The Clouds of Venus: Hard Science Fiction

by Brandon Q. Morris

  He activated his x-ray sensor. The influx for the chemical engines of the transporter had not yet been activated, meaning that he still had at least five seconds before ignition. That should be enough. Erik controlled his body and remained calm. If the hot gases touched even a foot, that would severely damage the AV. But that would not happen.

  He knew the limits of the machine. In the sea, he had often tested its endurance beyond those limits. Erik shifted to the highest gear and flew past the engine jets. The space around him remained ice cold. He had already reached the airlock when the transporter finally began to make its way back to Earth of its own accord.

  “Not bad,” Ethan said appreciatively. “I really would like to slip under the skin of your ironman one of these days.”

  “Yes, well done,” Charles said.

  Erik nodded. He was tired. In the meantime, his pants were wet between his legs. While he was in the AV, his sphincter had relaxed, a usual occurrence, because his human needs did not reach his consciousness as long as he was controlling the machine. But at least it also meant that he had not felt hungry during that interlude.

  “Can we dock soon?” he asked.

  “Yes, the docking mechanism is ready. We’re already on our way. We’ll arrive in fifteen minutes,” confirmed the commander.

  Arrive? Not exactly. After a short time here, they would be traveling for 110 days. Then they would spend 30 days on Venus, and finally it would take 300 days for the return journey, because the Earth would be in a less favorable position than on the outbound flight. But right now, Erik really did not care. He longed for clean, dry clothes, followed immediately by hot food.

  February 14, 2079, Earth Orbit

  “Look after yourself, Erik,” his mother said. She crumpled a handkerchief in her hands. Her arms were propped up on her desk. He could tell she was trying to stop herself from shedding tears.

  “I will,” he replied. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll be back soon.”

  She looked like she did not quite believe him.

  “I’m not alone, after all.” He turned the neck of the small camera so that she could see Nuria, Ethan, and Charles, who were also having their last conversations with their families.

  It was a strange tradition. After all, they could talk to them tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, and next week, too. In a few weeks, the signal delay would be a bit too long for live conferences, but even then they could still exchange video messages.

  “Yes, I’ve read a lot about your colleagues. Do you know what Charles achieved on a mission?”

  “Thank you, Mother, I’m sure he’ll tell me in the coming weeks. We will be spending more than a year in close proximity.”

  Erik had gone out of his way to not find out anything about his colleagues. He’d hoped that there would then be more things to talk about. It was the close fellowship in the four rooms of the ship that he feared the most.

  “I could not do that,” his mother said. “I admire your female colleague, her lack of fear, so alone with three men.”

  “What do you mean? Men aren’t predators! Besides, studies have shown that the presence of a woman has a very positive effect on the mood on board.”

  “I can imagine that—you men tend to behave better. Please say hello to Nuria for me.”

  “Have you heard from Father?” Erik asked, biting his lip. He had intended to avoid the topic.

  “No, not for a few months. Not since he got in touch with me while he was in rehab. But by now he must have had his next relapse.”

  “Presumably.”

  They were silent, each mulling over their own thoughts.

  “All right,” Erik said, “I should get back to my duties. You can always reach me via NASA. While we are on the way to Venus, a radio signal takes no more than three minutes to reach our spaceship.”

  He had no idea which duties he should be performing, but Ethan and Charles had already ended their farewell conversations. Only Nuria was still looking at the screen. She was—he presumed—not communicating with only her mother. Although Erik knew that it was prejudicial to think like this, he nevertheless imagined a large family gathered around the camera.

  “Thank you, Erik. I love you.”

  “I know, Mother, I love you, too.”

  The handkerchief disappeared into her fist. Then the picture vanished. He felt sorry for his mother. She must have often imagined herself taking care of her grandchildren, and now her only child was disappearing into space for a long time. She would make a good grandmother, too.

  A tear rose into the corner of his eye. He turned to the others before the wetness could spread.

  “Venus Air, start countdown to engine ignition.”

  Barbara from the replacement team was the Capsule Communicator, almost always shortened to ‘CapCom.’ Charles knew her well and had asked for her. As they would usually communicate with Earth via the CapCom, the choice was not unimportant. Erik felt that at least her voice was very pleasant.

  The automatic system was counting down, while various technicians called out values and status reports to each other. In his mind it all merged into a steady stream. They would soon be going on a long journey. Erik had been able to fool himself for a long time into thinking that this was nothing special, but now he felt it. It was downright outrageous! They were freeing themselves from the gravitational field of the fertile planet on which he had grown up, traversing the deadly emptiness in a fancy metal ‘nutshell,’ and then letting themselves be captured by a hot hell that was utterly hostile to life. Under such circumstances, it was not shameful to be scared. His hands clung to the armrests.

  He then heard the launch command. The seat vibrated. He looked over at Ethan, who as the pilot was responsible for launching, but he had as little to do as Erik. The engine was controlled via computer by a program written by NASA personnel. Erik hoped that Ethan would never be required to do anything, because that would mean they were in big trouble. So he observed the pilot’s reactions to the on-screen messages. Ethan remained calm, and that eventually affected Erik as well. He surrendered to the force that pushed him into his seat.

  “Who came up with the name Venus Air that Barbara used earlier?” Ethan asked after a while.

  “No idea,” Charles replied. “But it somehow suits the spaceship we are towing.”

  ‘Towing’ isn’t the right word, Erik thought. After all, we are pushing the folded-up spaceship ahead of us.

  “They could have asked us,” Ethan said.

  “Nothing prevents us from coming up with a different name for the ship,” Charles said. Does anyone have any ideas?”

  “How about Aphrodite?” Nuria suggested. “That is the Greek—”

  “Too long and unpronounceable,” Ethan interrupted her.

  “I agree with you, but you should have let Nuria finish her sentence,” the commander admonished him.

  “Thank you, Charles,” Nuria said.

  “Any other suggestions?”

  Nobody answered.

  “Then we’ll continue to use the name Venus Air,” Charles said.

  “What do you think of the idea that I make us lunch?” Nuria asked.

  “A brilliant idea,” answered Ethan.

  “But I don’t want to create a false impression. It will be somebody else’s turn tomorrow.”

  “Of course, boss,” Ethan said.

  February 15, 2079, Venus Air

  “Wow,” Nuria cried, floating through the capsule and trying out acrobatic maneuvers.

  A few minutes ago they had shed the first stage of the engine. Now weightlessness prevailed for a few minutes before the second stage ignited. The others watched Nuria and laughed. At that moment it felt good for Erik, too, to be free from the burden of his own body’s weight. But it wouldn’t remain that way. Everyone he had asked had assured him that weightlessness was, in the long run, just annoying, not least because of the constantly needed acrobatics.

  “You have another ten minutes,” Charles sa
id.

  “I can’t continue for that long,” Nuria replied. “I had no idea this was so exhausting.”

  “It will only be so exhausting in two or three weeks,” Ethan said, “when the novelty of weightlessness has worn off.”

  “Let her enjoy herself,” Charles said. “Don’t spoil her fun.”

  “Have you ever been outside for a while?” Erik asked.

  “Longer than I liked being,” Ethan declared. “I was on a mission to a near-Earth asteroid, but my replacement didn’t arrive on time. I had to stay outside for a whole solar orbit.”

  “Oh, no! What was the worst part? Did you have enough food and oxygen?”

  “Yes, they sent me some using an unmanned rocket. That was no problem. But there was no gravity. I had to spend almost half the day doing acrobatics. I sweated a lot! I would have become a muscle man on Earth, but in space it was just enough to ensure that my muscles didn’t shrink completely.”

  “I see,” Erik said. “Why did you sign up again for such a long mission?”

  “Hey, a new planet—when does one get to visit one in this day and age? I also think one reason why I became an astronaut was a desire to be mentioned in the history books. I could not have foreseen the unlikelihood of that in such a short time, but it’s become just another ordinary job. And what made you become an astronaut, Erik?”

  “Diving. I’ve always liked to dive.”

  “Diving?” Being out here is pretty much the opposite of that!” Ethan said.

  “The AVs were first tested in volcanoes and in the deep sea—high pressure, heat—where else can you find that on Earth? That’s what I heard about at the university, so I signed on.”

  “You never wanted to be an astronaut?”

  “Not initially. I was never interested in stars and planets.”

  “I don’t quite understand you, but at least you’re honest,” Ethan said.

  “I hate to interrupt you, but it’s time to ignite the second stage,” Charles announced.

  Erik strapped himself in again. Nuria floated back to her seat and did likewise.

  “Ignition in one minute,” the automatic system announced.

  Sixty seconds passed, then inertia pushed Erik back into his seat.

  February 16, 2079, Venus Air

  “Good night, Erik.”

  Nuria closed the metal door in front of his nose. It felt like being sealed in a coffin, but then the light came on. Erik looked around. The cabin was not as small as he had imagined it would be. He could turn around and tilt the backrest so that he could comfortably read while lying down. About half a meter in front of his nose was a screen that showed computer data or movies—or the environment as viewed by the small outdoor camera. He surfed through the channels. The view of space was still blocked as the cabin had not yet been driven outside the spaceship.

  “Are you all right?” Nuria asked via radio. “No panic attack?”

  “I’m doing very well,” he replied.

  “Everything’s fine here, too,” he heard Ethan say. He lay in the second capsule on the other side of the ship.

  “Okay, then, I’ll drive you outside now,” Nuria said.

  “Go ahead,” Erik said.

  The two cabins, each attached to a pair of round bars, were simultaneously being pushed outward. They moved very slowly away from the ship. Erik switched to the camera. At first he was startled, because the Venus Air already looked so small. But he was at most only three meters away. It must be due to the wide-angle lens of the camera.

  The cabins came to a stop with a jerk. The distance to the ship was now about eight meters. From the outside, the cabins hanging from the rods probably looked like two stubby wings.

  “Starting rotation,” Nuria said.

  The ring from which the cabins were suspended began to turn. Erik turned off the camera so that he would not become dizzy. The rotation accelerated at first, and then it stabilized. It did not take long for Erik to not feel it anymore. He knew he was spinning ten times a minute around the axis of the spaceship, but all he felt was a gravitational force working outward, pushing him onto his bed. It had about two-thirds the strength of Earth’s gravity, and was meant to prevent his bone density and muscles from declining.

  The capsule was cocoon-shaped. He was protected on almost all sides by a shell, which insulated him with a layer of water against cosmic radiation. The water also served to balance the differing weight of the two occupants. He and Ethan weighed about the same, but later, when it was Nuria and Charles’s turn, the machine would no longer run smoothly without modification, and over time the bearings would be ruined. Therefore, water would be pumped into, or out of, the cabin shells until the two were well-balanced.

  Erik was surprised at how normal his sojourn here felt after such a short time. The cabin was more spacious than a single coffin, but smaller than two. He would have expected a greater sense of claustrophobia under such circumstances. The interior designers had done a great job, and the cabin seemed to him almost like a small living room. Only the risk of colliding with an asteroid worried him. Even if the ship responded immediately, it would take about a minute for the cabin to be pulled in and for him to be able to exit. On the other hand, the ship could also be hit by an asteroid. He banished both thoughts, activated his screen, and uploaded one of the new series that Nuria had raved so much about.

  After a while, Erik awoke to total darkness. The cabin’s sensor system must have noticed that had fallen asleep, stopping the movie and dimming the light.

  “Soft light,” he said.

  An orange lamp lighted up near his foot.

  Then Erik realized why he had woken up. He needed to empty his bladder. There was no toilet aboard the cabin, but they had brought enough urine containers. He relieved himself into the plastic bag, sealed it till it was airtight, and restarted the video. He had only managed to watch ten minutes before falling asleep. He wondered how long it would take this time.

  February 17, 2079, Venus Air

  One hundred and seven days left. If he felt like their flight approaching Venus was taking a long time, how would he feel on the return flight? Erik played with a wart on his middle finger. It had not been there the day before yesterday. Presumably, his immune system was adjusting, and a few viruses had seized the opportunity to grow a wart. He had to be careful not to break it open.

  How had the Enceladus expedition managed? The crew traveled for a whole year, despite their ship’s massive fusion engines. If NASA hadn’t needed to economize so much, Erik realized they could be reaching Venus in three weeks. But helium-3, the fuel for the DFDs, had since become much more expensive than it had been over 30 years ago, when the expedition into the Saturn system made headlines. Erik had not yet been born, but his mother had told him about it.

  He linked the telescope to the screen. He first focused the telescope on the sun, then let the central star move out of the picture on the right. He could instruct the automated system to show the planet, but he wanted to do it himself. Venus was never far from the sun, and it was by far the brightest object in the sun’s vicinity.

  There! He had found it. She sparkled like a bright diamond. How such a sight could deceive! Actually, it should have appeared red hot, Venus’s surface was hot. But they would never get to see the surface directly, only through the eyes of the two AVs.

  Such a journey is a marvel, he thought. It would consist almost entirely of braking, because their destination planet’s orbit around the sun was shorter than that of Earth’s. First they had to accelerate to escape the gravitational pull of their home world, but once that had been accomplished, they could only reach Venus if their speed was low enough. It was like driving away from Houston at full speed on Interstate 10, and once you reached the city limits, taking your foot off the gas pedal and then letting the car just coast across New Orleans to Jacksonville on the Florida coast. This comparison is, I’m sure, not close to scale, Erik thought, but he had no desire just then to do the math.
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br />   He directed his gaze again toward their destination and increased the resolution of the telescope. However, Venus did not reveal anything about itself. It cloaked itself prudishly in a dense cloud cover, which one could not penetrate from here. But Venus would not succeed in keeping its surface hidden. In the body of his AV he would descend onto the planet and get to the bottom of its secrets.

  February 18, 2079, Venus Air

  Nuria and Ethan were sleeping in the cabins when Charles said, “Well, well.”

  Erik unbuckled and floated over to him. “What is it?” he asked.

  “A message from my acquaintance in the intelligence service.”

  “Which one of the agencies?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Charles said.

  “You’re right. And what does your acquaintance have to say?”

  “One of our spy satellites has spotted preparations for a big launch in Russia.”

  “But that’s an everyday occurrence, isn’t it?” asked Erik.

  “This time, it seems to be a mission with a spaceship equipped with DFDs. The RB Group can only afford something like that once every few years.”

  “You mean they want to beat us to Venus?” That would be underhanded, he thought. But a human-crewed landing on the hellish planet? Not even RB could manage that!

  “I don’t have an opinion. My friend says it’s not clear where the journey is going. At any rate, it has nothing to do with the daily business of mining.”

  “Why don’t we just ask?” Erik suggested.

  “You think we could get an answer? The Russians are not considered to be very informative.”