The Clouds of Venus: Hard Science Fiction

by Brandon Q. Morris

  “I will need a vehicle tonight,” she told the only employee on duty, who was watering the flowers.

  “Any particular model?”

  “A few boxes with books should fit into it.”

  The man, who was wearing a blue suit and a grubby white shirt, stretched his hand toward her, palm upward. “I could lend you the hotel’s van,” he said. “I happen to have the key. Park it where it previously was, in front of the building, and give Alyosha the key early tomorrow morning. After eight at night the front desk is no longer staffed.”

  She placed a bill in his outstretched hand. There was a reason why the government had not managed to get rid of cash. The employee smirked and handed her the van key.

  It was difficult for her to not slap the grin off his face.

  The dacha was rented in the name of a female friend. Anastasia had arranged with her that the friend would stay away from the flat-roofed bungalow. Of course, there was always the risk that the FSB had discovered the dwelling. But she was confident that currently nobody suspected that she had entered the lion’s den. After the operation in Tokyo, any top-tier terrorist would have run away. But Anastasia was not a terrorist. She was a businesswoman who invested in information.

  She parked the van right in front of the dacha. The basement was accessible via a small staircase in the kitchen. If one of her opponents had thoroughly investigated this house, he would have found her hiding place. But there was nobody in the basement—two microscopic transmitters at the door revealed this fact to her.

  The exoskeleton of the protective suit stolen from RB, which she put on before doing anything else, made it much easier for her to carry the heavy boxes filled with weapons and other equipment first to the van and then to her hotel room.

  Anastasia breathed a sigh of relief, and quickly ate the food she had managed to buy along the way. At the same time, she examined the information from the FSB.

  “Yes!” she called out with her mouth full, spitting on the keypad. She didn’t care.

  Finally, luck was on her side. ‘The person to be protected was handed over to RB,’ it said.

  Peter is back in Russia! she thought. Anastasia had feared that she would have to hunt him down in Japan. She absently wiped the food specks off the screen.

  But there was also a problem—Lazarev’s emergency surgery had been successful. He would recover, and she had created an embittered enemy. Anastasia knew his contacts. She was aware of his abilities and his willpower. Above all, she was mindful of his intuition. Especially the latter worried her a great deal, because the intuition of the opponent was, like chance, an unpredictable factor in every plan.

  She then focused on a seemingly mundane report. According to an FSB mole at RB, Valentina Shostakovna had ordered that a nearly completed spaceship be equipped with the company’s latest DFDs, and had ordered that the ship was to fly to Venus with two people on board. Is Valentina planning to send Peter to a place beyond my reach? Anastasia mused, feeling almost flattered. But why were they going to such lengths on his behalf? For her, he was, above all, the key to the information she needed to supply to the FSB, information she also needed to advance her own private plans.

  It didn’t matter. At least she had information again that she could sell—to all agencies simultaneously, of course. Why should she sell her knowledge to only a single agency, which could then use it for its own purposes and profit? She preferred to supply all of the agencies with information personally. She’d always done this, and so far it had gone well.

  Anastasia decided to use her free time for two projects. First of all, she would scout out RB’s private space center, Vostochny. The launch of the spaceship might be her only chance in the near future to eliminate Peter.

  And, second on her agenda, she would complete the production of the bio-nanofabricators. Maria Kuznetsova had already accomplished the bulk of the work on these nanomachines that were specially engineered for use in humans—and internationally outlawed. Anastasia had managed to make the naive young woman believe that the development was on behalf of RB. As a brilliant biochemist, Maria had been ideally suited for the job.

  The remaining work fell within her skills set, and she no longer needed Maria.

  February 6, 2079, Akademgorodok

  Maria looked Peter directly in the eyes. “Today we have to decide. What is your decision?”

  “Nothing has changed for me. I will fly,” he said.

  “I have read a lot about Venus. It’s an all-around terrible planet, despite its pretty name.”

  “Yes, well, Earth has not been very kind to me, either.”

  “Aptly phrased,” she said with a laugh. “I understand you. Your feelings when first the lab, and then your own home, burned down... But you can rebuild all of that.”

  “Neither the lab nor my house ‘burned down,’” Peter said irritably.

  “But isn’t that what was said in the media?”

  “That coverup cost the FSB and RB a lot of money. After all, the population must not be alarmed... and it’s not completely false. The lab burned down after being blown up. And my house went up in flames after an anti-tank missile exploded in my bedroom.”

  “You shouldn’t park your tank in your bedroom.”

  “Haha, Maria, very funny.” Normally, he might have been angry with her for joking about his misfortune, but today he was surprised to find that her humor made him feel better. He should not take it all so personally. Anastasia had simply used him, even though he still did not know what for. He must not misdirect his anger toward Maria.

  “But seriously, Peter, I was wondering why Valentina wants you to go into hiding like this, by sending you so far away.”

  “Yes, well, the answer to that is, Anastasia. She is serious. She even tracked me down in Tokyo,” Peter said. He pointed at Katarina, who was standing deactivated and open in the workshop. “Without the robot I would be dead now. Dushek posthumously saved my life.”

  “Igor Dushek, the AI expert?”

  “Yuri. Exactly. He was incredibly talented. That became quite clear to me during the few days I spent in Tokyo.”

  “What do you think Anastasia wants from you?”

  “I have no idea. We were even friends for two years, and I always thought she was a sensible woman. Perhaps a bit exhausting...”

  “Maybe she went nuts because I flirted with you at our last party,” Maria said.

  Peter looked at her in bewilderment. Did she mean that seriously? Her worried expression showed that she meant it. “Nobody explodes a lab due to jealousy. There has to be more to it.”

  “Lazarev told me she had denounced me.”

  “That would be typical of her. She has always been vindictive,” Peter said. “I could tell you stories—”

  “So, maybe that’s the reason?”

  “What?”

  “That you know so much about her. Things that can be dangerous to her without your realizing it?”

  Peter shrugged. What did he know about Anastasia that incriminated her? In a quiet moment, he would have to think about it. But not now. First, he would have to prevent spending six agonizing weeks with Tarasov. Over the past three days, his conversations with Maria had shown him that the flight with her might be stimulating, even though there were significant risks.

  “What’s your decision, Maria, are you coming along?”

  “Will the robot be coming with you?”

  “Yes. Katarina is an AI with the body of a light combat robot, and will not hesitate to sacrifice her existence to save us.”

  “I would not hesitate either, Peter.”

  What kind of answer was that? Was she coming along or not? Did he not deserve a straight answer to his clear question? If he asked now, he would only lose, because, from Maria’s point of view, the answer was evident—to her.

  Peter gave up. He would just have to wait and see if she would be sitting next to him in the shuttle when it lifted off.

  February 9, 2079, Houston
r />   “I can’t do this.”

  “Yes you can, Erik.”

  “No, really, it’s too difficult.”

  “Believe me, you can do it.”

  “Perhaps you can, Nuria.”

  “Maybe, if you finally let me continue to study.”

  Erik laid his head on the table. They had been ensconced in this small room without daylight for four days. They’d been cramming, and his head was about to burst. As soon as he was able to name the bones of the human body, he was no longer able to recall how to calculate his position from the position of the sun and the Earth. As soon as he managed to calculate a Hohmann Transfer to Mercury, he had forgotten the names of all the bones.

  Wasn’t all of this meaningless? If the situation ever arose that he needed to remove Nuria’s appendix, which had already been removed anyway, he would simply look it up in the textbook. There would be enough time for that!

  Someone knocked on the door. Erik was glad for every little distraction. It was half past one, so it was probably Colonel Massey, bringing them lunch.

  It was indeed the colonel, who immediately entered the room, making Erik feel claustrophobic. Massey had a charisma that left little room for others. Erik would have liked to know how his wife was able to endure him. The colonel liked to talk about her and spoke of her very affectionately. They had been married for 32 years. Erik knew they had met in a diner in Houston and that she had liked Massey’s cowboy hat. Typical. He could not get such useless knowledge out of his head, but the primitive Keplerian laws eluded him again and again.

  “Did you forget about our meal?” Nuria asked him.

  Erik always wondered why she did not seem to be more in awe of the colonel.

  “On purpose,” Massey replied. “You need to get out into the fresh air. I am taking you to lunch.”

  An excellent idea, Erik thought. I can’t even remember what the sun looks like.

  “It will cost us at least an hour of study time,” Nuria complained.

  “No arguing, that’s an order,” Massey said, in such a way that Nuria immediately closed her textbook.

  Massey took them to a diner that looked to be a hundred years old. Even the waiters were dressed in the style of the last millennium. Had the colonel met his wife here?

  “Before you ask, no. This diner has only been in existence for five years. I’ve never been here with my wife. But my colleagues tell me the burgers are good,” Massey explained.

  A young woman took their orders. All three of them opted for the classic burger. Nuria chose double cheese, Massey ordered twice the amount of meat. “A unique opportunity,” he said conspiratorially. “My wife would scold me about the cholesterol level if she were here.”

  “But you could have ordered the low-cholesterol meat,” Nuria said.

  Massey shuddered. “It’s bad enough that the meat comes from the lab instead of from cattle.”

  “I can’t taste the difference,” Nuria said.

  “You’ve probably never tasted an animal-meat burger,” Massey said.

  “My father always liked to take me to such places.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know that,” Massey said. “I thought your family was from Saudi Arabia?”

  “My parents tried to adapt as much as possible. They were nearly as American as apple pie. It didn’t even matter to my father that the meat in the burgers was not halal. But I’m glad that nowadays no animals have to die for the sake of meat consumption.”

  “How did Islam come to terms with it? Is laboratory meat considered to be halal?” Massey asked.

  “For most people, yes. It does not stem from an animal. Thus the process of slaughtering simply does not factor into the equation.”

  The waitress placed glass bottles with antiquated shapes on the table, one in front of each of them. She also brought them a huge plastic bottle with ketchup. The young woman winked at Erik. In Houston, he had heard, male astronauts still had status and were among the most sought-after bachelors.

  “There’s something I have to tell you,” Massey said.

  Erik perked up his ears. The colonel had suddenly spoken very quietly. The friendly waitress was obviously not supposed to overhear this part of the conversation.

  “Oh?” Nuria asked, sitting upright. It almost seemed as if her ears were twitching. Nuria sometimes reminded Erik of an elf, especially because of her long, dark hair.

  “A colleague working for the secret service told me something. This information is completely unofficial. Nevertheless, you two should know about it,” Massey explained.

  Don’t keep us in suspense, Colonel, Erik thought.

  “Apparently, you might not turn out to be the first humans on Venus.”

  “How can that be? And why only apparently? Any nation bringing people to Venus would boast about that to everyone, everywhere!” Nuria said.

  “Every nation, you’re right. But the intelligence agency has heard that a private company is about to preempt you. That means there must be something on Venus making it worth the effort to visit the planet.”

  “But the planet is designated as a protected area in the International Space Treaty,” Erik pointed out.

  “Exactly, just like any celestial body that has not yet been scientifically researched. That’s why they are doing it secretly.”

  “But why doesn’t anyone take action against them, Colonel?” Nuria asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe there isn’t enough evidence. Maybe we’re also exploring protected areas illegally. After the cuts to the military budget, it is supposedly securing alternative funding.”

  “And what does that mean for us?” Erik asked.

  “You should be careful. The others will be careful not to expose their presence, so they’ll avoid you. But if you were to corner them accidentally, they might react aggressively and could kill you both in an ‘accident,’” he said, putting finger quotes around the word. “That would be terrible.”

  “Thank you, Colonel,” Erik said.

  Nuria nodded. The waitress approached with their food and placed three large plates on the table. The burgers were huge and sat on sizable portions of lettuce.

  “But remember, don’t breathe a word to anyone,” Massey said. “NASA knows nothing about this.”

  “Maybe it’s a moot point. I don’t think I can pass the exam,” Erik said.

  “I wouldn’t have mentioned this to you if I wasn’t already quite confident that both of you are flying to Venus,” the colonel replied. “If you cannot pass the exam, Nuria has to stay here, too. You realize that?”

  Great. Now I’m also responsible for Nuria’s career? Glad I’m not under any pressure, Erik thought.

  He looked at his plate. Despite the news, the burger still looked delicious. He grasped it with both hands and bit into it. Meat juice and sauce mixed in his mouth. It was a scrumptious meal.

  Half an hour later, the check lay on the table. The waitress had placed it directly in front of Erik. When he turned over the piece of paper, he realized why—a phone number was jotted down on it in blue ink. Erik smiled. The exam was the next day, he was launching into space the day after that, and it would be a year before he’d be back. Would the young woman wait that long for his call?

  All of a sudden, it no longer seemed so terrible if he failed the exam tomorrow.

  February 10, 2079, Houston

  The light flickered. Erik was being flung back and forth in his seat as the whole spaceship vibrated. What’s wrong? Where is Nuria? He first turned his head to the left, then to the right. He was alone. What sort of a strange exam is this? He had expected a test, a long test, with five times the usual number of questions. They had been warned that the final exam would take a whole day.

  He’d been studying all his books like crazy and wondering how he could remember all those facts. When Nuria had quizzed him, he had never answered more than 40 percent of the questions correctly. Anything under 80 percent meant failure—at least that had been the case with the previous
tests, each with 200 questions. He’d only had to repeat two out of ten exams, while Nuria—of course—had passed every exam on her first attempt.

  An alarm sounded. Its shrill sound indicated that it had an important message to announce. He raised his head. The screen in front of him showed the oxygen level in the spaceship was sinking. There must be a leak somewhere, or the life support system was no longer working properly. Erik wanted to stand up, but he couldn't do it. His body was strapped down. He recognized the large buckle of the safety belt over his stomach. The buckle was easy to open if you had your hands at your disposal. But his arms were fastened to the sides of the seat.

  “Hello? What’s going on here?” he shouted.

  Nobody answered. Where is Nuria? She had driven with him to the exam this morning. Erik remembered. They had been sitting in a sort of storage room, waiting nervously for the examiner. Then it suddenly went dark.

  The shrill alarm sounded again. The oxygen partial pressure was approaching the critical level, the screen said. Of course! They wanted to test his reaction. Would he panic? No, he would stay calm. This was the final exam, so they were taking it to the limit. They were observing and analyzing him via hidden cameras. He would remain calm and think of something.

  Then Erik realized that it was getting harder to breathe. The percentage of oxygen displayed on the screen was similar to that found at an altitude of 6,000 meters. It was undoubtedly just due to his panicking. Surely they wouldn’t switch off his air supply! NASA had invested so much money in his education, it would certainly not place him in mortal danger! He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It was unmistakable. He recalled the outdoor training in the Andes. This was how it had felt when they were close to the summit, when they had finally been given breathing masks.