The Death of the Universe: Rebirth: Hard Science Fiction (Big Rip Book 3)

by Brandon Q Morris

  He looked at her in consternation.

  “Man, I’m joking!”

  Sasha didn’t reply. He must have still looked incredulous, because she leaned across the table toward him and grabbed both his hands. He could see the tops of her breasts at the neckline of her blouse. He tried to force himself to look away, but he couldn’t.

  “Do you think I’d do something like that?” she asked.

  “I... uh... No.” He felt ashamed of his stammering.

  “Well, that’s good. The librarian is actually a seventy-year-old woman! Now, have a look at this article. It’s called ‘The Sensitivity of the Dicke Radiometer,’ and was written by a certain David F. Wait.”

  He looked at the text and tried to read it. But it took him a while to decipher the Latin letters and he hardly understood any of it.

  He was of no use to her. “Sorry, but my English...”

  “I can read the English myself. I’d like to know what you think of the equations.”

  Equations? He ran his finger down the page, leaving behind a blue smudge. He had to be more careful—the copies were quite fresh.

  And there it was, the first equation: ys(t)=a1(t)y1(t)+a2(t)y2(t)+yn(t)

  “An amplification equation,” he said.

  “It gets interesting from page 131,” said Yekaterina. “And when it gets to the Fourier transformations I’m lost. I always hated mathematics.”

  He flipped through the pages. And in fact he began to understand more and more of what the author had written, even without understanding a word of the English. The language of mathematics was truly universal. Shouldn’t this give them hope for the message hidden in the background radiation?

  He positively flew through the equations. This was what he was born to do. It was a shame the work ended at page 152.

  “And? What do you think?”

  He touched his hands to his cheeks. His face was glowing. “The work is faultless. Thank you for showing it to me. I should spend more time in the library.”

  “Does that mean I’m right?”

  “About the broadband correlator? Yes, that’s clear.”

  “Good, then we’ll go straight to Komikov tomorrow morning and request permission to rebuild the measuring instrument.”

  March 22, 1984, Tyuratam

  The sky in the east was gradually turning gray. The moon, almost full, illuminated the expansive landscape in a pallid glow. The horizon was so far away! The Earth’s sphere seemed double the size out here. In Moscow, the night sky was either light brown or gray—unless there was a power interruption. But even in the countryside, at his mother’s, he felt hemmed in by the trees pressing in from all sides.

  In the steppe he was free, even if he needed permission to enter and leave the spaceport compound. Sasha turned around. The western horizon was still black. Otherwise he’d be able to see the scaffold that supported the next Molniya rocket. Today it was supposed to be crowned with the Prognoz 9b satellite. This secret mission would never feature in any history book. They were going to try to postpone it.

  Sasha knocked on the dezhurnaya’s bungalow door. She must already be awake because light was shining through the cracks in the kitchen shutters. The door opened.

  “Already up so early, boy?”

  He nodded. “Good morning, Valentina. I apologize for last night. I didn’t check in with you.”

  She beckoned him to come inside. He took off his hat, scarf, and jacket, and stepped first into the hallway and then into the kitchen. The lid of the dryer was open and it smelled of fresh laundry.

  “You’re excused, just this once,” said the dezhurnaya. “I knew you were in good hands.”

  “What did you know?”

  “I watched you through the window—Andreyeva and you. You should close the shutters if you don’t want the whole compound to know what you’re up to.”

  “But how did you know I was with her?”

  “Come on, you asked me about her. I can put two and two together. You didn’t waste any time, boy—I didn’t expect that from you. Still waters and so on.”

  “And you were watching us in secret?”

  “Now you’re making me angry. You promised I’d hear about everything. But apparently I can’t rely on you!”

  He really would have to remember to close the shutters next time. Thanks for the tip, Valya.

  “Sorry, I take that back. From now on I’ll always report straight back to you.”

  “Good. And, did you? In this weather I can’t stand by the window the whole night.”

  “We read a scientific paper.”

  Lucky nothing had actually happened. He couldn’t keep anything secret from the dezhurnaya. She scrutinized him, but because he had a clear conscience he didn’t flinch.

  “That sounds exciting. Yes, yes, the youth of today. In my day we used to secretly roll cigarettes out of some kind of steppe weed used by shamans.”

  “Did it have any effect?”

  “I have no idea if it was the vodka or the weed that knocked us off our feet.”

  Valentina went to the sink, took out a bowl and a big spoon, and walked over to the stove with them. She spooned something from a large, black pot into the container.

  “Now, fortify yourself for the day,” she said, putting the bowl on the table.

  He sat down. The kasha had a strangely gluey consistency. He ate a spoonful, which was lukewarm and had an indiscernible flavor. Was that parsley? But then wouldn’t there be green specks in it?

  “Don’t be shy,” said the dezhurnaya. “There are only good things in it.”

  Yeah, the shamans’ weed probably. But if he questioned her culinary skills now, she’d be offended.

  There was a knock at the door, and the dezhurnaya left the kitchen. He took the opportunity to tip some of the kasha back into the pot. The mass didn’t recombine with the contents of the container. It just looked like he’d left a light brown mound on top of it. He quickly sat down again.

  Yekaterina entered the room and greeted him. She was wearing the suit that looked like a uniform. He preferred women to wear dresses, like his mother always had, but the outfit suited her. Maybe it was time he stopped holding up his mother as a paragon of the ideal woman.

  “Would you like a bowl, too?” asked the dezhurnaya.

  “No thanks, we need to go now,” replied Yekaterina.

  “That’s a shame. I thought we might talk for a while, my little dove.”

  “Another time. If we get there too late, the probe will already be on its way.”

  Sasha pushed away the bowl of porridge and stood up.

  “Good, let’s go.”

  It was now so light outside that their steaming breath was clearly visible. Yekaterina laughed.

  “What are you laughing about?”

  “I was just imagining these puffs of steam coming out of all our orifices in all weather. Wouldn’t that be funny? We’d walk around the place like steam locomotives.”

  Sasha smiled. “Or whales.”

  They were silent for a while. But it didn’t feel uncomfortable. Didn’t they say it was true love if you could be silent together without feeling awkward? But that was probably just a myth perpetuated by old couples who had nothing left to say to each other. Wasn’t it? Why was he even thinking like this? He was hardly going to find the woman of his dreams out here. That would be crazy.

  Yekaterina set a brisk pace. Despite the cold, he started to sweat and lagged behind a little.

  “Don’t dawdle,” said Yekaterina. “We have to intercept Komikov in time.”

  “Intercept?”

  “Well, did you think they’d let us get to him before the workday starts? Forget it. But I know he goes for a run every morning after he gets up, to stay fit. So we have to intercept him.”

  “Ah, I understand. Good plan. How do you know so much about his habits?”

  “Komikov wasn’t always here.”

  Yeah, of course, he knew that better than anyone. Sometimes a panel v
an used to stop outside the house at night. His mother would whisper in the hall and later he’d hear groaning coming from the bedroom. Then he knew his father had come home. But he’d usually disappeared again by the morning.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Before he took over the military space research, he was stationed in Leningrad. He met my mother there.”

  Sasha stopped in his tracks. His father was such a swine! Yekaterina was a few years older than he was. So Komikov must have already had another family when he met his mother—had she known? So, that was why he had never been there for him.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Yekaterina. “We have to keep going!”

  “Nothing,” he said, and started moving again. Yekaterina must be his half-sister. That was why she felt so familiar to him, and that was why they understood each other so well. Blood is thicker than water. You can only depend on family, his mother had always said.

  Lucky he hadn’t fallen in love with Yekaterina yet. And yet something pressed down on him, as though someone had just put a heavy pack on his back. He straightened up, and a sharp knife cut into his heart.

  As Yekaterina had predicted, they ran into the colonel general in front of his house. He was wearing brown sweats with an Army insignia, but his rank wasn’t visible. His forehead was covered in perspiration.

  “Ah, my best people,” he said, greeting them with a smile.

  Why hadn’t he introduced them to each other? Wasn’t that the least that family ties demanded? It was best he left the negotiating to Yekaterina today.

  “Good morning, Colonel General,” she said. She turned around. There was no one in sight. Then she linked arms with him. They walked away from the front door, around the house, and Sasha followed them like a faithful dog.

  “What is it so early in the morning? I’ve lit the stove for the bath and wanted to bathe in peace before commencing my duties,” said the general.

  “It’s about the Relikt measuring instrument. We need to make changes to it,” said Yekaterina.

  “Verkhodanov sees things differently, as does the chief technician at the Institute at home. I telephoned him personally yesterday after you expressed your concerns.”

  “Verkhodanov is an idiot.”

  “That’s not fair to say. He’s already headed up several successful projects. And he has experience with Relikt-1.”

  “He just finds good staff and then takes the credit for their success.”

  “That’s legitimate. It shows he’s a smart manager.”

  “Sasha thinks I’m right. You seem to respect his opinion.”

  Komikov stopped, turned to him and raised his eyebrows. “Et tu, Brute?” he asked theatrically.

  “The scientific work on the Dicke radiometer is flawless,” said Sasha.

  “That’s nice for the American who wrote it. Does that mean imperialist science isn’t fundamentally worthless?”

  “The conclusions are important for us, Colonel General. We shouldn’t be using a broadband correlator.”

  “But Verkhodanov says it increases the sensitivity more than tenfold.”

  “But that won’t give us anything,” said Sasha, “because the measurement data will be less reliable. We’d be making the invisible ink visible, but we wouldn’t know what letters the words are actually made up of. And then who knows what we’ll get out of them?”

  “I’m sorry, you two, but the schedule is unforgiving. The probe has to be on the rocket today. Otherwise we won’t be able to launch on time. Even if you’re right, we can’t afford any delays.”

  “But we could just launch a few days later,” said Yekaterina.

  “On April 3, Soyuz T-11 lifts off. The launch site has to be clean again for that. There’s just no room for postponement.”

  “Then Soyuz T-11 can fly a little later.”

  “That won’t work. We’ll have the first Indian on board. It’s political. India is an ally. You don’t keep allies waiting. Otherwise they’ll end up joining forces with the Americans.”

  “Real allies don’t simply switch sides.”

  “The Indians have always done their own thing. They’re one of the non-aligned countries not in the COMECON. This is complex politics you don’t understand. We wouldn’t even have an official reason for the postponement, because Prognoz 9 is classified.”

  “What do I have to do to convince you, Colonel General?”

  It was no use. The man was an apparatchik after all.

  “Nothing, Katya. The schedule is fixed. But I’m glad you two are working so well together.”

  They were on their way to the lab. Sasha had considered going back to bed and having a proper lie-in. They wouldn’t achieve anything else today anyway. But that somehow seemed wrong.

  “This is so annoying,” said Yekaterina.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Just imagine, we spend millions of rubles, and all we have to show for them is unusable data.”

  “I guess that’s how it has to be.”

  “It was so promising. What could be hidden there? Maybe someone wrote the history of the universe that came before ours. We could learn once and for all whether Marxism-Leninism is actually right.”

  “Mm, difficult.”

  Yekaterina stopped. “Why are you so monosyllabic today?”

  “Bad mood.” What else was he supposed to say? I almost fell in love with you, but then I figured out you’re my half-sister?

  Yekaterina stepped in front of him and put both her hands on his shoulders. Their steamy breath mingled and enveloped their heads. “Sasha, I like you,” she said. “I don’t know what it is. You’re not even my type. But I feel good when I’m with you. I think this could turn into something. Don’t mess it up.”

  He sighed. I like you, too, he was supposed to say now. Something like that. But it was useless. There was another reason for her feeling close to him—the wrong reason. He didn’t say anything. She looked him in the face for a while, as though she was waiting for something. Then she let go and turned away. Now she was disappointed. It hurt to see her like that, but he couldn’t do anything about it.

  “Do you know what?” asked Yekaterina.

  “What?”

  “We’ll build a new Relikt instrument. The rocket doesn’t launch for a few days. Maybe we can swap it out directly on the probe.”

  “You want to build a new measuring instrument and then climb up to the top of a fueled rocket, to modify the Prognoz 9b probe up there?”

  “It’s only 35 meters.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “That’s what my mother always used to say.”

  March 23, 1984, Tyuratam

  “Govno!” cried Sasha. Instinctively, he grabbed at the burning speck on his thigh, but that was a bad idea. Now he had hot solder on his fingers too!

  “Shh,” said Yekaterina. “Your shouting will bring the whole lab down on us.”

  The dezhurnaya had persuaded the sergeant at the entrance to give them a key to Lab T5. But she still wouldn’t reveal why she had so much influence with him. It was a tiny room, separated from Lab T4 by a boarded partition. There was a neon light, an old workbench, two chairs, and a whole lot of tools. Verkhodanov seemed pleased to be rid of them. In any case, he hadn’t asked them what they were up to. He was probably hoping to receive all the glory for the Relikt experiment himself.

  Yekaterina pulled his hand toward her and blew on it. It felt heavenly. “Solder cools quickly, then you can get it off,” she said.

  “And the pants?”

  “Unfortunately those are ruined. If you’re nice to Valya, she might mend the hole. You shouldn’t melt so much solder at once.”

  “But when I hold the roll up to the soldering iron—”

  “Wait a minute, that’s much too wide. Who taught you to solder?”

  “You, just now... Didn’t I say that?”

  “Oh, then you’re doing pretty well. Wait, I’ll look for a smaller tip. But you can make that narrower.”


  He grabbed the clasp that was used to tighten the tip.

  “No, idiot, it’s hot!”

  He jerked his hand back. Yekaterina had warned him just in time. If he’d known he was going to have to solder, instead of absorbing himself in his precious equations, he would have begged Doroshkevich to let him stay in Moscow. But then he would never have met Yekaterina. Well, maybe that would have been for the best. He had to keep reminding himself that she was his sister.

  “Who taught you to solder?” he asked.

  “Komikov. He always brought work with him when he visited my mother. Back then he used to do his own experiments.”

  Something sliced at his heart again. His father had never done anything with him, but in any case he wouldn’t have wanted to solder with him. Sasha had always been more interested in theory.

  “Nice for some.”

  “Oh, Sasha, don’t be bitter. You’ve mastered the language of mathematics, which will always be beyond my reach.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “What did you mean?”

  “I’m jealous of you spending time with your father. It sounds like he took good care of you,” Sasha offered.

  “Komikov? I wouldn’t exactly call him a good father. He wasn’t around often enough for that. He always had to divide his time between Leningrad and Moscow. Did you see your father often?”

  “He couldn’t be bothered doing anything with me. I guess I didn’t live up to his expectations. When he did have time for me, he either wanted to wrestle or go for a run. I thought both were stupid.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said.

  They were talking about the same person, but Yekaterina didn’t know that. Komikov had apparently never confessed to his family in Leningrad that he had another one in Moscow. But it wasn’t Sasha’s job to rectify that. This was a truth the colonel general himself should express at some point.

  Something cracked in his fingers. Shit, he’d crushed the condenser. He held up the component. “Do you have another one?”

  Yekaterina looked at the color coding. “100 picofarad?”