doing?" Yun tilted her head curiously.
"Exercising," Zhang answered and deliberately bent his elbow several times.
He wasn't crazy and knew perfectly well that this wasn't actually his daughter Yun.
At first, both he and Hu had attempted to question the ghosts, trying to figure out who they were and why they were coming. But that turned out to be fruitless. The ghosts were simply ignoring their questions. So the taikonauts started treating the ghosts as if they really were who they looked like. Otherwise they might go crazy.
"When are you coming home, Dad?" Yun asked.
"Not very soon, dear—" Zhang began.
He wanted to tell the girl about the flight to the distant Red Planet, about why he'd agreed to go there, and how it was all supposed to end. But she interrupted him.
"You're not coming back," she said confidently and even harshly.
"Why do you say that?" Zhang was so shocked that he spoke those words aloud.
Hu threw a sideways glance at him, chuckled, but said nothing.
"You're going to stay on Mars forever," Yun declared just as categorically.
"No, you're mistaken…"
"I can't be mistaken.
"You don't know everything…"
"I do know everything."
"Listen, Yun…"
Zhang reached out towards the girl.
He shouldn't have done that. The ghosts avoided any physical contact with the humans.
"I'm not listening!" Yun shouted capriciously, took a step back, and disappeared through the bulkhead.
Zhang bit his lip in confusion.
What did the ghost's words mean?
Was there even any meaning in them?
It was pointless to think about that. So Zhang resumed the task of catching the pills.
He didn't know, couldn't decide for himself whether it was best to think about what was happening aboard the ship or not. Neither did Hu. They'd talked about it at first, trying to figure it out together, work out some strategy. But then they stopped. Because it was all utterly pointless. Or, at least, it seemed that way.
Two weeks before the launch, when they were already in quarantine, they were informed of a secret experiment conducted by Chinese scientists. A mysterious object they called the Eye of Power had been discovered on the surface of Mars. They had no idea what it was. But there was almost no doubt that the object was of artificial nature. The Eye of Power was the source of a directed gravity beam with variable indicators. The researchers couldn't obtain any meaningful information by analyzing the changes in the beam's intensity. But they were able to temporarily change the direction of the beam by sending a signal from a satellite.
Naturally, the Eye of Power was supposed to be the primary target of the Martian expedition's research. But that wasn't all. The Chinese scientists had figured out how to use the strength of the gravity beam to significantly increase the power of the spaceship's engines. The only way to test the device they'd created was during the actual flight. The scientist had no doubt that the taikonauts would make it work.
And they had!
The beam's direction was unstable. But when the beam ended up being directly aimed along the axis of the ship's movement, the power of the Millennium Boat's engines increased by eight to twelve percent!
Chinese science had once again demonstrated that it was unparalleled in the world!
But, as it turned out, they'd failed to account for two things.
When the Boat had first ended up in the path of the Eye of Power's beam, the taikonauts were horrified to learn that the outside world ceased to exist. Everything beyond the limits of the ship disappeared. All the comms fell silent, all the navigation systems shut off. That continued until the beam slid away towards the Russian ship Ares.
Contacting ground control, the taikonauts had learned that all this time their ship was invisible on the radar.
In time, Zhang and Hu got used to that. And even laughed while listening to the Russians' messages to Earth. They had no idea why the Chinese ship kept disappearing and reappearing.
The second peculiarity of the Eye of Power's beam, previously unknown, was a serious problem.
Back on Earth, the scientists had theorized that the beam could have an effect on certain parts of the brain and the psyche of the taikonauts. To protect them, they developed special helmets the taikonauts put on each time the ship found itself targeted by the emission. Maybe the helmets did protect their brains, but, despite that, the taikonauts' psyche was getting worse.
That was thanks to the ghosts that started to regularly appear on the ship when it intersected the gravity beam. They were images of the loved ones, friends, and acquaintances they'd left behind on Earth. Or even ones who were long dead.
At first, each taikonaut had thought that only he was seeing ghosts. There could be a multitude of explanations for such a phenomenon. Starting with constant stress and ending with the effects of the gravity beam on the brain. But, in time, it became clear that the ghosts were a phenomenon of a very different kind. Mental disorders had nothing to do with this. The ghosts existed as an objective reality at the subjective level of perception.
After informing China of what was happening aboard the ship, Zhang and Hu were instructed to writing down the conversations with the ghosts word for word and sending them to ground control. The taikonauts were doing as ordered. But no one could know how honest they were in their reports. Each of them saw on his own ghosts.
All guesses about the nature of the "guests" and the goal of their visits remained guesses. Meanwhile, the two comrades were becoming more and more secretive. For some reason, in time, both felt uncomfortable discussing their conversations with the ghosts. As if they were touched upon something personal, maybe even intimate. But that wasn't the case. As a rule, the conversations were fairly generic. Almost like small talk. An exchange of standard, meaningless phrases.
The taikonauts were becoming closed-in even more.
All attempts by one to try to, if not break down the wall of alienation between them, then at least make a hole in it ended with a burst of hatred from the other.
They both understood that it wasn't a good thing. That such alienation, when they were only two of them, could end very badly. Even if they were constantly taking tranquilizers. And their supply wasn't limitless either. But neither could do anything about it.
And that only made things worse.
"I'm sorry," Hu said quietly, bowing his head low. "That wasn't a nice thing to do."
"I understand," Zhang smiled and handed Hu the medicine tube.
"No," Hu shook his head decisively. "I don't think I need it anymore."
"So do I. But I'm still taking the medicine." Zhang shook the tube and lifted it to his ear. "What's for dinner tonight?" he asked his comrade.
"What do you want?" Hu looked at him.
"Sweet and sour beef with rice noodles." Zhang rolled his eyes blissfully, lifted his hand, and pretended to be holding chopsticks. "Noodles! I'd give up Mars for some noodles!"
Looking at him, Hu smiled too.
No, he thought, they were still a team. One that was well-trained and close. And they had every chance to complete their mission. He believed that now more than ever.
Suddenly, Zhang stopped smiling.
"I talked to my daughter today," he said.
"Which one?"
"The youngest, Yun. She said I'm not going to come back from Mars."
Before he even finished speaking, Zhang regretted even saying it.
He'd given in to a momentary impulse to share his grief with his friend.
Dumb.
The ghost's words weren't going to give either him or Hu confidence.
Dumb.
To his surprise, Hu didn't get upset. On the contrary, he was now smiling lightly and genuinely. Zhang had forgotten the last time he saw such a smile on his friend's face.
"No matter what your ghost says, Zhang, it's going to be fine. I'm telling you this."
"That's what I think too," Zhang hurried to agree. "But…" He raised his hands in some confusion. "What makes you so certain?"
Hu squinted slyly.
"While you were busy correcting our speed, I was aboard the Ares."
"Aboard the Ares?" Zhang asked in confusion. "The Russian ship?"
"Don't ask how, I don't know myself. But I was definitely there!"
"All right," Zhang decided not to argue. After everything that had happened on the Millennium Boat, he was ready to believe almost anything. "What's going on there?"
"The Russians have opened up the American storage module. They found something there."