This is a fan translation of Road to Mars (Дорога к Марсу) by fifteen Russian science fiction writers.
This chapter was written by Yevgeni Garkushev.
I claim no rights to the contents herein.
Note: Footnotes can be found at the end of the chapter.
Chapter 31
The Lost Golden Sail
Kartashov's hoarse voice rang out like it came from a damaged track of an ancient black-and-white movie. But Anikeev hadn't heard anything more pleasant of late. The voice of an old friend, and without any accent! No matter how well the others spoke Russian, it wasn't their native language.
"How'd you end up here, buddy?" Piccirilli inquired.
The Italian's black eyes were wide, and his face was twisted in surprise.
"I just walked through the wall," Andrei said quietly. "Didn't expect me?"
Bull was looking at the miraculously resurrected Russian with undisguised fear. Only the Frenchman was remaining calm. Jean-Pierre immediately came close to Kartashov, took his hand, and stated, "Just remain calm! Don't try to walk through walls again. And move very carefully. All right?"
"Oh, I can do a lot," Andrei smiled.
"We can all do a lot. But let's not overestimate our abilities, right? Let's go back to the infirmary."
"Right!" Anikeev cheered up. "We need to run some tests. It's so great to see you up and about!"
Kartashov wanted to do something nice for his regained friends. To share his joy. To show them the green Mars.
He mentally reached out for the bulkhead, intending to turn it transparent. Let his friends realize that the world was more complicated than they thought! Let Mars appear to them in all its beauty!
The bulkhead refused to change.
Andrei shook his head, touched the wall with his hand, intending to walk through it. The wall turned out to be surprisingly solid.
"Dizzy?" the Frenchman asked in sympathy. "It's all right! Shouldn't have gotten to your feet so quickly! What's important is that you're feeling better!"
"It's going to be fine, Andrei!" Anikeev added.
"I know," Kartashov replied hoarsely. "Some water would be nice… Or maybe orange juice."
"I'll get you juice. Straight from sunny Sicily!" Piccirilli exclaimed. "From my own supply!"
Bull finally recovered and declared, "I have fifty grams of pure whiskey. An eighteen-year vintage. You've earned it!"
"I don't drink anymore. Just like Tsuryupa," Kartashov informed them sadly.
Anikeev gave his friend a suspicious look but said nothing. But an old Ukrainian saying was just trying to get out: "If a person doesn't drink, they're either sick or a scumbag." And that Tsuryupa… Who the hell was that?
An emergency message was glowing on the screen, only a few Chinese characters. Zhang shifted Hu away slightly and read, "The subjects of which the Master seldom spoke were: profitableness, and also the appointments of Heaven, and perfect virtue." [Footnote 1]
"It's from 'Zi Han'," Hu explained.
"The message has an addendum," Zhang added. "We're initiating deceleration later than planned. The Big Noses once again accelerated and nearly slammed into a comet. I'm sure you have an appropriate quote from Confucius."
"About the Russians and the comet? No."
"About us!"
Hu stood up straight, as much as it was possible in zero-g, and replied, "The Master said, 'Let a good man teach the people seven years, and they may then likewise be employed in war.'"
Zhang nodded slowly, took on as respectful a posture as he could, and said, "We've been taught by more than one good man for a lot longer than that. We're ready for war."
After declaring their intention to win or die, the comrades grew sad. Each hour they won in the race to Mars reduced their chances for survival. If the landing module and return vessel were already waiting for the Russians and the Americans in orbit of Mars, then their own "return ticket" was delayed, catastrophically late. Still, they were gong to try to arrive first and to survive!
"The density of the gravity beam has grown by thirty percent," Zhang informed him after checking the instruments. "We can accelerate even more!"
"We're not going to have enough fuel to get back into orbit. Even in theory," Hu replied. "The deceleration is going to burn off all our stores."
"If we're first, then it's not that important whether we come back or not," Zhang declared. "If we're second and don't come back, then no one is even going to remember us."
"Scott is remembered. Sometimes," Hu answered gloomily.
"But Amundsen is remembered a lot more often. Besides, we can't fail to complete the mission entrusted to us by the party, whether we want to or not. What are our lives compared to the prosperity of China and the path of history?"
"The important part is to choose the path and stay on it," Hu agreed. "We've chosen ours a long time ago."
"Your body is dehydrated," Jeubin declared after completing the examination of the miraculously recovered Kartashov. "Strange, we've been continuously giving you saline intravenously. As far as everything else goes, it's as if nothing happened you. Truly, the capabilities of the human body are endless!"
"You have no idea," Andrei smiled wearily. "And where does the strength come from?"
"Want to get some sleep?" Anikeev asked with concern.
Kartashov threw the Commander a horrified look.
"I've had plenty of sleep, Slava! Enough for days."
"Yeah… I guess… But you're still weak."
"Then I need to regain my strength. Work is the best medicine."
"There's lots of it. Right now we're rolling up the sail, in three hours we're initiating deceleration. The faster we dock, move over, and come down from orbit, the higher our chances of getting ahead of the Chinese are. The Millennium Boat is starting to lag behind us according to their trajectory, but the taikonauts have no need to move from one ship to another…"
The orange ball of Mars was growing before their very eyes, blowing up like an orange in some miraculous greenhouse. The spacers were turning the winches without tire, pulling in some halyards and loosening others. The multikilometer sail was rolling in, turning into a soft golden lump. Unfortunately, they'd never be able to get the expensive and top secret caetan sail back into its container, but leaving a sheet a hundred square kilometers in front of them was also highly inadvisable. If they simply jettisoned the halyards, then the sail would go into free flight. But what if the ship struck it? It was best not to experiment. Or leave a lot of trash behind them.
Bull and Piccirilli were working outside in EVA suits. Anikeev remained in the cockpit. Jeubin kept running back and forth, as there weren't enough pairs of hands to go around. Meanwhile, Kartashov, having tried and failed to roll up the sail with a mental effort, realized that he would have to get used to ordinary life. He really wanted to tell his commander and friend about his adventures on the green Mars, except Anikeev had other things on his mind at the moment…
Kartashov felt himself as an outsider at a feast of life. The metal walls were pressing on him, there wasn't enough air, his heart was beating quickly. It was growing heavier. But Andrei felt genuine shock when a voice boomed in his head, Get up and go!
"Where?" the cosmonaut whispered.
Storage 2.
"Do I have to?" Kartashov whined, as if he was being forced to go down into a snake pit or urged to get into a tiger cage.
Yes, the inner voice answered confidently.
Kartashov sighed and floated towards the storage module.
Bull and Piccirilli entered the airlock at the same time. Both were tired but pleased. The work had been done properly, Mars was close, and even miracles happened in life. The suddenly recovered Russian was a clear example of that.
"Too bad Givens can't tell us about our cargo in Storage 2," the Italian winked at Bull through his helmet visor. "I hope he comes to also, but for now we have to rack our brains on our own. You don't happen to know the details of the supercomputer… or whatever your people put in that mysterious compartment, do you?"
"No. Maybe the primary crew knew something. At first, we were simply not told such secret things. And then, I guess they decided that it wasn't necessary."
"Let's assume so," Bruno chuckled skeptically. "Still, you know your country's technology and mentality better. What were they trying to say with that antique monitor and strange films?"
Tapping the bulkhead with his glove, Bull thought about it for a few seconds. Naturally, he'd already been thinking about it and come to certain conclusions and was now trying to word his answer as precisely as possible.
"The monitor is probably a backup," he informed the other man.
"What?" Piccirilli asked in surprise.
"There's more than one interface. What we saw is probably very reliable. Why install a wall-to-wall LCD if it can fail at the exact wrong moment? The antique monitor is likely some sort of hybrid, a prototype, a state-of-the-art development without a pretty wrapper."
"Let's assume so," Bruno agreed again. "But black-and-white films, John? If we're dealing with some advanced mind, then why would it show us old movies?"
Bull shifted his chin and said, "An advanced mind would think differently. Maybe it has nothing to say to us for the moment. But it had to get our attention. Or to turn out thoughts onto the right path."
Anikeev butted into his friends' conversation, "Are you trying to say that our mechanical partner is worried about our thought processes?"
"Exactly!" Bull answered. "It doesn't plan on using its authority to pressure us. Imagine that we're flying with someone who can do ten times as much as each of us, knows a hundred times more, can calculate a thousand times faster. Would you dare object to them? You're not even going to consider it. After all, it's not like we verify the calculations of the onboard computers with an abacus. But a superior intelligence—assuming it really is an AI in there—has to be our partner, not a father watching over a bunch of dumb kids."
"I wonder if it can hear us right now," Piccirilli said.
"If Anikeev managed, then why not the advanced mind?" Bull snorted. "Of course it can, it's just pretending not to."
There was a loud hiss. Bruno, who'd been standing with his back to the hatch, turned sharply, even though it was obvious that nothing scary or even out of the ordinary had happened. The airlock's pressure was now simply equal to that inside the ship, so they could remove their suits.
The crumpled solar sail was being carried away from the ship. A pretty sight, and yet it was sad to lose the bright weightless canvas that had been capturing the solar wind for the Ares for many days. A milestone was now behind them. Very soon, such milestones were going to fly by them at an incredible speed… Their long path through the unknown void was coming to an end, the events were compressing, and time was slowing down in the Martian gravity well.
The entire crew, except for Givens, had gathered. It was time to have dinner after all the work they'd done. Besides, it was only about half an hour until the activation of the deceleration engines.
As the one who was the least tired, Jeubin was handing out food and beverage tubes. Anikeev was watching the readouts with one eye, while Bull and Piccirilli were simply floating in the air and relaxing. Only Kartashov's eyes were glinting feverishly.
"Maybe you should get some rest, Andrei," the Commander suggested after glancing at his countryman.
"There's no time to rest," Kartashov replied. "It's very important… Before we make some irreversible decisions, we need to get in touch with Earth. I have to see my wife immediately."
Bull froze with a tube halfway to his mouth. Jeubin smiled sympathetically and said, "Of course, Andrei, you have a right to call home ahead of schedule. After all, we've been talking to our loved ones more often than you."
"That's not what I mean," Kartashov said wearily. "This is a matter of extreme importance. And it affects us all."
Footnotes
1) Another reference to The Analects by Confucius.