Cosmonaut Alexei Leonov
Fifteen months later
The great ship Leonov was proceeding smoothly under the thrust of the most advanced ion drive the CCCP had yet devised, her carousel rotating at sufficient speed to simulate 0.9g. Her compact, efficient bulk traversed the many, many kilometres (the Russians had long since gone metric, unlike their American counterparts in NASA) to Jupiter and Io.
Now, at last, after some 740 million weary kilometres on their curved trajectory, they were nearly there. Orbital trajectories were never straight lines; Jupiter might be 'only' 596 million kilometres from Earth as the crow flies, but in actual spaceflight things were never that simple. At that, they'd had to use a couple of slingshots to increase their velocity without using too much fuel - which was why, once they reached Jupiter, they would need the aerobraking manoeuvre to slow down.
If all went well, Captain Tanya Kirbuk thought (unaware of the irony - 'if all goes well' was an American sentiment, too), they would arrive in time to save the American vessel Discovery from disaster - not plenty of time, but enough. Her orders had been almost brutally clear. Disobedience was unthinkable.
Not that she ever thought of it, of course. She was a daughter of Mother Russia through and through, loyal to the Revolution. She hoped their American passengers/guests/assistants/advisors would appreciate that. Captain Kirbuk had always favoured a tight ship.
She was, she also hoped, not too uptight.
Kirbuk thought of Ivan, her husband, and Ilyana, their beloved daughter, and allowed a smile to pass her lips.
Dr. Vasali Orlov, busy at a scanner, didn't see it and perhaps would not have believed it if he had. He looked up. "Comrade Captain?" he ventured.
She returned her attention to routine ship's business. "Da?" she inquired.
Orlov frowned. "It is strange, Captain. Our long-range sensors are currently fixed upon Europa. They appear to detect…" he shook his head, hardly able to believe it. Yet the sensors, he knew, were the best his beloved homeland had been able to build, and so surely their readings were correct...however incredible they might be.
"Yes?"
"...life of some kind. Early indications show...chlorophyll."
Kirbuk raised an eyebrow. Such a complex compound surely could not exist on Europa. The moon consisted of little more than rock and ice, and it was both too hot and too cold for any organic substances to exist.
Yet there it was.
She scrutinised the readings carefully. They seemed unlikely, as Dr. Orlov surely knew, and yet…
There was no choice. "Dr. Brailovsky," she requested of Maximilian Brailovsky, "open a channel to Comrade Moisevitch, and another to Victor Milson. We must report this. Do so, and request instructions."
"Da, Comrade Captain," Max acknowledged. He paused. "Captain...could it be? Could there be...life...down there?"
"I do not know," she admitted. "I would send a probe. But we must await orders."
He nodded in acknowledgement and sent the transmission. The answer was surprisingly swift, and came from Comrade Moisevitch himself. They were ordered to investigate remotely via one of the probes designed for such a mission. But there was an extra: they were advised to awaken one of the Americans from his state of hibernation and brief him accordingly. But which one was left "to your discretion, Comrade Captain".
NASA, via Victor Milson, sent a similar request/order. But since this investigation called for neither an engineer nor a computer specialist, they advised that the party to be awakened should be Dr. Heywood Floyd.
For purely pragmatic reasons she agreed with this, and gave Dr. Vladimir Rudenko the appropriate orders.
The awakening was...strange. Flashes of memory passed through his mind. The party before their departure, with Curnow playing host, pretending to be drunk (though they all knew that for him to be drunk for real was, of course, utterly unthinkable). The meeting with their Russian hosts/colleagues.
The secret meeting with Milson and an NSC specialist, where he'd received very specific orders about HAL.
The last, almost frantic sex session with Caroline. She'd begged him to bugger her - almost as if she wanted it to hurt.
But most of all, his last, sad sight of Chris, asleep in his bed. He'd ached to awaken his son and hold him one more time.
Heywood and Caroline's home
Just before his departure
Before he left, Floyd decided to look in on his son. The lad looked so peaceful lying there, lost in his innocent dreams. He was consumed with the desire, the need, to connect with Chris just once more. But then his wife, still naked, arrived at his side.
"Don't you dare," Caroline whispered almost fiercely, seeing him and his longing look. "Don't you dare wake him up. You've already said your goodbyes, Heywood. Let this be a clean break, for his sake."
"I...I'd just like to…"
"I know," she answered tenderly, "but...I know you have to go. I won't argue that now - though I could point out that between two and four it's the mother who's most important to the child. But I guess a crashing spaceship isn't going to wait." Nor am I, she didn't dare say. Perhaps he knew that. She was still relatively young; they'd always planned to have another child. If she had to have a different father between her legs, then so be it. Chris would adjust; kids did that.
2½ years was a long time for a woman to wait, never mind for a child.
"You're right," he sighed. "It's best if I just go. I love you both. I'll be thinking of you."
"I know, Heywood. I love you too." She kissed him. "Go get 'em. Don't wake him."
He didn't.
With a last, longing look, he turned and left for the airport. He had been granted a seat on a commercial jet to Moscow (discreetly escorted by American and Russian security staff); there he would be met by the escort party and taken to the launch site, the Baikonur Cosmodrome, the Russian equivalent of Houston Mission Control. The crew of Leonov and the American personnel would launch up to orbit in Soyuz-2 rockets; the design was old but, Floyd knew, reliable. Like Discovery, Leonov could never land; she was purely a child of space.
But that was then. This was now.
Dammit, the light was too bright. He could almost see it through his eyelids.
There were voices, speaking in an unfamiliar language. Russian? Yes, that was it. He had no idea what they were saying, but they didn't sound concerned, so he wasn't worried. Then he heard the protective canopy being removed, and a feminine but hard voice spoke to him in a thick but intelligible Russian accent:
"Doctor Floyd?"
He didn't respond at first. The voice said again, a little more insistently, "Doctor Floyd."
As he was about to open his eyes another voice advised in a male voice and an equally thick but intelligible accent, "Keep your eyes closed." An oxygen mask was placed upon his face, and the voice - Dr. Rudenko, he now remembered - requested, "Breathe deeply…"
He did.
"Again…"
He breathed again.
"That's good. How do you feel?"
For a moment Floyd was confused by the question. But it was a perfectly natural one to someone awakening from…
From hibernation, he remembered.
"Shaky," he admitted, realising it himself. "Hungry...I think. Can I open my eyes?"
"With caution," the doctor nodded. Slowly his eyes cracked open. The light wasn't as bright as he'd thought. He blinked a few times as his vision came back into focus. He tried and failed to rise. The doctor helped him sit up, still attired in the hibernation webbing. The woman, whom he now recognised as Captain Tanya Kirbuk, looked on impassively. He didn't know her well, but from the first he had tagged her instantly as a no-nonsense type.
He was right.
She barely even knew what nonsense was. She was quite tall, and unusually she had curly blonde hair. He'd once visited Novosibirsk, and had seen that blondes were very rare in Russia. She must be something extraordinary to have risen to a captaincy in the CCCP.
With no intention of frivolity, he asked, "Are we there yet?"
He was expecting her to reply "Almost" or "Yes". But she didn't. "No. Not yet. We are about two days away. Don't worry. There is nothing wrong," she added on seeing his look of surprise and concern. "Your government wanted us to awaken you. Dr. Orlov has encountered some strange data coming from Europa. It may be nothing," she continued dismissively. "He will explain it all to you. There is no need to awaken the others."
Great, Floyd thought, though he knew full well that Leonov only carried so much food, water and air and there was little to spare for mere passengers - which Chandra and Curnow still were, if the ship was still two days away. No, better to let them sleep; they wouldn't be any worse for it.
Outnumbered as he currently was by Russians, he hoped he wouldn't be, either.
Leonov
The Ward Room
An hour later
Things didn't get off to a smooth start. As Floyd, now fed, watered and rested, met with the Russians in the Ward Room, he encountered an attitude which was...strange. He leafed through hard copy and asked Orlov, "You've done a spectral analysis?"
"Of course I have," Orlov answered.
"And?"
"And what?"
Floyd smiled in what he hoped was a friendly way. "Dr, Orlov, I'm not taking a survey. If you've done the analysis, what are the results?"
Orlov looked almost in Kirbuk's direction before replying, "Nothing conclusive."
The American sighed. Pulling teeth would be easier. "Molecular breakdown?"
"If you look carefully at the last page of the data," Orlov told him, "you will find the answers."
Now that, Floyd thought, was a bit more helpful. He complied...and stopped short. It made no sense. "I don't understand this," he said. "If these data are correct, then...there's something down there."
The Russians offered no insight. He looked from one face to the next, then back to Orlov. Cocking his head in doubt, he said, "Can't be correct."
"They are correct," Orlov said simply.
Floyd tried really hard not to look at Kirbuk. Instead he asked, "Is it moving?"
"Yes."
The flat declaration decided it for Floyd. He removed his glasses, put his hands together and said, "Alright. What's going on here?"
"What do you mean?" came the sharp question from Kirbuk.
"Well, I may not be the swiftest guy in the world even when I'm not hung over, but I do seem to remember a process where you people ask me questions and I give you answers, and then I ask you questions and you give me answers, and that's the way we find out things." Attempting humour while recognising that this was a very tough room, he finished, "I think I read that in a manual somewhere."
"Your government wanted us to awaken you when we reported our findings," Kirbuk said flatly. "We did that. You're here to help us reactivate the Discovery and its computer systems because that is United States territory. You are authorised to observe other aspects of our mission." She deliberately did not elaborate as to what those 'other aspects' were. "We have no other obligation."
But you're being obstructive, he wanted to protest. He didn't, because Dr. Rudenko told him, "A lot has happened while you have been asleep."
"It is not our choice," Dr. Orlov added. It seemed as if he - as if all of them - wanted to open up to him and cooperate scientifically in the way he was asking for. But for some reason they couldn't. He had a momentary insight as to why.
Or rather who.
Kirbuk confirmed his guess by beginning, "The problem in Central America is growing worse."
Maintaining his proper scientific outlook, because God knew somebody had to, he remarked, "This looks as if you've detected the presence of chlorophyll."
"The United States is threatening a naval blockade," Kirbuk continued.
"There's nothing but ice down there, so how the hell can there be any chlorophyll?"
"You know and I know that my country cannot allow a blockade."
Why the hell does that matter up here? Even on a straight line, and there's no such damn thing in orbital mechanics, we're nearly 600 million kilometres away! "How fast is it moving?" he asked Orlov.
"We are under instructions -"
"Listen," Floyd interrupted, trying to inject a note of sanity, "just because our governments are acting like asses doesn't mean that we have to. We're supposed to be scientists, not politicians. How fast?" he asked again.
"Dr. Floyd," Kirbuk insisted, her voice rising, "I am also an officer of the Soviet Air Force -"
"How fast?"
"One metre per minute," Orlov told him.
"Don't worry," he placated the irate Kirbuk, "I'm just observing! Towards the Sun?"
"Yes," Orlov confirmed.
"That's incredible," Floyd remarked, and indeed it was. If there was something moving down there, and it had chlorophyll...then, somehow, it had to be a plant. Or something like it.
It was a total mystery as to how such a thing could evolve in such an environment, let alone survive; there was very little carbon dioxide in Europa's atmosphere. It was one of many questions they had.
"We are going to send a probe down," Kirbuk declared.
Oh, I'd never have thought of that, Floyd thought, and said, "Goood!"
The humourless Russians did not comment.
Leonov
The bridge
The bridge was alive with Russians exchanging observations, giving and receiving orders. Floyd understood none of it, but clearly the crew members were doing their jobs. A screen showed a graphic representation of Europa, the probe's target.
Gotta give the Russians points for efficiency, he thought. They'd prepared the probe in record time. As soon as it was ready Dr. Orlov, who was controlling it, sent it on its way via the manipulator arms which had descended from his console. The onboard camera depicted Leonov at first as a check; it was functioning perfectly, so Orlov reoriented the probe and its thrusters sent it towards Europa. The scanner was beeping as the probe proceeded. Its headlights illuminated Leonov.
The camera showed a retreating Leonov until Orlov rotated it, as did a 3D computer graphic. The icy globe of Europa came into view. Max and Floyd watched keenly. Irina Yakunina was taking note of the probe's sensor readings, as was her job. On the Europa graphic, the probe's progress was shown. The beeping of the scanner was slowly increasing in pitch.
The probe passed over the bleak yet beautiful surface, covered in rocks and ice. Orlov manoeuvred it closer. From their point of view the distant sun was just rising over Europa. Irina was examining a rotating 3D graphic of the moon's landscape. The ice was multiply cracked in places, the cracking caused by the gravitational pull of Jupiter and its other Galilean moons. Orlov was relaying his observations in Russian.
Now the probe was close enough for the scanner to report on the moon's chemical composition. "Oxygen," Floyd read. "Carbon." Then a new beeping joined that of the scanner. And there it was, the reading they'd looked for.
"Chlorophyll," Max said excitedly. "Chlorophyll!"
Floyd confirmed, "Chlorophyll. Jesus! Is it organic?" he asked.
"I think so," a fascinated Orlov answered. "I'll bring the probe lower." He did so. The screen showed a panning panoramic view of Europa. Then Floyd saw a crater. In a flash of intuition he wondered, "What's down in that crater?"
Orlov nodded and brought the probe lower still. He was rewarded by the sound of the scanner beeping louder and faster. He and Floyd knew the latter was right - the object (the lifeform?) they were seeking was definitely down there. The probe headed downwards. "There. There," Floyd breathed. The scanner was beeping almost continuously now. As he directed the probe forward the scanner beeped louder than ever, a continuous note that indicated they nearly had it. The headlights swept back and forth.
Then, to the amazement of Floyd and the Leonov crew, the probe's camera showed not the black or white they were expecting, but…
For just over a second, there was a sign of green.
The scanner's tone peaked to maximum.
Then there was a flash. The camera cut out. Telemetry dissolved into static.
All the Control Room's lights went out as main power failed.
What looked like a huge static fireball erupted from Europa's surface and roared past Leonov towards Jupiter.
Gradually their systems came back online. All appeared to be well.
Except for the camera feed - that was now nothing but static. Floyd was in no doubt that whatever was left of the probe was now scattered in tiny pieces all over Europa's surface.
Now what? Floyd wondered.
Captain Kirbuk soon answered this. "All hands to the Ward Room, please."
They went. Captain Kirbuk did not give orders which were to be disobeyed or ignored.
Leonov
The Ward Room
Shortly after
"Let me get this straight," Floyd said, "there's no telemetry?"
"It's all gone," Dr. Alexander Kovalev said defeatedly.
"What about the backup recordings?" Orlov asked.
"Nothing. Everything was erased."
"There was an electrostatic build-up of some kind," Max informed them. "We'll probably find more of it as we get closer to Io. It's happened before."
But Orlov, a true scientist at heart, could not and did not let this go. "There was something down there," he insisted. "It was organic. There was life!"
"You don't know that," Max objected.
"I believe that!"
"What are you suggesting we do?" Kirbuk wondered.
"We should send another probe," Orlov declared.
"We are getting farther away from Europa; it would be difficult," she pointed out.
"Can we slow down?"
"No, we don't have the fuel." She was certain of that. Their approach to Io was being conducted using a minimum of fuel, painstakingly calculated; Leonov would be the first manned spacecraft to skim a planet's atmosphere in order to slow down. To say this was risky was putting it mildly.
"How do we know that the same thing won't happen again?" Dr. Kovalev asked fervently.
"Electrostatic build-ups don't occur that often," Max attempted to dismiss it.
"It wasn't any build-up," Floyd told them sourly, "electrostatic or any other kind."
That silenced them. Kirbuk was the first to ask, "Oh, really, Dr. Floyd? And just what do you think it was?"
"Isn't it obvious? A warning," Floyd said. The room went really quiet. "Oh, there's something down there alright. We all saw it. We read the data, we know it's there. But suppose, just suppose, that it had something to do with the Monolith.
"Now before you get that look on your face, just listen to me for a minute. We've been sending probes out here since the '70s. So have you guys. But none of us have ever encountered even the slightest signs of chlorophyll on any of Jupiter's moons, never, and we certainly were close enough, weren't we? Eleven years ago, the Monolith was found on the Moon, and sent out its signal - we think now it was just to say 'Hey, they found me', and to attract our attention. Discovery was sent up, got here in 2001 and everything went whacko, you catching my drift?
"So here we are, nine years later, trying to figure out what the hell happened and, and what the Monolith is all about. And guess what we discover along the way? The possibility of life of some kind, where it never existed before. And we suffer a malfunction which wipes our recordings.
"Funny thing, though: the only recordings which were wiped were those which involved Europa. A pretty selective 'malfunction', wouldn't you say? If it really was a natural phenomenon it should've wiped everything. Come to think of it, how come the backups went, too? A very thorough malfunction, da?
"No. I don't think it's electrostatic anything. I think something wants us to stay away from Europa. And, Captain, speaking now not as a guest but as the leader of the American contingent, I don't believe we should ignore this warning. Consider: all our electrical power went off for a couple of seconds. I agree it certainly looked like an electrostatic effect. But what would've happened if we'd done more than just look at...at whatever the hell it was? Taken a sample, say? Would we have lost all power permanently?
"I think we could have. I think we still could, or worse. At any time. I don't think we're calling the shots here. I think we are dealing with a power, a force, an entity, call it what you will, that has the power to extinguish us if we get out of hand. I believe sending another probe would show just that. So as much as it grates against my scientific soul, Captain, I believe our lives are far more important than getting answers. Whatever is happening on Europa, we should leave it alone."
For a long moment Kirbuk did not reply. When she did her voice was low, but firm. "Dr. Floyd, you and your colleagues are aboard Leonov purely in an advisory capacity. You are here to assist us." Her look was one of irony. "Though I confess your role is somewhat unclear. Your colleagues each have a clearly defined goal: to reactivate the Discovery and to revive the HAL 9000. Yours, however…" she trailed off.
"Yes, we are here to assist, Captain, and we will, to the best of our ability," Floyd promised sincerely. "I'm an...observer. Purely an advisor. It is in the interests of advising you that I strongly advise you to keep us away from Europa. They haven't interfered with us so far, so I presume our rescue of Discovery is irrelevant to them. Probably," he mused ironically, "it's beneath their notice. But our presence will matter to them if we investigate Europa - which is why I recommend that we do not."
Everyone present was a scientist of one sort or another. For them simply to abandon a line of research was abhorrent, unthinkable - under normal circumstances.
But right now they were nearly 600 million kilometres from Earth; their situation was anything but normal. Scientific interest was one thing, but their lives were quite another. They had to be alive in order to report their discoveries; posthumous analyses made by their grieving colleagues were completely unacceptable.
Kirbuk therefore nodded slowly. "I agree, Dr. Floyd. I am the Captain. As such, I decide when and how which risks should and should not be taken. This matter falls squarely into the category 'too risky'. As Captain I cannot and will not sanction it. My first priority is the safety of my crew." She shook her head. "Perhaps we might investigate Europa when we are en route back to Earth. Or perhaps they, whoever they are, could still reach us. It is all too likely that we will not be beyond their reach. Their technology is clearly far superior to ours, as is evidenced by the Monoliths."
"I agree," Floyd concurred. "Certainly we can't build anything with such exquisite precision. Nor can we build things that can last for four million years, which is the estimated age of T.M.A.-1, the small monolith we brought back from the Moon." He remembered T.M.A.-1, and his words with Michaels and Halvorsen...
Moonbus 5
Lunar surface, approaching Tycho Crater
Saturday 13th February, 1999
"You seen these yet?" Michaels held up hard copy.
'Have a look," Halvorsen invited Floyd.
"Here's what started the whole thing," Michaels said.
"Oh, yeah," Floyd nodded, seeing the photographs.
"When we first found it," Halvorsen explained as Floyd perused the long-range photos, where T.M.A-1's position was marked, "we thought it might be an outcrop of magnetic rock, but all the geological evidence was against it. And not even a big nickel-iron meteorite could produce a field as intense as this," he showed Floyd a magnetic field line plot. It reminded him of diagrams he'd seen of the space-time continuum distorted by the presence of a black hole. "So we decided to have a look."
"We thought it might be the upper part of some buried structure," Michaels related, "so we excavated out on all sides, but unfortunately we didn't find anything else."
"And what's more, the evidence seems pretty conclusive that it hasn't been covered up by natural erosion or other forces," Halvorsen told him as they ate their sandwiches, "it seems to have been deliberately buried."
"Deliberately buried," Floyd repeated, bemused. There was a pause.
"Well, how about a little coffee?" Michaels suggested, breaking the tension.
"Oh, great," Floyd approved.
"Yeah, good idea," Halvorsen approved, and Michaels went for'ard to obtain the flask.
"I don't suppose you have any idea what the damn thing is," Floyd quipped.
Halvorsen laughed. "I wish to hell we did. No, the only thing we're sure of is that it was buried four million years ago."
"Well, I must say: you guys have certainly come up with something," Floyd pronounced.
With an effort Floyd returned to the reality of 2010.
"As long as we do not interfere with whatever they are doing, we are safe," Kirbuk continued. "But investigating Europa would seem to be defined as interference. Therefore, in my judgement...we will not send another probe," she decided with finality. "Instead, we will continue with our mission. Dr. Floyd, your colleagues will be revived tomorrow. Please be ready to report to the Medical Bay."
"Got it," Floyd nodded, with a look of respect for her hard sense. She inclined her head to acknowledge him.
Perhaps, he thought, her Russian glacier was starting to melt a little.
Yeah. And the Premier and the President are gonna shake hands live on CNN. I'm so sure.
(He wasn't to know, of course, that soon they would do just that, and not just on CNN.)
