Hearing this, Iason shifted the joystick to the right, intending to gradually slip out of the stream. A moment later, it turned out that he didn’t have time for this maneuver. Suddenly his engines stalled, and the stream, no longer meeting resistance, pushed him with all its might.
The chair began its acceleration, but Iason hoped that it did not have time to accumulate high velocity—there remained just about twenty meters to the feeder. He unfastened himself hurriedly and, half erect, he pushed the chair back with his legs to get rid of it and its inertia. This strike increased his acceleration relative to his target, predictably to him.
Soon, Iason could extend his left hand and grab the edge of the feeder. Instead of his thermo-insulated glove, he almost instantly felt the coldness of the surface, being chilled by the super icy liquid. Nevertheless, he didn’t weaken his grip, and managed to stop himself.
He was already catching his breath when suddenly he felt something heavy hit him from behind. In the next instant, Iason saw his transport, reflected from his back, flying into the darkness. Immediately, the astronaut realized the menacing result of this collision—the edge of the box had slipped out of his gloved fingers.
At first, Iason was surprised: How had this happened? Hadn’t he pushed his vehicle back when he’d gotten rid of it? The next moment he felt a stream of liquid, heavily blowing against his back, or rather against the tanks with his air mixture in them. A second later Iason inhaled very cold air; it explained the situation to him. Although here, in near-earth orbit, the average temperature was almost equal to that on the ground, liquid deuterium was colder than that by more than an unimaginable two hundred degrees Celsius.
This cold air meant that the chair, still pushed by the stream of tremendous pressure, was picking up speed again and, now light, it quickly caught up with the astronaut. Then, after colliding with him, the chair flew to the side, and the stream struck the astronaut himself and gave him a new acceleration.
Now, because of this impact, the cosmic rigger was moving away from both the spacecraft and the ISS, unable to do anything.
“Condor Two, Condor One lost contact!” Iason immediately heard the voice of the mission chief.
He wanted to throw a glance at his pad and learn how much fuel remained in Larri’s chair, but quickly recalled that he couldn’t do that. His screen had flown away together with his chair. That didn’t change anything because Iason knew: his mate had also spent all his fuel during their prolonged last shift.
At that moment, Larri himself entered the conversation: “Condor One, where are you? I can’t see you.”
“I’m flying toward the surface,” Iason responded briefly.
“OK. I see your flashlight,” Larri said as he approached the upper side of the interstellar construction, whose engine had already ceased to work.
“I’ll go to the moorage and recharge my chair, because now I’m almost empty and useless, as you’re quite far from me,” Larri proposed.
He meant that chemical fuel for the riggers’ transports, due to safety requirements, was stored in a container docked on one of the four sides of the pier—a rectangular structure located in a lower orbit about one hundred meters from the ISS and two hundred meters lower than the ship. There were several spare chairs, but they were all empty. There was no point in filling an apparatus with rocket fuel that would not be used for an indefinite time.
“Your recharging will take at least half an hour… it seems that is too long,” Iason replied after a short silence.
“Condor One, what is your distance to the nearest object?” Mission management was requesting more specific data. “What is your approximate delta relative to it? What direction are you moving in?”
After a short pause, Iason began his report: “Right now, the closest is… maybe the third sphere of the second right layer. My speed… the initial acceleration that I felt when I lost a contact reminded me of the quick start of a car, and it lasted three or four seconds, obviously, it was not only a direct stream but also a reflected one — so I don’t know. I’m moving pretty fast—the direction is—I’m spinning and moving toward the surface, as I said.”
“I’m on my way to the pier.” Larri uttered.
After these words, all of them—Iason, Larri, the ISS personnel and the staff on Earth—could only wait. And hope that he was flying slowly and that he wouldn’t fly too far.
…At last, Iason noticed a point of light emerging from under the rocket, like a very faint star shimmering from a frustrating remoteness.
He mused. To overcome the distance, Larri again would spend all his fuel, and no one knew if he would catch up with Iason. And how could they return to the ISS, or to the ship, so that they could be picked up by astronauts free from the shift? There was no way—Iason realized that the recharging was just a symbolic act. Rather, initially no one knew about his speed and the hope remained alive, but now it had become clear—the stream had imparted a fatal acceleration to him.
“Mission control, Condor Two can’t help me. This operation is pointless; stop it,” Iason said in a lifeless voice.
At these words, all the feelings which he’d suppressed until that moment fell upon him. First of all, he felt the fear of death, and a great sadness. Also he sensed resentment, because his existence would unfairly end in a few minutes. He wouldn’t enjoy his life; he wouldn’t live it till the end together with Veana. Here, his memory decisively suppressed his concentration on the current disaster. It stubbornly began to show him how it had started.
Chapter 5
And it had also started with a gush. A waterfall of icy liquid fell directly onto Iason’s sunburned belly and made him flinch. At that time he had been trying to hide from the scorching heat, lying on a deck chair by the pool under a huge motley umbrella made of dense fabric.
A man of his specialty, he didn’t welcome the fuss created by the guests around him, but what could he do? Another choice had been to hide in a hotel room with the air conditioning. He’d preferred to stay here.
Iason raised his head in search of the source of this waterfall. It turned out to be a smiling young woman with short brown hair and emerald green eyes, well-built, dressed in a blue bathing suit. In one hand she held a glass, already empty. She was pressing her other hand against her chest in embarrassment.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see your slippers there!” The stranger began to apologize with a meek smile on her face.
Still, her smile left a lot of room for doubt in the honesty of her apology—it definitely didn’t look sincere. However, in response to her dubious regret, Iason’s lips stretched so wide that even human anatomy would be surprised to see it.
Simultaneously he began to blame himself: “It’s my fault. I’m sprawled here completely blocking the walkway. And… yeah, it could hardly be called an accident, when someone is doused with cold water in such heat.”
“Oh, yes,” the woman didn’t argue with him. “For a person with your physique, it’s not difficult to block something.”
“The investigation has completely solved the case,” Iason concluded vigorously, rising with the words. “The verdict is inevitable: I must immediately reimburse your losses, and you’re kindly invited to sit here and wait for compensation.”
“Oh no, it was my fault…” the woman started, but Iason raised his hands in a token of ending the dispute. After that, he headed to a kiosk on the other side of the pool. His mind still didn’t fully understand the situation, but his feelings convinced him that he could not lose a second.
Returning with paper cups filled with orange juice, Iason declared that he wanted to know with whom he was going to drink. As he asked her, he sat on the chaise-longue beside her and gave her a warm smile.
The young woman introduced herself affably. She turned out to be Veana Fidelthog, from Norway. The man also spoke about himself, and explained that his name was Iason but everybody called him Iase. Also, he mentioned his homeland. Since the word ‘Georgia’ caused
slight bewilderment on Veana’s face, the man added that he was from Colchis, which shed more light on the situation, although it seemed that basically this light came from mythical stories and wasn’t a merit of real geography.
He had never before used his profession to establish relationships with new acquaintances, but this time Iase decided that in order to impress this beautiful woman he should deploy any available advantage. Therefore he almost immediately mentioned that he worked in space.
“Are you really an astronaut?” Veana asked in amazement, and Iase felt delighted to realize that his perhaps not entirely honest trick had given him the necessary result.
“You’re a man of such a rare profession!” Veana continued in wonder. “I would even say that you belong to the elect. As far as I know, there are only about thirty people in the world like you.”
“The figure you mentioned is the number of riggers working at the same time. But over the past ten years, far more people have labored on the assembly of the interstellar expedition.”
Iase nodded his affirmation and sipped his juice before continuing: “So, it seems I’m not all that ‘chosen.’ And now it’s your turn: maybe you’re a person of a truly rare profession?"
“Yes, of course. I’m a lawyer. You can’t find even a billion of my colleagues in the world!” She sniggered.
“The popularity of the profession means that it is fairly decent,” Iase answered with a polite smile. In response Veana beamed at him, then switched to another topic.
“Is this resort your habitual vacation spot? How long can you be absent from space?”
"This is the first time I’m here. As for the duration… the medics say that in both places, earth side and in orbit, I have to stay for equal periods, two months each time. I usually spend my vacation in my own home, but this time I seem to have been unable to resist—um, the pressure of my dad and mom—Meliton and Taso.” He said unexpectedly, even to himself, and grinned, as if apologizing.
Veana looked at him with curiosity.
“I got the impression that, except for the words ‘marry’ and ‘wife,’ they strictly forbade themselves to pronounce the rest,” Iase continued, to the amazement of Veana, “as if I’m not thirty-two years old, but already seventy-two.” He smiled, shaking his head, and then asked, “How about you, have you been here before?”
Veana looked clearly embarrassed by his sudden sincerity. She even opened her mouth for a moment. However, she quickly composed herself and, in the end, just answered, “No. I haven’t had the opportunity. The Dominican Republic is very far from my home,” she paused, obviously gathering her thoughts, and said, “I recently got a job as a lawyer for a sports club and arrived here yesterday for a week’s vacation. Since you’ve acquainted me with information containing numbers, I will take your example and say: I live with my parents and I’m twenty-six years old,” she finished with a warm smile, then added what she remembered at the last moment: “I have an older sister. She married early and lives with her family.”
“It turns out then that we have a common trait—living with our parents,” Iase commented, with his customary smile.
These words caused a pensive expression to cross Veana’s face, and then, perhaps inspired by his strange sincerity, she spoke more freely: “Well, Iase, even though you claim that you’re not the chosen one, I still think that that isn’t entirely correct.”
“What do you mean?” Iase showed a little curiosity.
Veana hesitated briefly, then began her explanation. “I mean that I’m asking myself whether it’s possible to meet an astronaut on the street. Especially in a country where they do not physically exist. While people in any other profession—bakers, actors, farmers, athletes, politicians, teachers, writers—all nations have them in abundance.”
“Huh,” Iase said. “To be honest, Veana, I’ve never thought about that. It turns out that there are really very few of us… what follows from this? Are we truly the elected ones?” He finished, looking at her with a good-natured grin on his face.
“I don’t know…” the beauty said. “Until I met you, I had no idea who do you were, and also no one here knows. They pay no attention to you, at least, not more than to others, and I think it is unfair.” She looked into Iase’s eyes.
Iase felt a surge of pleasure holding her gaze, and keeping eye contact, he said, “As an alternative, you can imagine that here, instead of me, we have a famous football player or a rock star. Would he be able to sit here and talk so freely with a beautiful lady? Isn’t your company better than fame? I’m sure it is.”
“Thank you, if you really think so,” Veana replied, delighted at the compliment.
They fell silent for a while. Iase liked looking at her velvety skin, high cheekbones, pink lips, and white cheeks; he was enjoying the view of her alluring bust framed by the top of her swimsuit. Veana’s narrow waist and chiseled long legs also engrossed his attention. At the same time, he tried very hard to avert his gaze from such attractive places, so as not to look like a savage who hadn’t seen anything so gorgeous in his life.
He also reflected on the impression he might have made upon her. Which of his features might she dislike the most? His long face with its aquiline nose? His wide-set black eyes? Maybe even his black hair, which only covered the crown of his head? In addition, she had mentioned his physique, and not in the most favorable light. Meanwhile, Veana resumed the conversation.
“To my shame, I don’t even know the name of the last person to walk on the surface of another celestial body a century and a half ago.”
“Eugene Cernan. One hundred and thirty-three years ago, in 1972,” stated Iase, involuntarily interfering in her speech.
“This is exactly what I want to say,” Veana said, reacting excitedly to Iase’s words. “Everyone knows of Neil Armstrong, yet almost nobody has heard the names of the other astronauts who have visited our moon. But, space is still dangerous, isn’t it? I mean, it’s true, you aren’t striding around on another planet. I’ve heard that your colleagues are performing a very dangerous task, yet no one knows your or their names.”
Iase looked at her attentively as Veana continued, “I wonder, how do people choose such a dangerous lifestyle? Yes, I know there’s a youthful dream, an aspiration generated by books, films, and so on. Still, it seems I have a chance to learn it firsthand… Oh, I’m sorry, maybe I’ve gone too far?” Veana caught herself rambling, and looked at him hesitantly.
In response, Iase frowned slightly and pondered the question she had asked. At the same time, he realized he felt strange. It seemed that, sitting next to this woman, he’d somehow changed. Suddenly, she held great importance to him. Iase wanted this as yet completely unknown female to be interested in him. He himself sensed a desire to share his dreams and aspirations with her. He’d already strived to get to know this Veana as well as possible.
“Please don’t get me wrong. Mine is a long story.” Saying these words, Iase remembered his childhood—a time when visions of space and stars had begun to prevail in his still-vague thoughts. On that day, on television, he’d seen a strange advertisement. It didn’t praise goods or medicines, as ads usually did. Instead, it invited people to take part in the construction of something as yet unknown: maybe of a cosmodrome, or maybe a spaceship. Iase remembered only the symbol of the institution: three green letters set over a background image of the galaxy—SQP.
Later that summer Iase had visited Samtie, his grandparents’ village. There, he’d inadvertently overheard a conversation in which he learned the true meaning of the space advertisement. It turned out that the letters SQP were an acronym for the Latin words Spatium Quia Praegressus, meaning the space for evolution.
It soon became clear that the old conversation had proved to be a decisive influence later in the life of the then-teenager. It helped Iase understand why his heart rate slowed down whenever he saw stars in the sky.
The reason for this was the abyss hidden in the blackness. Each time he looked up i
nto the darkness of the evening sky, he felt a desire to merge with it. He had realized that without this merger, he couldn’t find the miracles hidden in that boundless void.
There were miracles in the sky, Iase had no doubt. First of all there was infinity itself. What did it look like? Who needed the universe? Who was visible from its edge? The answers to those questions actually lurked somewhere out there, beyond space; he was sure of it. Thus, his road had also led in that direction. In the end, those feelings had gradually paved the way that led him to his goal, although he was not quite where he wanted to be.
“And I will gladly tell you about it if you wish,” Iase added, offering a warm smile.
Later, they spent each day together engaged in what was certainly a pleasant pastime for them both—studying each other. Among other things, Iase told Veana how he had gotten into space from his non-space faring country. It had been thanks to an international program that had invited young people from all over the world to take part in the construction of a cosmodrome in the Namib Desert. In return, they would receive high-level technical skills useful to their home countries. In addition, those who showed the appropriate ability and were willing to work hard could become space riggers. Iase appeared to have been one of those who met the necessary requirements.
His memory then shifted to the moment their love had led to the inevitable result—choosing to be a couple forever.
This time, after his penultimate shift four months previously, they’d met in Barasen, in Veana’s hometown, in a quiet autumn park decorated with yellow and red trees. There, they’d kissed, and Veana had taken a rose from the long branch that Iase had extended to her.
She’d asked, “How are you? You look embarrassed.”
Iase’d looked playfully at her. “The reason for my confusion is absolutely clear. It was enough for me not to see you for two months. As a result, my devices are no longer able to measure your charm and beauty.” With these words, Iase first pressed his hands to his chest, then to his eyes.
Space for Evolution Page 2
