The Clouds of Venus: Hard Science Fiction

by Brandon Q. Morris

  “We can try.”

  “Oh, you mean us? The two of us? Not NASA?” Charles looked at him in astonishment.

  “Yes. Why not?”

  The commander rubbed his chin. “You’re right,” he eventually said. “It costs nothing, and isn’t illegal. Why didn’t I think of that myself?”

  They drafted a message. The most complicated thing was finding the right recipient. They eventually searched scientific publication databases, looking for authors affiliated with the RB Group, and wrote to some of them. One was a man named Oleg Tarasov, who worked at the Institute of Planetary Research in Novosibirsk, and had published research papers about radar measurements on Venus.

  February 19, 2079, Venus Air

  The smell was dreadful. Erik held his nose as he examined the toilet’s oval hole. The suction mechanism had not been working properly since yesterday. As a result, remnants of their excretions had settled on the walls of the bowl. He scraped off the shit. In the humid air here in the waste hygiene compartment, or WHC, it could quickly grow into large bacterial colonies and start walking around at some point. Erik put down the scraper and rinsed the toilet with some water. He then poured a generous amount of disinfectant over it.

  However, this did not solve the problem of the stench. He pressed the switch for the suction device. The fan was working loudly, but the resulting flow of air was still too weak to pull all the remnants into the inner compartment of the toilet, so he knew he had to go deeper. Erik inspected the toolbox and found a multi-jointed rod with a small gripper at the end. If he was lucky, the fan was blocked by something. If he did not find anything, he would have to completely disassemble the toilet and change the fan motor—and this after not even one week! According to the inventory list, they had two spare motors on board.

  He threaded the pole through the sieve at the end of the intermediate container and poked around in the depths of the toilet, without success. The toolbox also contained an endoscopic camera with a long neck. He took the gripper out of the toilet and tried the camera. It had a small screen on its handle, and he needed it to discover the obstacle. Erik dipped the swan neck of the camera into the toilet and rotated it. There was something there, something brown and almost transparent. Could it be a Kleenex? It lay halfway across the grate behind which the fan was concealed. The gripper could not grab it because it was resting flat against the grate.

  Maybe he didn’t have to disassemble the toilet after all! He removed the camera and tried the gripper again. Now he knew where to go. He scraped along the grille with the gripper’s end once, twice, three times, then tried to pick up the obstacle. It worked! The gripper was no longer closing all the way, so he must have caught something. He hoped that he had all of the obstructive material!

  He pulled out the rod. Something was hanging from the gripper, something that definitely could once have been a disposable facial tissue. It had absorbed moisture and become completely soggy without dissolving—a miracle of the modern paper-products industry, but completely out of place in a toilet. Which crew member threw it in? he wondered. Erik placed it in the bucket. It floated in it without touching the edges of the bucket. He would like nothing better than to take it to the command center and hold it under his colleagues’ noses.

  A couple of hours went by before he could lecture his fellow astronauts, because the four of them only met as a group once a day for half an hour.

  When they were all gathered in the command center he said, “The toilet is working again, by the way.”

  “Thank you, Erik. Good job!” Charles praised him. “Did you have to change the fan? Those things often fail.”

  “I hear an undertone,” Nuria said. “I know Erik. He wants to tell us something else.”

  “That’s right. I had to fish out a Kleenex that had settled in front of the fan cover. A disposable tissue!”

  “Yes... And?” Ethan asked.

  “Guys, who throws a Kleenex into the toilet? That’s a pretty sensitive system that we will continue to need for more than a year!”

  “Come on, it’s just paper,” Ethan retorted.

  “Paper? The manufacturers do everything to make sure the stuff is waterproof. It does not disintegrate, it blocks everything.” Erik’s cheeks became hot. Does Ethan just want to irritate me, or does he really believe what he said?

  “Give me a break. It’s not the first time a tissue ended up in the toilet,” Ethan said. “And be glad normal people use a Kleenex when they blow their noses. Chuck Norris uses a body bag.”

  Such a joker. Ethan definitely just wanted to distract them. “So, was it you who threw it in?” Erik rose from his seat.

  “Maybe. How would I know?” Ethan said, laughing. “Now don’t give yourself such airs.”

  “I’m not giving myself airs. I want you to stop doing that, or—”

  “Or?” Ethan unbuckled and stood up, too. Erik noticed how the muscles underneath his T-shirt stood out.

  “That’s enough,” Charles intervened. “Erik is right. Kleenexes don’t belong in the toilet. If we find one again, Ethan, you will be responsible for cleaning the toilet until we arrive on Venus.”

  “Even if it wasn’t me?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “That’s an order,” Charles said. “Orders don’t have to be fair.”

  Ethan grimaced but said nothing. Instead, he slapped Erik firmly on the shoulder. It might have looked like an apologetic gesture, but it hurt.

  That was deliberate, Erik thought. I’ll return the favor when the occasion arises.

  February 20, 2079, Venus Air

  Erik and Nuria shared a shift that day. First exercise, then cleaning, it was the same thing every day. In between, they ate meals—pre-portioned, microwaved food from a bag. Sometimes they needed to add water.

  Wasn’t there a famous chef who had developed recipes specifically meant for zero gravity? But it would probably be too expensive, and since they had no CELSS garden module in the spaceship, fresh, home-grown ingredients were missing anyway.

  Luckily, Erik wasn’t fussy and ate just about anything. The fact that he wanted to personally cook a meal was due more to his desire to add some variety to their daily routine. He thought about building an oven, which should not be too difficult. He flipped through the inventory catalog. They had a spare part on board for the solid material recycling plant, which could serve as a simple cooking plate. But he had to plan this more specifically, since Charles would otherwise never give him permission, because it would increase their energy consumption. Although the solar cells produced a surplus, which would grow on the way to their destination, energy nevertheless remained valuable.

  “Nuria, how are you?” Erik asked his colleague. She didn’t talk much these days, which had not been the case during their training. The journey had somehow changed her. And they hadn’t even been traveling that long yet!

  “Me? I’m fine, thanks for asking.” She looked at him frankly. Her eyes looked sad.

  “You’re different from how you were on Earth,” Erik said.

  “Perhaps. These are special circumstances here. It’s... We’re in a tin can, and somebody keeps throwing small pebbles at us. If one of them hits, we’re dead.”

  “The risk is minimal. On Earth, the danger of being run over by a drunk is far greater. And did you know that around 150 people are killed every year by falling coconuts?”

  “That number is a hundred years old and wrong,” Nuria said. “In reality, the number is much smaller. Should I show you the reference?”

  At that moment, she was once again her old self. He should throw other such fake numbers at her more often.

  “All right, then maybe ten,” he replied. “The last serious asteroid collision with a spaceship was five years ago.”

  “I know. I’m not worried about myself, but I am worried for my parents. If something were to happen to me, my father would not survive that.”

  “My dad doesn’t even kn
ow where I am right now. He’s only interested in where he can get his next drink.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Nuria said.

  “Thanks.”

  Maybe he should write to his father. He had enough time on his hands to do so. But he just didn’t feel like it.

  February 21, 2079, Venus Air

  Tarasov had answered. It was the highlight of the day—there had been days Erik had almost wanted an asteroid to hit them, just so there would at least be some excitement.

  Charles read the message from the Russian scientist aloud.

  Dear colleagues in space, if I may call you that.

  First of all, I have to clarify that our institute is under the supervision of the state. The RB Group is one of our clients. We carry out research assignments for it, and in return the corporation finances our work. That is no secret. Without third-party funding, top-level research has not been possible for quite some time now. I am only a department head and therefore, not responsible for answering your question.

  However, the data you might acquire would help me out a lot. If you agree to share it with me, I could justify returning the favor. I would not misuse your data. On the contrary, I can well imagine being able to handle my research budget more efficiently and asking more meaningful questions with the help of your data. Would you be willing to collaborate, using only encrypted channels?

  Yours respectfully, Oleg Tarasov.

  “That sounds promising,” Ethan said.

  “Absolutely. I agree,” Nuria said. “If he has this offer to make, it means that the Russians are really on their way to Venus. Otherwise he would not have anything to trade.”

  “He may be bluffing,” Charles pointed out.

  “There’s very little chance of that. He must know that he has to be the first party to deliver data. After all, three months will pass before we can send any data,” Nuria said.

  “Okay. If everyone agrees, I’ll accept his offer. Erik?”

  “Sure, Charles. I do not see how that would hurt us, and maybe it will help us.”

  “But I do have to report to my friend in the intelligence service, as well,” Charles said. “After all, he mentioned the Russian mission to me first.”

  “Yes, ‘you scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours,’” Ethan affirmed.

  February 22, 2079, Venus Air

  Their goal was simply not getting any closer. Of course, Erik could read the numbers on the screen. According to them, they were covering a distance each day that was longer than any trip he had ever undertaken. But whenever he got Venus on the screen, it didn’t look any more prominent than on the previous day. To the naked eye, it was still a very bright star. Through the eyepiece of the telescope you could see a round disc, but no details.

  This frustrating aspect of space travel—the endless rut, the boredom—was not dealt with during their training. It had, of course, been mentioned, but it remained an abstract concept. How could one prepare astronauts for this? One would have to confine the ASCANs for three weeks to a windowless chamber, and not assign them any fulfilling tasks, only pointless activities that were repeated day after day—waking up, washing, eating, exercising, eating, cleaning, washing, going to bed. Nothing was created, and nothing happened worth remembering the next day. Erik caught himself wishing for some accident. Nothing terrible, of course, just a little variety.

  He spent most of his time alone. There were always at least two astronauts awake, but while one of them performed exercises to stay fit, the other one must clean, and vice versa. The exercise corner was set up in the module under the control center and could only accommodate one person. Cleaning was necessary all over the spaceship.

  Erik had thought that there would be less dust in conditions of zero gravity, but the opposite was true, due—he figured—to the dry air. The dust became electrically charged, and thus was attracted to the numerous metallic surfaces. However, the daily cleaning ritual had the advantage of ensuring that each square centimeter of the ship was examined regularly. If something were to break, it would be quickly noticed.

  Erik yawned and then looked at the clock. His shift would last nearly another two hours. Ethan was currently slogging away in the exercise corner. The pilot was very serious about his physical fitness and proud of his muscles. Erik didn’t care about his own appearance. The main thing was that his body worked. He lay down on his armchair in the command center. The large screens that showed the view of outer space in front of the ship gave one the impression of being in the bow of the Venus Air. In fact, a spaceship was in front of the bow, the ship that would bring them into Venus’s atmosphere. He longed for that, but also feared the long journey that would follow.

  For 30 days, they’d have action around the clock—and then once again the daily routine of ship’s life for ten months. Maybe the Russians were flying in a spaceship with fusion engines. Didn’t Charles say that? He would ask them point-blank if they had space for an extra passenger on the return journey. Erik laughed. He knew these were meaningless thoughts.

  It was a good thing that there were only four people on board. That way they could easily avoid getting in each other’s way. Otherwise, he would have already clashed with Ethan. The pilot treated him and Nuria like little kids.

  February 23, 2079, Venus Air

  “Erik, are you listening to me? Erik?”

  He opened his eyes. Who was calling him? A red light was flashing in the cabin. That meant there was an alarm!

  “What’s wrong?”

  “We’ve been notified of a solar storm,” he heard Nuria say. “The shielding of the cabin can’t withstand that. So I have to bring you back inside.”

  “Sure, go ahead! Is it dangerous?”

  “No, we have enough time. We’re safe behind the water tank.”

  The freshwater tanks were attached to the rear of the workshop module on both sides of the ship’s hull. But he first had to get there.

  He felt the cabin move inward. Then a hard jerk went through the structure.

  “Damn,” Nuria said, “the cabin is stuck on your side.”

  “This can’t be happening! Who built this? “Erik said, clearly agitated.

  “Stay calm. We’ll solve the problem,” Nuria assured him.

  It remained quiet for a while. Then there was a jolt, then another.

  “Erik?” That was Charles’ voice. If the commander personally intervened, that was probably not a good sign.

  “I’m still here,” he replied.

  “That’s good,” Charles said. “One should never lose one’s sense of humor.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “The bars on which your cabin sits are completely tilted, I’m afraid.”

  “And what does that mean?”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll bring you two inside one at a time. But first, Ethan.”

  “Yes, get me,” Ethan said.

  “And then me?” Erik asked.

  “Of course. There is still enough time. The other cabin is less tilted. That will not be a problem.”

  “Lucky Ethan,” Erik said.

  “As for you, afterward we’ll have more time.”

  Erik placed his ear against the wall. Every now and then he heard a clattering sound. Then Nuria got in touch with him again. “Have a little more patience,” she said.

  “That’s easy for you to say.”

  “There are still thirty minutes left before the solar storm arrives.”

  “Very reassuring,” Erik replied. “And why aren’t you bringing me inside?”

  “Ethan is inside now.”

  “Good for him.”

  “Let me finish. Ethan’s cabin is inside now and yours isn’t, giving the ship an imbalance. It’s not rotating in a circle anymore. You understand that, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So we have to pump out the weight-balancing water from your cabin.”

  “Great. You’re even taking away my remaining radiation protection?”

  “T
here is no other way,” Nuria said. “Otherwise we risk endangering the ship. After that, we will try to bring you inside.”

  “Did you just say ‘try,’ Nuria?” His voice trailed off.

  “Now, don’t weigh my every word.”

  “Hey, I’m out here, completely without protection from radiation exposure. If you don’t hurry, I’ll be grilled.”

  “I know, Erik. We really are doing what we can.”

  “Yeah, we’ll succeed. Believe me,” Ethan said.

  “The pole is tilted so much that it’s a real feat of strength,” Charles said. “Good that we have Ethan here now. We’re taking turns.”

  There was a jolt. Erik could sense that the cabin moved inward, very slowly, based upon the decrease in the faux gravitational force created by the rotation. He looked at his watch and was startled. “Guys, this is too slow,” he said.

  “We can’t work any faster,” Ethan replied.

  “You have to stay very calm,” Charles added.

  But Erik was not calm. Quite the contrary. He did not want to be roasted by the sun. Why had he wished for excitement? How stupid could I have been? he thought feverishly.

  Then an idea came to him—the idea. “Nuria, you have to get into your AV,” he said.

  “But then I won’t be able to assist here.”

  “That doesn’t matter. The AV is as strong as the three of you. It will bring me inside easily.”

  “You’re right, Erik. I should have thought of that myself. Give me two minutes.”

  Erik looked at the clock. Ten minutes to the solar storm, if the forecast is correct.

  “I’m in,” Nuria reported by radio. “You’ll be out of there in a moment.”

  “Stop,” Charles said. “You’ve just aced it. The AV will just destroy the pole system’s brakes.”