Maria and Peter followed her signal. They got into an armored limousine, which was accompanied by other vehicles. Peter didn’t want to know what equipment the escort vehicles possessed, but at least he felt safe.
“Before you two return, we will have captured Anastasia Yurkova,” Valentina promised.
“I hope so,” Peter said. “She has escaped twice, and we still do not know where she is.”
Maria nodded in agreement.
“She will come to us.”
“When?” asked Peter.
“Today. She knows you’re launching, and she knows by now that Maria is flying with you. Lazarev ordered a complete inspection of all IT systems in his sphere of influence at the FSB, and they found backdoors. However, rather than closing them, they encapsulated them and provided Anastasia with specific information that would be of interest to her—of course, hidden in a sea of trivia. I know she will come.”
“So we’re the bait,” Peter growled. Then an idea came to him. “If that works,” he said, “we’d have done our job and could leave the rocket and return right away, instead of launching with it. The FSB captures Anastasia, and everything’s fine.”
“We don’t know if we’ll be able to nab her this time. But we have to lure her out of her hiding place to eventually catch her. Besides, both of you have a mission, and even if we apprehend Anastasia, Maria’s problem has not been solved.”
Peter remained silent. He hadn’t been thinking about Maria and he felt bad about that.
“You’re going straight to the space station, and we’ll make sure you reach it.”
Ivan Lazarev put on a sensor hood and observed the environment. Anastasia would be wearing the protective suit with camouflage capability, but if she wanted to attack, she would need equipment, and that was not easily made invisible. For this very reason, it was unlikely that she would unnecessarily cross open spaces.
Lazarev had cleverly distributed the FSB units around the spaceport. They were spaced closely enough to look like a complete shielding of the area. And yet he had left a gap. Anastasia would find it and use it, and they would close the gap in a timely fashion. But she had not yet come—at least, he had not been able to find her.
Anastasia Yurkova carefully pushed the ramp upward and corrected every little slippage of the camouflage cover, no matter how small. She finally reached the right location. Sweating profusely, she crawled under the tarp and attached the ramp to the ground. When she took off her suit at some point, she feared her enemies would be able to smell her for kilometers. But it hadn’t come to that point yet. She stroked the rocket, which had cost her some unpleasant sex.
“You will reach your destination,” she whispered. “The towers with the laser cannons will not be able to aim accurately enough when the Earth shakes as the shuttle launches. And once you’ve reached the cloud of smoke from the running shuttle engines, nothing will be able to stop you.”
But she had to wait for the right moment. If she started her guided missile too early, Lazarev’s lasers would destroy it before it could disappear into the cloud of smoke that the lasers could not penetrate. But she mustn’t start too late either, because once the shuttle with Peter aboard lifted off, it would accelerate so that her missile would not be able to carry out its mission—an optimization problem that she must and would solve.
There was a loud noise, and the Earth began to tremble. Anastasia pulled the camouflage foil off the rocket, ran a few meters, and took cover in a depression. The time had come. She launched the rocket. The guided missile sought its target autonomously, but could also be controlled by Anastasia.
Lazarev’s people only needed a few seconds to recognize the danger. Then the laser guns attacked. Machine-gun fire hit the ramp, a few meters from Anastasia, but the depression’s raised edge protected her. She made the rocket fly in flat, serpentine curves so it would be more challenging to hit. The engines of the launching shuttle made the ground shudder, making it difficult for Lazarev’s laser cannons to aim at her guided missile. At least at first. But after just one second, the defense towers struck their target.
“Dammit!”
A flash of light, then a bang. Her missile had exploded without reaching its target. She had lost. Peter was on his way into space, and she had to leave immediately! She felt a rush of adrenaline. Anastasia heard the dull chugging of a combat helicopter getting closer. She adjusted her helmet to show her the safe path through the swath of forest and started running.
Suddenly she saw the helicopter. She froze, knowing that if she did not move, the suit nearly perfectly camouflaged her. Why was the helicopter flying so high up? It couldn’t harm her from such a distance! She then saw the bomb attached to its underside. She felt ice cold. Anastasia looked around and jumped into the closest ditch. If the bomb didn’t strike her precise location, the suit would be able to protect her.
There was a bang, but not as loud as expected, given the size of the bomb. Anastasia looked up carefully. It was a cluster bomb that was in the process of delivering hundreds of small bombs. They were spread out over the whole area. She could escape them—none of these mini-bombs posed a threat to her in her special suit. Anastasia remained in the ditch, lying on the ground.
She recognized the real danger too late. The mini bombs exploded, releasing billions of tiny paint droplets. Anastasia started running. Maybe she could still reach the cover under which she had previously hidden the launch pad. But it was too late. The drops of paint settled on trees and shrubs, on the ground, and on her camouflage suit. Now everyone could see her. She was a simple target.
The helicopter turned. Her suit was powerless against its air-to-ground missiles. The pilot was probably pressing the launch button at that very moment. Anastasia ran for her life. She had to reach the forest! Maybe it would offer protection from the missiles. Maybe. Only 25 meters left to the forest. Only 20.
A warning lit up in her helmet, indicating a rocket was behind her. The exoskeleton propelled her forward at superhuman speed. Ten more meters to the undergrowth. A loud beep warned her of the impact of the rocket, so she jumped to the side and rolled. But her pursuers had foreseen the evasive maneuver. The rocket hit close to Anastasia. The explosion lifted her, and a sea of metal splinters spilled over her. Most of them only damaged the suit without hurting her. But a small fragment hit an already damaged area of the suit where it covered her lower costal arch, and the fragment penetrated her body. She screamed in pain, but nobody could hear it.
She struck the ground twice. She struggled to her feet and ran the last few meters into the forest. A second rocket hit a tree, its trunk splintering into thousands of pieces. Lazarev wanted to take no prisoners. The helicopter landed. They would follow her on foot. The wound would continuously radiate heat, so she could not hide. And she was losing blood. A lot of blood. Anastasia felt it running down her body inside the suit.
She suddenly stopped and walked back a few steps. She had discovered a cleft in a hill. Small and inconspicuous, but big enough to disappear into. She switched to infrared and peered into the cleft. Nothing indicated the presence of an animal. Anastasia slipped into the cleft, turned around, pulling down some thin branches on nearby shrubs and securing them with two stones. The entrance was almost invisible.
Anastasia’s strength was dwindling. She retreated into the interior of the cave. It was much larger than she’d expected. There was still snow and ice in the middle of the cave. She dragged herself behind a ledge and lay down exhausted. Even here, she would not freeze as long as she wore the suit. She still had a trump card up her sleeve, nearly literally. Anastasia reached into one of the camouflage suit’s pockets. This trump card would sting. But she would have to use it before she bled to death.
May 19, 2079, Earth Orbit
Peter stared at the screen. The time it took for the space shuttle to dock with the station felt like an eternity. But he was thrilled. He studied the speed of the shuttle and the maneuvers prior to docking. The maneuvers decrea
sed in scale, becoming more precise. He was extremely impressed by the level of precision involved. And focusing on the docking maneuver had a pleasant side effect—his nausea was gradually subsiding.
Unlike him, Maria had already unfastened her seatbelt and was making her first acquaintance with weightlessness. Peter didn’t have to ask her. He could see it. She was fine, no traces of nausea, and she was quite obviously enjoying herself. It made him smile.
There was a slight rumble, and a clacking sound revealed to him that the shuttle had docked. Peter unbuckled and moved cautiously to the airlock. Maria had arrived there ahead of him. She had already gained enough experience after her short practice time that she could purposefully control her movements in zero gravity. Peter still needed his own practice.
Maria came back, turned expertly, took Peter by the hand and pulled him toward the airlock.
“Dobro pazhalovat,” a station staff member greeted them. “We’ll unload your shuttle now and bring your luggage to the freight room of your spaceship to Venus. In the meantime, you can look around the station’s recreation room and practice eating and drinking. Down there, third door on the right.”
Peter and Maria floated in the direction of the recreation room. Just before Maria reached the door, it opened of its own accord, and a padded plank slid out from the frame partway into the corridor, clearly a precaution for visitors who were dealing with weightlessness for the first time.
Maria floated along the wall, staying close to it. She grasped the doorframe in order to make a right turn and pull herself into the room, but she had underestimated her momentum. Even though she had curved a bit toward the room, she had at the same time flown straight onward, so that her body made a wide arc. The plank prevented her from bumping hard against the doorframe on the far side.
Peter observed Maria’s maneuver and tried to learn from her mistakes. He decided to float more slowly than she had. He carefully pushed off from the exterior wall of the recreation room, tucked his knees to his chest, made a slow 90-degree turn, and planted his feet on the left-hand wall of the corridor. Now all he had to do was balance the rotation. He was successful because he was moving slowly enough. He pushed off again carefully and floated through the door. Only his left upper arm brushed against the edge of the doorframe.
But, how was he supposed to stop now? He collided with the wall on the far side of the room, grateful that it was also padded.
Peter grabbed a conveniently located handhold to keep from rebounding off the wall and stabilized himself. He began watching the unloading of the shuttle, which he was able to view via a hologram generated in the room. In addition to equipment, food, water, and oxygen, he saw they had also brought fuel for the station and the shuttles that came here. The fuel was siphoned off through an opening on the side of their shuttle. At the moment, a robot was coupling the station with the shuttle’s tank. The robots had eight legs and moved like spiders between the space station and the spaceship.
Peter suddenly stopped short. He zoomed in on the unloading process and realized that it was Katarina’s turn. He floated quickly to the door, where he had to figure out how to slow down again. He reached the corridor just in time, because the crewmember in charge of the cargo transfers wanted to take his robot in the wrong direction.
“Stop!” he shouted to the man, waving his arms to grab the guy’s attention. “The robot rides with us. It belongs in the passenger module. Please attach it there!”
“Are you sure?
“Yes, absolutely!”
“Okay, it’s your responsibility,” said the technician with a shrug. A short time later, he reappeared and pushed Katarina in Peter’s direction.
Peter floated himself back into the recreation room and had the hologram show the structure of their spaceship. He felt uncomfortable, not only because it was his first space flight, but also because he thought that he was not mentally prepared for the mission, given the great vastness of space, even though he’d had enough time in the weeks before the launch to familiarize himself with space flight and the planet that was their destination. He was also worried about Maria, who, despite her initial reservations, was dealing with this journey with an ease and a trust in God that Peter could not understand. Or was he just taking it all too seriously? Maybe that was the case.
The reproduction of the ship appeared, and Peter shooed away his thoughts. The landing module was located in the front section of the spaceship. The module was not only supposed to take them to Venus’s surface, but also bring them back to Earth. Their lounge area was located in the ship’s central section, surrounded by a huge reservoir filled with water. The rest of the spaceship was designated as storage space, which—and this amazed Peter—was mostly empty. Clearly, they were supposed to bring far less freight to Venus than they were to carry on their return trip.
A picture popped into the hologram and interrupted his thoughts. It was Valentina Shostakovna. “I just wanted to wish you two a good trip. And give you some...” she hesitated, “unpleasant news.”
“Anastasia escaped again?”
“Yes, you guessed it. She eluded the FSB once more, but don’t blame the agents. Their trap was impeccably planned and executed almost perfectly, but Anastasia once again had tremendous luck. Enjoy the trip. By the time you return, we will have captured her.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Peter murmured, so softly that he barely heard it himself.
“Once again, all the best and good luck. We have planned some surprises for the two of you. I hope you like them.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, just let yourself be surprised!”
Smiling, Valentina vanished from the hologram.
Shortly thereafter, a staff member of the station entered the room. “I hope you have enjoyed getting accustomed to weightlessness. In ten minutes you can take possession of your spaceship. I admit that I’m a little jealous. I have never had such a marvelous ship at my disposal. Just go down the corridor toward the airlock and then get your gear. You will enter the spaceship through the cargo area.”
May 20, 2079, Earth Orbit
Three seats in the four-person capsule were occupied. Katarina had been strapped into the seat on the far right, and Peter was seated on the far left with Maria to his immediate right. The two of them had already fastened their seatbelts. Something was humming behind Peter. It must be the engines of his seat, he figured, in the process of adapting to his body. The better the fit, the more evenly the pressure would be distributed across his back.
“Welcome aboard!”
The voice sounded familiar to Peter. Of course—it’s Marchenko! He felt a weight lift from his mind. Marchenko had already completed two long expeditions. He must have had many adventures. Peter hoped Marchenko would tell them stories about his travels.
“I am really delighted! A warm welcome in return,” Peter replied.
“Thank you! I was glad to accept the invitation,” Marchenko said. “It certainly cannot hurt to have someone on board with practical experience in space travel and a sound understanding of DFDs.”
“Do you know Marchenko?” Peter asked Maria.
She shook her head.
“He’s practically a legend among cosmonauts,” Peter said. “He spent over two years in an alien intelligence.”
“Oh, that Marchenko. I was thinking of a bearded, broad-shouldered man,” Maria said.
“Oh, you are speaking of the human being, the original Marchenko. I’m not sure what happened to him. He should be around eighty by now. Surely too old for a flight to Venus.”
“I would nevertheless prefer the human being,” Maria said. “I can’t really warm up to AIs. It’s no coincidence that I became a bio-chemist.”
“Umm, he’s listening in, you do realize that, don’t you?” Peter said.
“That’s okay,” Marchenko said. “I sometimes wish I was a human, too. But then again, I’m glad to be able to do so many things that a biological being cannot.�
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“Can you tell us something about the Strelka? Valentina says the ship belongs to a whole new generation.”
“You will discover most of the ship’s novel features during the flight,” Marchenko said. “I do not want to reveal so much that it would spoil your sense of anticipation. We will be traveling for eighteen days, after all. But I’ll start with the basic features.
“RB has succeeded in producing a carbon fiber material that is hard as stone, and yet flexible as plastic, regardless of temperature. It is extremely pressure and heat-resistant, and also resistant to most chemicals. Not only are the spaceship and lander made from it, but your high-pressure suits for visiting Venus’s surface are also made of it.
“The shell which envelops the spaceship was also recently developed. It has the ability to change its shape in a fraction of a second in such a manner that any threatening asteroids can be diverted. Of course, the protection this affords is not complete, but the simulations show successful protection 98 percent of the time. In the case of smaller impacts, the holes even close by themselves due to the heat generated when the asteroid slows down.”
“Certainly a bestseller,” Peter said.
“It will depend on how successful we are,” Marchenko said. “This is the prototype and the premiere.”
“And if the shell fails?” asked Maria.
“There is a completely normal spaceship beneath the shell. Therefore, it’s no less safe than previously.”
“Who’s piloting the ship?” Peter asked.
“I’ll take you to Venus safely. But if something goes wrong, you’ll be given manual control.”
“Me at the controls of a spaceship? Well, thanks a lot,” Peter said.
“All you have to do is implement Ground Control’s orders.”
“If we’re far away, it will take fifteen minutes for us to get an answer from Ground Control,” Peter said.
The Clouds of Venus: Hard Science Fiction Page 10
