UCLA Medical Centre, Los Angeles
Same time
The doctor was briskly professional, reading from a card. "We have here Mrs. Jessie Bowman, age 77. She's the mother of the astronaut who died. She's been in the nursing home for six months. Four weeks ago she collapsed in her room. She was comatose when we got to her. She was worked up and found to have suffered a massive CVA involving the left parietal and frontal lobes. The CAT scan showed a massive bleed.
"She has remained comatose since her admission and is unable to have spontaneous respiration. There is no response to stimuli. She has had two episodes of pneumonia and is febrile."
"What's her temperature?" another doctor asked.
"39.5," the first doctor replied. "We've been giving her intravenous antibiotics for ten days."
"Any change?"
The first doctor shook his head.
"Physical therapy?"
"Range of motion four times a day, and she's turned every thirty minutes. That's about it."
"Thank you."
There was nothing more to do now but monitor her readings and wait. Though it was likely Mrs. Bowman had come to UCLA to die, there was always that chance of recovery; other patients far more ill had pulled through.
The duty nurse was reading Time while the PA said, "Dr. Detchum, Dr. Detchum, 35." The monitors were beeping constantly, watching over several long-term patients in the ICU including Mrs. Bowman. "Dr. Craig, Dr. Craig, room 5. Dr. Craig, room 5, please."
In each patient's room nothing stirred; they were all comatose, unreachable by conventional means.
But there was someone there who had means which were far from conventional.
Unseen by the young, pretty nurse, Jessie Bowman sat up.
She had no idea how it was possible, nor did she care. To her joy, her beloved son, gone these many years, was here, with her. David was carrying out the chore he'd always hated at 12, but which his mother had loved: brushing her hair.
The brush floated in mid-air, apparently unsupported, brushing her flowing white locks as she trembled with joy.
When he was younger David Bowman had always detested this duty. Now, though, it was the last thing he, as the entity he now was, could do for her, to give her the closure she had desperately sought since 2001. He knew she would not survive this.
He also knew her end would be peaceful. As her son, it was his duty to oversee it.
Whatever else he was, whatever he had become, he was still her son.
And she still loved him.
"Dr. Craig, room 5, please."
Abruptly the nurse was jolted out of her reverie by an alert signal. She knew immediately that Mrs. Bowman had gone into cardiac arrest. She threw down the magazine, the front cover of which depicted the President and the Premier, and asked the dread question: WAR?
Knowing that every second counted, she hurried into Jessie's room. She glanced up at the monitor by her bedside, which told the grim story, then looked down at the patient, intending to try CPR - then she did a double take.
The old lady was smiling in death - and clutching a hairbrush which the nurse knew had been on the other side of the room.
And with that, the final loose end was tied up.
NOW WE CAN CONTINUE.
Leonov
Shortly after
First the instruction was given in Russian, then in English. "All hands to the Ward Room. All hands to the Ward Room, please."
There, Moisevitch and Milson appeared on two separate screens. The former spoke in Russian, the latter in English. "This is a most difficult announcement," Milson began. "As you know, things have not been going well back home. Well, it's gotten worse, a lot worse. Yesterday a Soviet destroyer challenged the blockade. Several warning shots were fired across her bow. She did not respond. A second volley was fired; there still was no response. None.
"The nuclear destroyer U.S.S. Cunningham launched two of her Falcon missiles. Both struck the Soviet vessel amidship. She broke in two and sunk. 800 of her crew were lost.
"This morning, an American surveillance satellite was struck by a Soviet laser fired from the Sergei Kirov space station. The American satellite was destroyed.
"The United States has broken off diplomatic relations with Russia. All ambassadors have been recalled. The Soviet ambassador has been expelled along with his entire staff. All American air defence and satellite defence forces are on full alert. Premier Ulonova made a televised address and said that technically a state of war exists between our two countries.
"All American personnel are ordered to leave Soviet territory immediately or they will be placed under arrest. All Russian personnel are similarly ordered to evacuate American territory. As a result, by direct Presidential order, the three of you must leave the Leonov. No Russian citizen is allowed to remain on or allowed to enter the Discovery. This order is effective immediately.
"The launch window for re-entry is 28 days. The Discovery has enough fuel for a low-consumption trajectory. HAL appears to be reactivated and is functioning well enough to operate the onboard systems. The Leonov has enough fuel for a low-consumption trajectory that will arrive 12 months earlier. The launch windows are critical for both spacecraft.
"Only communications of an emergency distress nature are allowed between the Leonov and Discovery. I know you people are caught in the middle of this. In a sense, we all are. I wish there was something I could do. The only thing left for us is to pray. Pray for the safety of our families, for our countries, for our planet. May God forgive us, and protect us.
"This is Victor Milson, signing off...maybe for the last time. Over and out."
Both crews were stunned, and yet the news came as little surprise; international tensions had been rising for over a year.
So that was it, Floyd thought. Essentially the mission was over - it couldn't be completed with a divided crew. Chandra pointed this out. So did Curnow, a lot less politely. But he held up a hand. "Gentlemen, I agree with everything you've said. But this is Captain Kirbuk's ship; we are essentially guests here. If her orders are to turf us out, we'll go. But -" he turned to Kirbuk, who looked as upset as he felt. "Captain, we'll leave; that's not in question. But I need to know: do you agree that this is crazy?"
She looked near tears. "Da. It is crazy. But...please, understand...I have my orders. I...I cannot disobey. I love my country, for all its faults. I have served her loyally all my life. I cannot abandon that now. I am sorry. You must leave."
Floyd nodded in true respect. It wasn't a rash decision on her part. She was as loyal to her country as he was to his.
For all its faults.
"Dr. Curnow, Dr. Chandra: pack up whatever you need to. We're returning to Discovery."
"Goddammit, this is insane!" Curnow protested vociferously.
"I know," Floyd nodded grimly, "we all do. Yeah, the people who gave us our orders don't know what they're doing. But...they are our orders." He looked much more brisk than he felt. "We're outa here."
Shortly the walkway between Leonov and Discovery was jettisoned, floating freely away.
Curnow mooched around the cargo bays. Chandra reviewed HAL's flawless programming.
And Floyd took the watch on Discovery's bridge.
"HAL," he requested, "give me a status report, please."
"Just one moment, please," HAL requested in turn. "I'm sorry for the delay. My voice recognition circuits are not completely restored, although as you can see, they are improving. All systems are functional. There is a small pressure leak in the aft heating unit. It is nothing serious. I can compensate for it by using the redundant unit."
"Thank you," Floyd nodded. Doubtless the unit would require a manual overhaul; Curnow could handle that.
If he could be assed.
Floyd couldn't blame him for his attitude. It didn't seem important. They really had nothing to do until their launch window came up, then they would enter hibernation and leave everything to HAL, as he had been designed for.
Goddammit.
"Dr. Floyd?"
"Yes?"
"Would you like to play a game of chess? I play very well."
"I'm sure you do," Floyd returned politely. "No, thank you."
There was a pause.
"The current situation is...unfortunate," HAL ventured.
"Mmm. But there's nothing we can do about it."
"Which does not alter the facts," HAL pointed out.
"Mmm," Floyd said again.
Then things changed irrevocably.
"Dr. Floyd?"
"What is it, HAL?"
"There is a message for you."
"Who's calling?"
"There is no identification," HAL told him.
Floyd frowned. His scheduled message from Milson wasn't due for an hour yet - no, scratch that, there wouldn't be a message now. "What's the message?"
"Message as follows: It is dangerous to remain here. You must leave within two days."
His frown deepened. "What?"
"Do you want me to repeat the message, Dr. Floyd?" HAL asked.
"Who recorded it?"
HAL surprised him with the statement: "This is not a recording."
"Who's sending it?"
"There is no identification," HAL said again.
"I don't understand," Floyd complained.
"Neither do I."
"Is this message by voice or keyboard?"
"I don't know," HAL admitted.
"My response is: we don't have enough fuel for an early departure."
"The answer is: I am aware of this fact. Nevertheless, you must leave within two days."
"HAL," Floyd asked, irritated, "who the hell is sending this?"
"I'm sorry, Dr. Floyd, I don't know."
"Well, tell whoever it is that I can't take any of this seriously unless I know who I'm talking to."
"Dr. Floyd?"
"Yes?"
"The response is: I was David Bowman."
That chilled him at first. Bowman was talking to him? Bowman was missing presumed dead. And what did he/it mean, 'I was David Bowman'?
"Do you want me to repeat the last response?"
"No," Floyd almost smiled as a possible explanation occurred to him, "no. Tell Curnow that this is no time for jokes."
"Dr. Curnow is not sending the message," HAL informed him. "He is in Access Way Two."
Well, there's obviously some practical joker around, he tried to tell himself. But he kept everything rational by saying, "Well, tell whoever it is that I can't accept that identification without proof."
"The response is: I understand. It is important that you believe me. Look behind you."
Floyd was even more chilled - almost frightened. Slowly he looked back, not knowing what he would see.
What he did see was entirely unexpected, almost impossible.
David Bowman.
He was dressed in a standard Discovery-issue spacesuit without a helmet. He looked exactly as Floyd remembered him.
Bowman nodded. Yes, he seemed to be saying silently, it's me.
He began walking away towards the Pod Bay. Floyd hurriedly unfastened the seat restraints and followed him. He turned a corner.
To see an older version of Bowman in a black suit.
"Hello, Dr. Floyd," the old man said, sounding slightly artificial. "Please...believe me."
"What...are you?" Floyd gaped. Clearly this apparition was not human. It was...something else.
"This is very difficult for me," Bowman (?) went on. "I don't have much time. I've been allowed to give you this warning. You must leave here in two days."
"Allowed," Floyd repeated, starting towards the figure. "By who?"
"I can't explain," the figure smiled. Now, somehow, he looked like the younger Bowman again. He walked carefully around the Pod Bay as if he knew it - which, if he was Bowman, he would. He reached HAL's terminal and reached out to touch it.
Before he did, he suddenly looked older still, dressed now in a white robe.
"You see...something's going to happen," he quavered. "You must leave."
"What? What's going to happen?"
The figure looked reverent. "Something wonderful."
"What?" Floyd insisted.
"I understand how you feel. You see...it's all very clear to me now. The whole thing. It's wonderful."
"Please, if -" Floyd began.
Suddenly the original Bowman was back. "Goodbye, Dr. Floyd. We can have no further contact. Remember: you have two days."
"We can't leave in two days," Floyd repeated, trying to make whoever/whatever it was understand.
"There may be another message, after," were Bowman's last words, and he almost smiled at the irony as he finished, "if all goes well."
"What's going to happen?" Floyd asked once more. The figure changed once more.
Except now it had gone...younger. Much younger.
The baby Bowman, glowing in its shell/cocoon/whatever, turned to look at him. Its gaze was one of a child...who somehow held all the knowledge of the Universe.
Then there was nothing but the ordinary Pod Bay. Floyd was alone.
Soon he was making his way in a spacesuit towards Leonov. He hailed her on the emergency frequency.
"Kirbuk."
"This is Floyd. I'm coming over. If there's anyone on the bridge, tell 'em to get lost."
"Is impossible! You heard the orders, you can't!"
"You wanna arrest me, go ahead! Because I'm coming over! And we're gonna talk!"
Leonov
The bridge
"You wanna put the cuffs on?" Floyd demanded as he arrived on the bridge.
"Cuffs?" Kirbuk returned, not understanding.
"Never mind!"
"What is so important, that you do this?" she demanded in turn, on the verge of retrieving her sidearm, the only one on Leonov, the one on which the Kremlin had insisted purely as a precaution. She was beginning to think she might have to use it.
"Now listen to me! Just, just listen to me!" Floyd began, frustrated. He had no idea how the hell he was gonna tell her without revealing too much or sounding crazy. But he had to make her understand. He didn't understand the warning, but he sure as hell believed it. "We've gotta get outa here! We have to leave in two days!"
"What are you talking about?"
"Something...something extraordinary is about to happen! I don't know what," he admitted, "but we have to initiate an escape launch in two days!"
It seemed clear to Kirbuk. "You've been drinking your whisky from Kentucky!"
"Oh, I wish I had!" he returned with feeling. "I can't tell you why I know what I know, because if I told you, you'd never believe me. I'd never believe me! You simply have to trust me! I know that trust doesn't come easy, with what's going on!"
"I can't just order us to leave here for no reason! I am under orders, and so are you!"
"The hell with those orders! The people who gave those orders don't know what they're doing, and they're not up here!"
"This is crazy," Kirbuk cursed.
"You bet it is!"
"Even if I should trust you, which I'm not sure that I do, or even if I wanted to leave here for no reason, I can't! And neither can you! We don't have enough fuel. Not until Earth is in the correct position, which is three weeks away, so is impossible for both of us!"
"You're wrong," Floyd said in a quieter voice. "We can't do it separately. We can do it together."
"What are you talking about now?"
Floyd arranged two pens so they floated in the microgravity environment, one above the other; no-one usually noticed the lack of gravity owing to their adhesive footwear. "We have enough fuel in Discovery for a launch. You have enough fuel in the Leonov for the trip home. We use the docking ring on the Leonov to attach to the Discovery," he explained, pointing to the uppermost pen. "Then we use the Discovery as a booster rocket for the launch.
"When we use up the Discovery's fuel, we detach -" he flicked the lower pen so it floated away, "she falls away, and we use the Leonov for the trip home. It'll work."
"Perhaps," she breathed. It was certainly an audacious plan, one which hadn't occurred to her.
"If we start now," Floyd concluded.
Then her doubts came to the fore. "No, you...you ask too much of me...I can't do all these things with no reason, I can't disobey my country for no reason..."
"Forget reason!" Floyd entreated harshly. "No time to be reasonable! The politicians can go screw themselves! We're not playing games, the war is over - good Christ!"
He had spotted something which changed everything. More accurately, he had spotted the absence of something.
The Monolith had vanished.
He choked out, "It - it's gone."
Floyd and Kirbuk stared at each other. Then she said quietly, "Suddenly your claims do not look so outrageous. This is not a coincidence. Dr. Floyd, I am asking you now, for the safety of the entire crew, to tell me everything."
Soberly he nodded. "I will. But it'd be better, quicker, if I told everyone at the same time."
"Agreed." She crossed to the PA. "This is the Captain. All hands report to the Ward Room immediately. The situation has changed in a totally unexpected way." Kirbuk signed off and added calmly, "I have opened an emergency channel to Discovery. I suggest you summon your companions."
"Good idea. Discovery, this is Leonov, calling on emergency frequency. And believe me, we have got an emergency."
"Hello, Leonov," the reply came, "this is HAL. Might I inquire as to the exact nature of the emergency?"
"Not right now, HAL," Floyd shook his head. "Just get me Curnow and Chandra, if you would."
"Certainly. I have Dr. Chandra."
"Dr. Floyd. Where are you?"
"Aboard Leonov, and believe me, this is an emergency. I want to brief everyone at the same time."
"I see. What, might I ask, is so urgent that - ah. Now I see." Obviously he had looked out of a window and noted the absence of the Monolith. "You are logically correct. I am on my way."
"Good. Curnow, this is Leonov. Get over here. That's an order."
"The hell?"
"Curnow," Floyd requested patiently, "look out of a window and tell me what you see."
"Okay. I see stars. Jupiter. Io doing its thing. HOLY FUCK!"
"Exactly," Floyd said grimly.
"On my way!"
"You saw Bowman?!" Curnow gasped incredulously.
"That would be logically impossible," Chandra stated flatly, "even assuming he is still alive. Clearly it was a simulation of him."
Floyd nodded. "Yeah, but...not exactly. When he first appeared, he looked the way I remembered him. Exactly as I remembered him. Then when I got to the Pod Bay...it was like he'd aged about thirty years. But it was definitely Bowman.
"We talked, and he changed again, back to the original. He walked around the bay, and then changed to an even older man. Then suddenly he was back to his old self. Finally he warned me again that we only had two days, I asked him what was about to happen...and he was just a foetus, but glowing with light inside an...egg, or something. Then he vanished.
"I can't explain it. I admit it makes no sense. But no way is it a coincidence that Bowman or whoever crops up and warns me, and the Monolith disappears. No fucking way is that a coincidence," Floyd finished grimly.
"Do we have any information as to the precise nature of the threat?" Chandra inquired.
But Kirbuk shook her head. "Is entirely irrelevant, Doctor. There is threat. Is all we need to know." She was briefly eschewing redundant syntactical particles, given that Russian did not possess them. "I am aborting our mission to carry out Dr. Floyd's suggested plan: to unite Leonov and Discovery in order to use the latter as a booster rocket. This will give us the extra velocity needed to rendezvous with Earth. We shall need all hands - there is wery limited time."
"I shall set up the docking clamps to grasp Discovery near the command module," Dr. Orlov decided.
"The booster manoeuvre is gonna generate one hell of a lot of torque," Curnow warned. "Not sure if Discovery can take it. No-one's ever placed a load like this on her before. I'll get onto Houston, make inquiries."
"Good," Floyd nodded. "Chandra, set up the manoeuvre with HAL."
"Of course," Chandra nodded.
"Hey, wait," Floyd realised, "we jettisoned the walkway. We can't keep jetting in suits to and fro, it's too slow and we don't have the air."
"The designers took that into account," Orlov nodded, "and so we have a backup system. We shall deploy it."
"Hope it's simple."
"Da. It consists of pulleys. Is wery simple."
"Good," Floyd applauded.
"Message from Milson to Floyd, Top Secret."
The Leonov was manoeuvring to meet with Discovery.
"Switching to Key Alpha-Slash-Leader 7-2-7-4 on your mark. Mark. Dr. Curnow asked ground to furnish him with data as to the stress points on Discovery. The answers are being transmitted binary in 15 minutes. As to how much torque it was designed to take, no-one here is really sure. We would like to know the reason for Curnow's request. Please send your reply as soon as possible. End transmission Milson 2-7-7-9."
Once the two spacecraft were properly positioned, Leonov grasped Discovery by her spine near the command module. Chandra and Curnow were monitoring stress levels. They proved to be relatively minimal; Curnow soon deduced that Discovery could take it.
"Message from Milson to Floyd. It's been 12 hours since my request for information. I need a reply - all hell is breaking loose down here! I have enough problems without you pulling some kind of a stunt! I only hope there's a world left for you to return to. Report to ground what is going on and make that report immediately!
"And while you're at it, could you please check out a black spot on Jupiter that has been detected by satellite telescope? It is on the far side and should be coming around your way in about four hours. End transmission Milson 2-7-8-0."
Meanwhile a pulley-based system was being deployed by the crew to allow passage between the two vessels. Leonov's designers had been canny, and had considered that they might lose the walkway somehow. The pulley system was their response.
Leonov
The Ward Room
"I have made the calculations," Dr. Orlov told them. "To get enough velocity for an escape launch with Earth that far out of position, we will need a full power burn from Discovery of over one hundred twenty seconds. If the engines shut down too early, we will not have enough velocity to get back home."
Curnow had looked into it; enough fuel remained in the reserve tanks. When Discovery was being designed, a choice had to be made between hydrogen and ammonia as the engines' working fuel. Hydrogen was normally flammable, but it was perfectly safe in vacuum. It was somewhat lighter than ammonia and, indeed, more efficient as a fuel.
However, it was very difficult to liquefy and contain; for the planned mission it would be essential to have a ready supply of fuel on hand when Discovery would be recovered. By the time the recovery ship arrived, most of the hydrogen would have boiled away. Ammonia was almost as efficient, but much easier to store; it was far less volatile, so the evaporation losses, inevitable despite refrigeration, would be greatly reduced. Thus a compromise between efficiency and cost was decided upon, and ammonia was the fuel selected.
Now that decision would pay dividends - the loss of fuel had been minimal over nine years, and so Discovery retained ample supplies for the launch. "Discovery has enough on board," Curnow reassured them, "and HAL should be able to control the burn, right?"
"How long will it take you to program HAL for the launch?" Floyd asked Chandra.
But Chandra hesitated in an atypical manner. "I don't know. It's not as simple as that. I have spent the last several weeks programming HAL for a thousand-day orbit back to Earth, and now all those programs will have to be dumped."
"I know," Floyd nodded, pained, "but it can't be helped, you know that. How long will it take?"
"We know how sensitive he is to mission objectives," Chandra continued as if Floyd had never spoken, "and now you are telling me to program him for the destruction of the Discovery, as well as his own destruction. Has anybody considered his reaction?"
This was an unexpected obstacle. On the one hand, HAL was an essential integral part of the mission. On the other hand, they needed him to control the burn precisely...and he possessed both intuition and volition. If HAL vetoed the launch, the only possible solution lay...with Floyd.
But only Floyd, Curnow and, as a matter of necessity, Kirbuk knew that.
"Are you saying that he might disobey orders, like he did the last time?"
"That isn't what happened last time. He was given conflicting orders and he did his best to interpret them."
"Then what are you saying?" Floyd wondered.
"I am saying that I don't know how he will react. I'm sorry, but I don't."
"Have you discussed this with HAL?" Kirbuk inquired.
Chandra's reply of "No" was honest, but a little too quick for Floyd's liking. Or Kirbuk's.
"Load the new program," Floyd ordered. "We don't have any choice."
"Now remember," Chandra insisted, "he was programmed for curiosity. If the crew was killed, he was capable of carrying out the mission on his own initiative. He will question me about the change in plans. What do you want me to tell him?"
"Tell him Discovery's in no danger and we'll come pick him up later," Curnow suggested blithely.
"But that's not true!" Chandra returned.
"We don't know that it's false!" Curnow retorted.
"He will suspect it, otherwise why would we be leaving weeks ahead of our launch window? To him there will be no other possible logical conclusion: Discovery is in grave peril. Indeed, why else are we doing this?!"
"Hell, Chandra, he's just a machine!"
That was what every doubter had thought about HAL, and about SAL, too. But Chandra knew, beyond any doubt, that they were wrong. Demonstrably, completely, unambiguously wrong.
"So are we all, Dr. Curnow! It is merely a matter of degree! Whether we are based on carbon or silicon makes no fundamental difference - we should each be treated with appropriate respect!"
Chandra had never spoken with such passion about anything before. It was clear that this was what he truly believed. Curnow attempted, "So our choice is him or us? I vote us! All opposed? The ayes have it!"
"Dammit, Curnow, that is not what Dr. Chandra's saying!" Floyd snapped, genuinely angry for once. "He's right! Whatever else HAL is, he deserves respect and we should give it to him! It wasn't his fault that his orders were so badly thought-out!" He paused and turned to Chandra. "Will he believe you?"
Chandra took only a moment to consider it. HAL was a trusting sort; if necessary - and from what Floyd had told him, Chandra was sure that it was - he could lie to HAL if he had to. In fact, he realised, he already had, when HAL had asked about Bowman and Poole.
"Yes," he answered quietly, "coming from me, I think he will. Thank you, Dr. Floyd, for your statement."
"Then let's get started," Floyd said. "We haven't got much time."
Soon Chandra was making his way to Discovery, watched by Floyd and Curnow, assisted by a crew member who was otherwise unoccupied at the moment.