The Clouds of Venus: Hard Science Fiction

by Brandon Q. Morris

  “What’s the worst thing that can happen?” Maria asked. “I like to imagine the worst-case scenario. Any other option is then, by default, an improvement.”

  “A good question,” Marchenko said. “The only really alarming situation that could arise would be a failure of all DFDs. But there are six of them plus a back-up system.”

  “That’s reassuring,” Maria said.

  “And now a few details about the flight,” Marchenko said, changing to an intonation characteristic of a pilot’s voice. “We’ll be traveling for at least eighteen days, and will not reach the maximum cruising speed of the ship. So that Venus can capture us, we will only accelerate to half the maximum speed, about thirty kilometers per second, then keep flying at that speed for most of the journey, and subsequently brake.

  “Measured against previous expeditions, the travel time is very short, but this ship is also suitable for long flights. We have devised a special exercise and culture regimen so that the crew doesn’t get bored. Get ready for surprises! And now I wish you a good flight.”

  There was a beep.

  “We’re about to separate,” Marchenko said.

  The ship rattled and hissed. Peter imagined hatches closing and locking mechanisms being released. He saw a screen above his seat and pulled it downward. “Look, there’s an on-board program, too,” he said to Maria.

  On the display, he switched back and forth between different cameras. He saw how the load arms of the station gave the ship an impetus that worked against the station’s direction of flight. As a result, the distance between the station and the spaceship grew.

  After about ten minutes, he felt a slight jolt stemming from the front. That must have been the control engines of the spaceship. It moved away from the station a little more quickly and turned so that the engines were pointing away from the station. The chemical engines ignited briefly every now and then and took the ship to a higher orbit.

  Finally, they reached the starting position. The DFDs ignited and pushed the Strelka toward Venus.

  May 21, 2079, Strelka, Venus Transfer

  Peter was puzzled. To prepare for the start, they had lain down on the special seats, and were thus lying parallel to the direction of flight. But inertia wasn’t trying to push him off his seat. Instead, it acted as evenly on his body as if he was seated perpendicular to the direction of flight.

  “Marchenko, is it possible that we have turned?” he asked.

  “Yes, by ninety degrees,” replied the AI. “Your capsule is located in the center of a gimbal, whose axes can be released or blocked individually or in groups as needed. The sleeping, dining, and hygiene cabins are located in the outer area of the suspension system, and rotate in such a way that you have at least half Earth gravity at your disposal when sleeping and eating. The tanks with drinking water envelop this suspension and serve to protect against cosmic rays, as well as to preserve the symmetry of the moment of inertia.”

  Marchenko had expressed himself in a complicated fashion.

  “Do you understand all that?” asked Maria.

  “Imagine a ring,” Peter explained. “And now you take a smaller ring, which you attach to the outer ring with two rotating joints so that it can rotate freely.”

  “Okay,” Maria said.

  “Now you hang your cabin onto the inner ring. But you always place the joints at ninety degrees relative to the joints with which the inner ring is connected to the outer ring. “

  “I understand, so far.”

  “So, in which direction can the cabin turn?”

  “Hey, that’s clever. The cabin can rotate around its own hinge axis, but also together with the inner ring, when the inner ring is rotating around its own hinge axis.”

  “Not just together, but also simultaneously,” Marchenko said. “I could easily make you vomit with such rotations.”

  “Thank you for reminding us that you’re the boss here,” Peter said. “We won’t argue with you.”

  “And the water?” asked Maria.

  “Imagine that someone in a boat constantly makes it wobble. Naturally, that would impede its forward motion,” Peter said. “Marchenko can distribute the water in the system in such a way that everything is once again in perfect balance.”

  “Aha. That’s how easily one can explain this,” Maria said.

  “I understand,” Marchenko said. “I will try to express myself more clearly in the future. But what’s on the agenda next is your exercise regimen, which will keep you busy for most of our journey.”

  Peter rolled his eyes. Maria raised an eyebrow. She understood him. Exercising had never been a great passion of hers either.

  “As you know, I’m a doctor. We cannot afford your arriving on Venus physically weakened. It is an Earth-like planet, but is extremely hostile to life. In an emergency, your level of physical fitness could make the difference between life and death. But don’t worry. I have put together a nice regimen for you.”

  The reclining seats moved aside on rails, and a flap in the floor opened. Two bulky devices emerged, unfolding with a soft humming sound.

  “All aboard!”

  Peter entered the right-side cabin. His suit was immediately hooked into a frame, and he assumed Maria’s was as well.

  “This technology pushes you toward the ground. We will begin with a load that corresponds to gravity on Earth.”

  “Begin? That makes me nervous,” Maria said.

  “The load is increased little by little. How about starting with a stroll through Moscow?”

  “Oh, yes!” Maria said. “A shopping excursion through the GUM would be nice.”

  Peter said nothing. Did she really believe that Marchenko would send her to the huge department store?

  “I’d like to go to Lake Baikal, but in the summer, please, not in winter. And no tourists.”

  “You have to agree on one hologram, unfortunately. I could create a different hologram for each of you, but the simulation software that produces the images consumes a lot of resources.”

  “Oh,” Maria said. “So you don’t like shopping?”

  Haha, Peter thought, and you don’t like hiking around Lake Baikal?

  “Shopping is work, not a leisure activity. And it’s just a simulation anyway. What you see isn’t real.”

  “Lake Baikal wouldn’t be real, either. But can’t we separate? We’ll meet again somewhere at an appointed time,” Maria said.

  It was clear she wouldn’t agree to go to Lake Baikal, so he might as well consent. The earlier they started, the sooner they would complete their exercise session.

  “Agreed,” he said. At least he could then rummage around in the technology section, instead of getting bored in the clothing departments.

  The simulation began. Maria spent a surprisingly short amount of time in the department store. Virtual window shopping was evidently different from shopping in real life. Afterward they strolled across Red Square and visited the Kremlin. Depending on how they moved on the treadmill, their location and field of view changed.

  When they left the Tretyakov Gallery behind, Maria took Peter’s hand virtually and pulled him into a café. She sat down and ordered a cup of tea. Peter was curious about what would happen next, and not just concerning the restaurant. Maria seemed to like him. He sat down next to her, and it almost felt like a date. The waiter brought the drinks a short time later. Maria put the cup to her mouth and swallowed.

  “And?” Peter asked.

  “There’s real tea in my mouth,” she said, “but it’s lukewarm.”

  “Then I’ll forego the coffee,” Peter said.

  The cup that the waiter had just placed in front of him vanished into thin air. Maria was more courageous, for she ordered food.

  The pancake arrived. Maria cut off a piece with a fork and put it into her mouth. She then grimaced.

  Peter laughed.

  “That would take lots of getting used to,” Maria said.

  Their stroll took them to the banks of the Mos
kva River, but they were both already pretty exhausted. Peter sat down in a meadow and lay back, flat on the ground. He was pleasantly surprised to find that this worked, too. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

  The dull rumbling of thunder startled him. Maria, too, seemed disoriented.

  “Unfortunately, there is a thunderstorm,” explained Marchenko.

  “Before I get completely soaked in Moscow, I would rather go on a paddleboat tour on the Volga,” Peter said. “How about it, Maria?”

  His colleague nodded. Their positions changed within the frame, and he found himself holding a paddle in his hand. He dipped it into the water and rowed with it. He had to use all his strength. Is Maria having the same difficulties?

  “This is quite difficult,” he complained.

  “You are paddling upstream. After all, you are supposed to be training,” Marchenko answered.

  Marchenko stopped the simulation after a time period they experienced as three hours, and they stepped out of the cabins to find themselves back in the command module. The training equipment folded up and disappeared into the floor.

  “How long did we exercise?” Peter asked.

  “Ninety-seven minutes,” Marchenko replied. “The best thing to do would be to take a shower now, and then meet for a meal in the kitchen module.”

  “Marchenko, you must check your system clock. We spent at least four hours exercising.”

  The AI did not react.

  “See you later,” Peter said.

  “Yes, see you soon,” answered Maria, and unlike Peter, she even managed to smile.

  May 22, 2079, Strelka, Venus Transfer

  There was a buzz at the door.

  Peter rolled over and hugged the pillow over his ear. He was not going to open the door.

  Again he heard the buzzing sound.

  He threw the pillow against the door, turned to the bedside table, and displayed the image from the camera on the alarm clock screen. Anastasia was outside! A rocket launcher and a submachine gun hung around her delicate neck. She smiled and formed the word ‘bang’ with her lips.

  Peter bolted upright, startled. The alarm clock was going beep-beep, beep-beep, beep-beep. Then there was silence—make that near-silence, because he could hear a dull sound, thump-thump, thump-thump. He placed a hand on his chest. The thumping was his heart.

  Anastasia was far away.

  He breathed in and out deeply. He then unbuckled and went to the bathroom. His first steps were arduous. His muscles were aching, with a level of soreness he had not felt in ages. They were even painful in places where he didn’t realize he had muscles.

  He pressed the button at the entrance of the shower cubicle, but the button only vibrated stubbornly and didn’t release the door—meaning water needed to be pumped into the tanks first. Did Maria take another hours-long shower?

  A beep and a green light showed him that he could now enter.

  Peter met Maria in the kitchen module. Her hair was damp. She was quite a bit younger than himself, but was obviously struggling with similar problems. He should feel sorry for her, but he couldn’t suppress a certain sense of relief.

  “Good morning, Maria,” he mumbled, and she muttered something incomprehensible in return, while she slowly moved her shoulders.

  “No matter what we do today,” she whispered, “there will definitely be no paddleboat tour. Not on the Volga, not on the Moskva River, nor anywhere else! What about a hike around Lake Baikal?”

  Three sentences in a row. That was more than he could manage so soon after awakening. He just smiled and nodded.

  After they had finished their breakfast, a surprise awaited them. Their recliners had been altered, and there was a partition between them.

  “Good morning! I hope you slept well,” Marchenko declared. “Please go to your recliners now, undress, and lie down on them.”

  “What’s this about?” Maria asked.

  “Get ready for a surprise. You will like it.”

  Maria disappeared behind the partition. Peter’s sweater crackled as he pulled it over his head. The air up here was awfully dry.

  As soon as they were lying naked on the warmed metal foil, a lid slid over them, covering their bodies from their feet to their necks just below their chins. Peter felt a little uncomfortable because he suddenly felt moisture on his encased body.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “A special cream developed by RB for ‘Project Immortality.’”

  “Are we now the company’s guinea pigs, too? That’s not in my employment contract.”

  “No, don’t worry, the boss himself was the first guinea pig,” Marchenko said. “The cream is currently in the process of being approved. It did not give Shostakovich immortality, but it proved to be an excellent remedy for aching muscles.”

  After their bodies were moistened, soft rollers came out from the casing and massaged their skin with pleasant pressure from all sides.

  “Oh, a massage,” Peter said. “This is pleasant.”

  “Have I delivered on my promise?” Marchenko asked.

  Peter didn’t answer. He luxuriated in the massage, and the warmth made him doze off.

  The capsule opened, and Peter shivered. He stroked the skin of his forearm, since the cream had been completely absorbed. He quickly got dressed. “How long did the massage last?” he asked.

  “Two hours,” Maria said. “You were snoring.”

  “I never snore!” Peter said.

  “Should I play the video recorded by the camera?” Marchenko asked.

  “Don’t you dare!”

  “I’ll make the partition more sound-proof tomorrow,” the AI said.

  “Thank you,” Maria replied. “The sore muscles are almost gone! I didn’t realize I had signed onto a wellness spaceship.”

  Her enthusiasm was contagious.

  “The cream contains a mild analgesic,” explained Marchenko, “so that you two don’t complain so much during your upcoming workout.”

  So he did not intend to spare them today. Wasn’t simulated gravity enough to prevent a loss of bone density?

  “We’ll take a break today,” Peter said. Maybe Marchenko will take pity on us?

  “Not a chance. I am responsible for your well-being, and my Hippocratic Oath forces me to place you on the treadmill.”

  So, he did not feel sorry for them. At some point, Peter would take revenge on his tormentor. But today he obeyed Marchenko’s instructions and stepped onto the treadmill.

  May 31, 2079, Venus Air

  “Look what I have,” Nuria said. Her head was hovering over her screen, and she was typing on the keypad.

  Erik’s display suddenly showed photos of Venus, but these looked very different from the telescope pictures he had already seen. “How did you do that?” he asked.

  “A bit of image editing, that’s all. I translated the data from the infrared and ultraviolet cameras into the optical domain. What you see are false colors, chosen to show the structure of the atmosphere more clearly.”

  Erik looked at the photos, the first time during their long flight that he was able to see current depictions of their destination. A dynamic zone with numerous storms stretched from the equator to the temperate latitudes. It looked like a grotesquely accelerated weather picture of Earth.

  “It looks as if Venus is on speed,” Ethan said.

  “It is, we know that. Due to the greenhouse effect and the proximity to the sun, there is so much energy in the atmosphere that such effects are to be expected,” Nuria explained.

  “Reminds me of enlarged pictures of hurricanes,” Ethan said. “Did you know that Chuck Norris once hit a hurricane in the eye?”

  His jokes aren’t getting any better, Erik thought.

  “Except that these storms are active all year round, and not just in the tropics,” Nuria said. “Their speed is 360 kilometers per hour! Let’s hope that climate warming on Earth doesn’t have such consequences.”

  Nobody answered.

/>   “The bright blue in the UV images comes from sulfur dioxide in the upper atmosphere,” Nuria continued. “When it mixes with water vapor, it turns into sulfuric acid. This is really a witch’s cauldron. The volcanoes are the most probable source of the sulfur dioxide. It’s amazing how much the entire atmosphere swirls and mixes.”

  “As if someone were stirring it with an enormous spoon,” Erik said.

  “The sun wields the spoon,” Nuria said. She typed again on the screen. “Okay, now I’ve zoomed into the night side. Do you see that radiance?” she asked.

  “Wow, Venus is glowing,” Ethan said.

  “It’s a video taken using the infrared spectrum,” Nuria explained. “It’s sweltering under the clouds, and the storms quickly balance out day and night temperatures. The fact that one side remains dark for almost sixty days hardly affects surface conditions.”

  “Except for the fact that it’s dark,” Charles said.

  “Haha,” Nuria said.

  “I’m glad we’re not landing,” Ethan said. “Two months of total darkness, I wouldn’t like that.”

  “Hey now, think like Chuck Norris,” Charles said. “He isn’t afraid of the dark, because the darkness is afraid of him! But we’ll return after thirty days anyway. I think that by then we’ll have spent more than enough time in that hellish place. And since everyone is gathered here now, I’d like to announce that from tomorrow onward there will be no more cleaning and exercising. Instead, we’ll start preparing the spaceship.”

  June 1, 2079, Venus Air

  “Hey, be careful,” Nuria scolded.

  “Sorry.” Erik pushed away from the scaffold and briefly activated the jetpack, flying after a loose clasp that was spinning slowly toward the sun. He caught it with his right hand, turned around, and flew back to the ship.

  They needed to decouple the moorings left over from the launch from Earth to get the spaceship ready for take-off. Normally, they would have had to wear suits and undertake a spacewalk—officially called extra-vehicular activity, or EVA—but thanks to the AVs, they could avoid doing so. Nuria and Erik lay comfortably in their seats while the remote-controlled machines performed the task.