Leonov

As Discovery is still spinning

"This is Milson, switching to Key 2 in five seconds...mark.

"I wish I could bring you better news. It's getting worse here. The President addressed a session of Congress the other day - he said he wasn't gonna back down on the blockade. I don't know which was scarier: the speech, or the Congress cheering him.

"He evoked Lincoln," Milson went on grimly. "Whenever a President's gonna get us into serious trouble, they always use Lincoln. I honestly don't know if we're gonna be at war or not. It's terrifying to hope that the Russians are less crazy than we are when they are clearly crazy. Right now I think you're in a safer place than we are. I just hope that there is an Earth to return to.

"I heard about the spoiled food in Discovery's galley. I'm glad that's all it was."


As Curnow and Max worked steadily, the carousel began spinning again. For a while Discovery executed a complex series of twisting manoeuvres in place, until finally the spin was successfully mopped up and stopped. Once again, Discovery was ready for orbital manoeuvres.

And none too soon; they'd had less than five hours to spare before she would have been dragged inexorably to destruction on the turbulent surface of Io.


"I'm also glad that you got the ship under control. Curnow is a capable man."

Now Curnow and Max were using their torches to illuminate the bridge. The next stage, which was quickly carried out, was to reroute auxiliary power, reactivating the lights so he and Max could see what they were doing.

"No-one knows those systems better than he does. You made a damn good choice there. It's clear, too, that he and Dr. Brailovsky make a pretty good team. Then again, they've got things in common - both engineers, and both with a wacky sense of humour," he smiled. "It's a good sign that there was reserve power, maybe the rest of the circuitry will work.

"We have nothing new on the Monolith. Our data confirm yours: it's not moving."


Soon Curnow and Max, adjusting controls, were ready, and signalled Leonov. In response her main drive ignited briefly, and Curnow followed suit with Discovery.

With that, she was safe. The new orbit was stable, far higher...and well outside the magnetic flux lines. No more eddy currents would interfere with her.


"Floyd to Milson: my news is a little better than yours. Discovery has been partially revived. We don't know yet how much damage has been done, or if we'll be able to bring her back home. Most of that is up to HAL.

"The drive system could be operated manually…"


As he said it, two Leonov crew members were deploying the walkway built into her hull, extending it to Discovery's emergency airlock and anchoring it there. Though Curnow had tried his best to convince Kirbuk that it was safe to dock, she had decided not to use the Leonov's docking ring as was originally planned.

"Then what the hell are we gonna do instead?" Curnow asked, baffled.

Max grinned and slapped him on the back. "This is one of many things the designers took into account, tovarishch," he said merrily. "Leonov has a walkway built into her. We'll position her alongside and link up to Discovery's emergency airlock. In an emergency, or in the," he looked apologetically at Kirbuk, "unlikely event she loses control, the walkway is expendable. Leonov, of course, is not. Is acceptable, Captain?"

She nodded slowly. "Da. You are cleared to deploy the walkway, gentlemen. And…" she gave them a rare smile, "well done, my friends."

"Nice to be appreciated," Curnow remarked, smiling. The walkway was easy to use, so it didn't take them long to deploy it. The two very different ships were now united. For the first time since 1973 an American and a Russian craft were linked in a common goal.

Hopefully their joint mission would be as successful as the Soyuz-Skylab mission had been. Certainly it was as unprecedented.


"...so we were able to pull Discovery away from her decaying orbit around Io. I must say, the farther away I get from Io, the happier I am. It's a violent moon, even for Jupiter. Europa, for all its cold grey, is a lot more comforting. I tell you, Victor, there's some kind of new life down there, trying to get through all that ice.

"We are 10,000 kilometres away from the Monolith. I can't see it yet, except...I know it's there. I also think it knows we're here.

"It's time to unleash Chandra," Floyd went on, even as Chandra was making his way to Discovery via the walkway. "We'll see if our computer brain surgeon and psychiatrist can put HAL back together again. To tell you the truth, I don't know if HAL is homicidal, suicidal, neurotic, psychotic...or just plain broken. We'll have to wait and see what Chandra uncovers.

"But I have no idea what'll happen then."


Discovery, Main Computer Bay

Shortly after

In zero gravity, Chandra floated easily towards the primary computer panel. The perspex columns of HAL's primary intellect were still standing as Bowman had left them after lobotomising the computer in a desperate effort to survive. He regarded the fish-eye camera briefly, turned back to the panel and pushed two columns down. Smoothly they slid back into place, activating the most basic sections of HAL's intellect. Chandra turned to the keyboard and pressed a function key.

"This," he began, "is initial voice-logic reconstruction test number one." He had already been hard at work repairing the inadvertent but necessary damage Bowman had done. "Diagnostics on voice recognition and speech synthesis centres have been completed; at this level all functions appear normal."

He began typing basic English phonemes, as well as speaking them. "Hello...doctor...name...continue...yesterday…" he thought briefly, and finished with "...tomorrow."

The speaker began reciting the words in a very, very basic synthesis of speech:

"HELLO DOCTOR NAME CONTINUE YESTERDAY TOMORROW."

It was barely intelligible, but the recursive nature of the software would render successive deliveries closer to the rich, cultured tone of the original. He pushed two more columns back into place and pressed Return to run the program again.

It repeated, "Hello. Doctor. Name. Continue. Yesterday. Tomorrow."

That was better, but still a long way from perfect, still sounding very artificial. He returned another two columns to their place and ran it again.

"Hello. Doctor. Name. Continue. Yesterday. Tomorrow."

Now, he thought, it was starting to sound like HAL. Early days yet, though. Another two columns were pushed back into place.

Then, as he pressed the key again, the program started repeating the words too rapidly for him to distinguish them as the software raced through its development, the words overwriting themselves on the screen. He allowed it to continue for a few seconds more and then terminated the program. He pushed the final four columns; they slid into place with a satisfying click as smoothly as the others had.

With bated breath, he pressed Return once more. The result was gratifying.

"Good morning, Doctor Chandra. This is HAL. I'm ready for my first test."

There was still a way to go yet. But one thing was certain:

After nine years of sleep, HAL was awake once more.

Unable to help himself, Chandra reached out to the camera...and patted it reassuringly, once, twice.

Now, he thought with satisfaction, the real work could begin.


Leonov

Dr. Floyd's quarters

"What the hell's this?" Curnow wondered, examining the gizmo Floyd had handed him.

It was time for him to learn about Floyd's secret orders, Floyd knew, now that HAL was back online and under the tender care of Dr. Chandra, who would hopefully restore him to full operating capacity. "I want you to do me a favour." He indicated a section of the schematic he and Curnow were looking at. "This line here," Floyd indicated it, "this is the main power supply to the control bay circuits, right?"

"Well, most of 'em, yeah," Curnow agreed, looking.

"What other ones are there?"

"Well, all the environment circuits are fed to this one here," he too indicated the schematic.

"Yeah, yeah, but this is the one that feeds into HAL, right?"

"Yeah…"

Curnow was starting to get a feeling about this. He wasn't wrong; his engineering intuition was serving him well.

"All right. I want you to install this little baby right about there," Floyd pointed, "right inside the cable trunk. Put it where no-one can find it without a deliberate search."

Curnow looked at Floyd's deadly earnest expression and smiled slowly. "No shit?"

"No shit," Floyd confirmed.

"Who makes this stuff, the NSC?"

"Classified," Floyd told him, though he was correct.

Curnow looked over the gadget again. "Hey, this is pretty neat," he noted approvingly, "a non-conducting blade, so there won't be any embarrassing short circuits when you trigger it...where's your remote control?"

"If I trigger it," Floyd corrected. "The control's in my compartment. The red calculator, you've seen it."

"Oh, yeah."

"Put in nine 9s, take the square root and press Integer. That's all. In case of an emergency even you can do it."

"What kind of emergency?" Curnow asked.

"Well, if I knew, I wouldn't need that stupid thing, would I?" Floyd retorted.

"Chandra would have kittens if he found out," Curnow observed.

"But he's not gonna find out. Is he?"

"Well, not from me," Curnow swore. "They can tear off my fingernails, I won't talk."

"Install it tonight, when he's asleep," Floyd instructed, then added, "if he ever does sleep."

"How can you tell?" Curnow joked.

It was duly installed, carefully concealed, and Floyd and Curnow felt a lot more secure, as did Kirbuk when they told her in confidence.

But it never occurred to any of them that Chandra had already considered such a possible scenario...


Captain Kirbuk's quarters

Shortly after

"Dr. Floyd," Kirbuk acknowledged, looking up from her book, Anna Karenina. "Is important?"

"I'd say so," Floyd nodded. "We've taken a, um, little precaution regarding HAL."

Her eyebrow rose. "Oh?"

He nodded. "It is just a precaution, but without it neither the NSC nor the Kremlin would give me final clearance for the joint mission." He wasn't sure if he should admit that, but it was true. "It's a cutout which I asked Dr. Curnow to place onto HAL's primary power feed. So I can cut him off with a second's notice or less. My remote control is the little red calculator I have."

"I see." She exhaled. "A code? How does it work?" He explained. "Simple and neat. Good. Does...is Dr. Chandra aware of this?"

"No," Floyd answered grimly, "and I don't plan to tell him. He's very protective of HAL, thinks of him almost as his child."

"Perhaps he is," Kirbuk remarked philosophically.

"And like any parent he puts his kid first. So he wouldn't take it well...to put it mildly. But by design, HAL controls all of the Discovery's primary systems, so once he's revived he'll have full control of the ship. If he proves untrustworthy...well, there have already been four casualties, back in '01. Let's not risk any more."

"Doctor," Kirbuk said carefully, "is possible that HAL should not have such broad control. There is no such danger for Leonov, since all our computers, while powerful, are not autonomous." She looked wry. "Even if we could create such a computer, we would not. As the Andorian assistant said in Memory Prime, What I don't understand iss why you humanss insist on building thinking machines that have no 'off' switches. Perhaps H'rar had a point."

"Yeah, but it solves more problems than it creates," Floyd replied...while wondering how the hell a Russian Soviet Air Force officer had read a Star Trek novel (in fact she and her family had visited the States for a weekend, and she'd read it in a library out of curiosity). "No-one ever imagined HAL going crazy and killing the crew...if he did go crazy. To tell you the truth, even Chandra isn't really sure of what happened. That's why he's here: to find out."

She nodded slowly. "I understand. Thank you for telling me, Doctor."

Floyd shrugged. "You're the Captain. You need to know. But you're welcome." He turned to leave.

"Dr. Floyd…"

He turned back, curious. Kirbuk looked uncomfortable. "Off the record...I do not entirely agree with my country's policies. I will obey, to be sure. As a loyal Soviet citizen, I must. But...I have my doubts."

"Wanna know something? As an American equally loyal to his country...so do I," Floyd confided grimly.


Portland, Maine, Earth

Same time, 12:17 a.m. EST

Back on Earth, things were going from bad to worse.

One American said sourly, "It's like that deleted scene in The Abyss, where a woman's discussing the possible war and asking, 'What can we do? What can anyone do?' That's how we feel right now. The military are supposed to do what the civilians tell 'em to do, but right now the man in the street is totally helpless, he's not calling the shots here. Those civilians who are calling the shots are Congressmen and a President who's scared shitless. An' I gotta admit...so am I."

The newscaster had silently agreed, but like him she too felt helpless.

Elaine Travers, CNN, went out into her back yard and looked up into the night sky, where Jupiter showed as a bright star. She wondered fleetingly if the crews of Discovery and Leonov could somehow find an answer.

She truly hoped so.

Six months ago she had, to her brief joy, tested pregnant by her husband Bill. But she didn't want her child growing up in a world devastated by nuclear war, as Kyle Reese had in The Terminator.

Elaine was just 23, her husband only 32, spot on by the Little Women anti-creepiness rule. They'd met six years ago, falling in love and marrying the following year (when they weren't spot on, but they loved each other, so who the hell cared?). Six months ago, when everything was unsettled but fairly stable, they'd decided they wanted a kid, so she'd thrown the Pill away and they'd fucked like rabbits for three days solid, breaking only for pizza, peeing and the few beers she'd permitted herself before swearing off them for the putative baby's sake.

And then, shortly after she'd tested positive and they'd thrown a party, the Honduras thing had started.

She touched her belly, which cradled her growing baby (to her unspoken joy it was a girl), and prayed once more.

Surely someone had an answer.

Surely…

She couldn't help crying.


Leonov and Discovery

On final approach to the Monolith

"Dear Caroline, this is finally it. After nine years and hundreds of millions of miles, we are about to come face-to-face with the Monolith. The last human being who did that disappeared. Something truly amazing is going on out here, and I really believe this black giant is controlling it all. We have so much to ask. I have the feeling the answers are bigger than the questions."

As Leonov and Discovery finished manoeuvring with a last brief flash from their main drives, Kirbuk looked keenly outside.

Clearly visible even at this distance, the Monolith hung at L5. Black, perfect and utterly inscrutable.

Floyd couldn't help but feel it was looking back at them.

What, he wondered, is it thinking?

Can a 2-kilometre black slab think?

What the hell is that thing? Why is it here?

And...what's it doing?

He would have been startled to know that it was not, in fact, thinking at all. It would listen for instructions from its far distant controllers, and it would obey them to the letter.

But in truth, it had less volition than HAL did.


The Ward Room

"Is there any information stored in HAL about the Monolith?" Kirbuk asked.

"No," Floyd answered simply. "HAL was disconnected before the Discovery encountered it. There's nothing in the ship's logs or the automatic recording systems after that. Whatever secrets Bowman had, he...took with him."

"It's the proportions," Orlov said, "one by four by nine. They are perfect, even when carried for six decimal places."

"The small one on the Moon? We encountered exactly the same proportions; they hold all the way down to atomic level...and maybe beyond. One, four, nine, the squares of 1, 2, 3 - we spent years trying to attach some cosmic significance to that, and came up with nothing," Floyd informed them. "All analyses have shown nothing. Zip. Nada."

Kirbuk took a breath and looked determined. "We can speculate all we want, it will not do us any good. If for some reason or other it is resisting our instruments, then we must make a closer inspection. I will send Max down with a pod."

Max looked pleased at that. Floyd did not. "I wouldn't do that."

She leaned forward. "Oh, really? You wouldn't?"

"That's right, I wouldn't. That's not a pile of junk out there. We don't know what the hell it is, except that it's...very large...and seems to have some purpose. If you want to send a pod down, fine, but send an unmanned one."

Kirbuk gazed levelly at him. "I don't agree."

"I would like to go," Max contributed.

"Dumb," Curnow returned. In working together to restore Discovery's systems the two had established an easy working relationship; they made an excellent team.

"Hey, piece of pie," Max said easily.

"Cake," Curnow corrected. "Piece of cake."

"Cake, yes."

"Dumb! That's what it is!"

"Tell me, Dr. Floyd," Kirbuk almost taunted, "what has happened to American bravery?"

"It's alive and well, thank you very much," Floyd snapped. "What's happened to Russian common sense?"

But Kirbuk did not budge. "Max will take the pod," she pronounced with finality, settling back. She glanced at Max, who jauntily doffed his cap to her. She rewarded him with a rare smile.

And that seemed to be that.


Leonov

The Pod Bay

As they finished their preparations, Curnow taking extra care even beyond his usual thorough habits - this, after all, was his friend they were talking about - and requested of him, "Just try not to get it mad, alright?"

"How do you get it mad?" Max smiled.

Curnow shook his head. "Dumb."

Max leaned forward and said, "Easy as cake, huh?"

Curnow was sure that this time Max was getting the idiom wrong deliberately. Still, he corrected, "Pie. Easy as pie."

As the still-smiling Max sealed his suit and pressurised it, Curnow closed the pod on him. He could still see Max through the porthole. As the pod turned slowly towards the airlock and the inner door was opened, he saluted Max with his left hand, then stood and watched. The pod was rolled into the airlock and the door sealed. The airlock depressurised and Max launched the pod. Two quick thrusts set him on his course.

If the Monolith could see him with whatever extraordinary senses it had, he was on his way.

He had no way of knowing the Monolith neither knew nor cared about his presence.


The bridge

Captain Kirbuk and others were monitoring; the two were exchanging progress and ranging information in Russian. Dr. Rudenko noted Max's life signs; his pulse and respiration were a little high, but that was to be expected. He was excited to be exploring the unknown.

They all were, really.

A monitor showed Leonov rapidly retreating. It replaced her with a plain rectangle, its proportions four by nine.

The largest face of the Monolith.

Max reported, "I have no indication here. No magnetic field. Nothing." The radar display showed his progress, two-ninths along the length of the thing. "I am having difficulty gauging distance. Radar signals are not bouncing back." Kirbuk and Max exchanged further information.

Curnow was looking through a telescope and remarking, "That pod looks awful small."

"Good," Floyd opined, "That means there's nothing threatening about it."

There was a further exchange.

Floyd suggested, "Maybe Max should extend the pod's arms, with the hands out."

"Are you serious?" Orlov asked.

"Yes." He thought it might look like a friendly gesture.

Until Curnow doubted, "I don't know about you, but that thing with its claws in the air would scare the piss outa me."

The older man pictured it. Mmm, yeah, the pod might look scary to the intelligence. "Maybe you're right."

He too had no idea the Monolith could feel nothing. Fear, anger, hate...it was incapable of all.

Love, too. The Monolith knew nothing of human emotion.

Kirbuk and Max continued exchanging information. Floyd understood only one word, metrov, meaning 'metres'. He realised Max was getting closer.


"Stop there!" he commanded Max. "Just pause. Let it know you're not going to crash into it."

Though the American had no authority to give orders, the caution made sense to Max, and so he complied. The pod hung in space, unmoving.

Just like the Monolith.

"There is no reflectivity," Max reported. "I can't see any surface features. Is totally smooth."

For an object which had been there (so they believed, though no-one really knew) for four million years, that was incredible. This part of space was awash with gas, dust, tiny particles. A human ship would gradually be shredded in only a few years. Yet the Monolith remained as perfect as the day it was -

Built? Created? Magically conjured up? Who knew?


"Pass over its length once," Orlov instructed. Max complied, triggering the pod's thrusters. He was slowly but surely coming closer to the Monolith. Still it did not react.

Unknown to him, it was preparing for an event.


The pod had by now travelled almost halfway along the Monolith's length. Kirbuk kept track, she and Max speaking to each other in rapid Russian.

The pod's skids were now just a few metres above the surface.

And then…

Max was surprised to see some activity. Flashes of light were travelling from the edges of the Monolith to the centre. He took a few seconds to stare at them in wonder.

A few seconds too long.

He was almost to the Monolith's far edge now. But the flashes were coalescing, more resembling a star cluster now.

It expanded and started to glow brightly.


As it did, Leonov detected and displayed it, and sounded an urgent alarm.

"Oh my God," Curnow breathed in horror.


The glow intensified. A spot of light was now glowing bright at the exact centre of the long face of the Monolith.

"Max, get the hell outa there!" Curnow ordered. He didn't know what was happening, no-one did or could, but he was willing to bet Max would be a hell of a lot safer observing it from a distance.


Discretion being the better part of valour, and since he was not in fact reckless, Max had discreetly decided to make a break for Leonov, angling the pod upwards. Three or four seconds might, just possibly might, have made the difference.

But he was too late. Far, far too late.

The Monolith produced a nova-bright burst of blue-white light, blinding Max. In his last few moments, he was utterly helpless.


"MAX!" Curnow yelled uselessly.

A whirlwind of energy had formed, twisting in space into and through dimensions they could never see and had never even imagined. The pod was caught in its wake and tumbled off into space before its total destruction.

The Monolith never saw it go, and wouldn't have cared if it had. This event was scheduled for the Star Gate, and would have occurred regardless. The truth was that Max and the pod had simply suffered an accident.

Alas, a fatal one.

As the Leonov crew and Floyd watched in horror, the energy effect built to a climax.

It was time.

The Star Gate opened. The Star Gate closed.

An incredibly bright bolt of energy exploded out of the Monolith and raced away past Leonov and Discovery with incredible speed.

They didn't know it, but Earth was about to be visited.


"Max, you bastard, do you hear me?! Answer me! MAX!" Curnow screamed frantically over the strident alert.

But there was no reply. Nor would there ever be again.

Leonov's scanners showed no sign of the pod. It was gone, and poor Max with it.

Only the Monolith remained.

Orlov closed his eyes. Rest in peace, brave tovarishch.

Floyd looked down with regret. He'd been afraid something might happen, but not this. He hadn't known Max well, but he'd liked him. His jovial attitude had been a stark but welcome contrast to the dour faces of the others.

Now they had a reason to be dour.

Kirbuk looked away in despair, near tears, and put one hand to her face. Even now, she did not wish her crew to see her cry.

Curnow was left staring with incomprehension and shock at the telescope.


And the bolt of energy headed for Earth.

It carried an entity who had business there.

With the human part of his memory, he knew there were two loose ends.