“3…2…1…contact.” buzzed the voice over the intercom, a dull thud was heard as the Soviet Soyuz capsule connected with its American counterpart, the Apollo craft.
Vladimir Korochenko floated through the zero gravity of the Soyuz, which had docked with the Apollo craft, like two little bubbles merging together in the darkest, deepest parts of the ocean, and together flow up, defying the immense pressure of tons of water, in this case against the sprinkles of stars on the borderless tapestry of the universe.
The other cosmonaut, Evghenia Federovna, stayed in her cushioned seat, held in place by a complicated web-work of belts which wrapped around the shell of her white spacesuit and helmet, with bold red letters spelling out CCCP emblazoned on it. She watched a live camera feed from outside the craft as the docking mechanism, carefully slowly, clicked together and little knobs rotated, sealing the two craft together.
The several centimeter, airtight hatch door squeaked open and another dull thud was heard as the door mechanism stopped it from going any further. A loud exclamation from the other side was followed by heavily accented and broken Russian. She sighed with both relief and comedic disappointment, with a little fog of humidity forming on her visor before fading away. While she and Vladimir had been forced to sit through hours and hours of simple conversational English lessons as well as translations for more technical terms, it seems that their American counterparts did not put in as much attention to the issue of how they would communicate.
She pressed a button and spoke through her headset;
“We docked successfully, hatch to hatch, the pressurized airlock is functioning perfectly.” on the other side she heard a wave of applause and excited shouts.
A large room, with row on row of office chairs, crammed full of white collared scientists, and high end, high paid engineers sat looking through a myriad of screens, each displaying a minute puzzle piece of data which was then compiled together in one enormous collage.
And all that was being done, countless hours were being spent all so that the little tin can of the joint Soviet-American mission wouldn’t fracture and shred, ripping apart in a million shards of shrapnel that would become the best meat grinder the world had ever seen, as metal debris, sharp as daggers, heated to the melting point would pierce space suit and flesh, turning internal organs into mincemeat long before their occupants could feel the suffocating helplessness as they wheezed their last breath of oxygen and their eyes glazed over, staring endlessly into the cold, sparkling void. The darkness could care less about the weeping mothers, distraught fathers, and the grieving siblings, the children who had lost a parent, to it, it was just a speck.
It was a puny attempt by organisms who formed by chance, by a totally random position of some carbon not too far away, and yet not too close to a star to survive. These organisms clambered on to whatever hope they could grasp at, religion, sex and hedonism of all sorts, ideologies, race, identity, anything at all just to stoke the fires of sanity, just to ward off the creeping, grand, eternal darkness. And all that darkness had to do, was simply sit and wait for the humans to come to it, and so they did.
But this time, they came prepared, with the buzzing of 70s computers, the constant chatter and occasional static of radios, and the great web of charts and graphs, which endless multicolored lines snaked across, assuring the nearly 200 men and women, Soviet and American generals, engineers, and political figures huddled around them that everything was going according to plan.
The plan itself was simple, but it was a secret mission nevertheless. A satellite, nicknamed Skater, had floated along it’s figure eight trajectory from Earth, through space and slingshot around and through the orbit of Mars. With a high magnification camera, the best in the world at the time, paid with taxpayer money, Skater had taken a myriad of close up photos of the Martian surface, craters, mountains and valleys.
What had interested the top brass, was a mysterious dark spot which was located on a particular spot on the sea of red. It was evidently an impact crater of sorts. They nicknamed it Jeanne, but what made this special was, despite it being day at that portion of the planet, the red scorching sun still could not reach the depths of this aperture, which like a bullet hole stared up at the satellite from the surface.
One cold October morning, the two spacecraft blasted off of their concrete foundations of stone with tall plumes of flame, half a world apart, like two fingers reaching toward the heavens. A Soviet craft and an American one, set to meet. Onboard they carried a slew of technologies, all with one purpose, to land a mining drone onto the surface of Mars and into the depths of the Jeanne crater. Cooperation was key, as this could only be done with Soviet drone technology and American spaceflight capabilities, signaling a new era of peace between the two superpowers for the betterment of the human race and in any case it was cheaper to split the bill.
The staff at the control center were assembled by both experience and loyalty, the launch date coincided with a period of clear skies and good weather as well as a prolonged “diplomatic” meeting by General Secretary Leonid Brezhnev with President Nixon.
Due to limitations in technology, the joined spacecraft could only go so far, and were to release the new drone halfway to the red planet, where it would then travel under its own power.
Now, with possibly the most dangerous maneuver of the operation, the attachment of the two craft, over with and successful, everyone in the musty control room, sweaty with invisible pressure could breathe easier, including the leaders of the two countries who sat in chairs of ornate wood and leather upholstery in a smaller balcony overlooking the operation from above.
“Proceeding to Stage 2.” came a voice, now Vladimir’s from the radio. After a brief but surprisingly joyous greeting from the spacefarers of the two opposing countries, they had settled back down in their respective capsules, holding securely onto their seats as the craft now began to slowly rotate, as if it were a merry go-round slowly picking up speed. Positioned correctly, the engines of the Soyuz belched one last time, expelling a time of flame as it left the last cordon of Earth’s atmosphere and entered the oxygen devoid vacuum of space, where the fiery engines would do them little good. The craft were specially outfitted with specialized boosters which were to give it enough momentum to reach their halfway point and the turn and get back again. Due to this, these boosters consumed a large amount of propulsion fluid which took up the space that each of the craft usually had for a third crewmember.
The stars seemed to cheerfully wink at them through the portholes as they accelerated through the cosmos, continuing on, unbothered by gravity, friction, nor air resistance.
Their moods were bright, as the four spacefarers chatted between each other, overcoming barriers of language, nationality and politics. Up there, there was no Cold War, no America and no CCCP, only you and three other fellow humans in a place that was so unlike the various dangerous ecosystems on earth which were bursting at the seams with life. They were dangerous because of that life, poisonous snakes, frogs and plants and fearsome apex predators; crocodiles and bears. Here was different, there was no other life here, only the unfeeling void which wanted them dead simply by existing.
The names of the American members of the expedition were Jack Bellingham and Robert Fulton, they were both young men in their mid to later twenties, in the prime of their lives.
“So, where are you from?” Robert asked the two cosmonauts, reverting back to English due to his unwieldiness with the Russian language.
“A small rural village just south of Leningrad. During the war, I would always hear and see the planes flying overhead, I fell in love with flying then, and that love carried me all the way to the stars as you see… And you comrades, what are your stories?” replied Vladimir, his eyes glazed over as he spoke, with the whites of his eyes reflecting the cloudy winter skies of the early forties and his pupils seemed to become the dark silhouettes of death-laden bombers, bristling with machine guns, racing across it.
“Eh, for me it wasn’t nearly as dramatic, but it is similar. Though same as you I came from a small town, the difference is that I came from Ohio, and the closest I ever saw anything about the war were the stories of my father. He was a marine during the war, and he spoke little of combat but I many times heard anecdotes about how he was ferried hither and thither across the Pacific by aircraft carrier. He always spoke of the pilots as brave bastards who brought the boots on the ground fire support when it was needed the most.” Robert spoke about himself
“And after the war, back home, the airmen always seemed to do best with the ladies, with their fancy leather jackets and all that, so given the choice, I of course wanted to try my hand at being a handsome angel from the sky. Never thought I’d ever travel beyond it though.” he finished with a smirk, slurping water from a sealed pouch. “How about you fair lady, do us an honor and tell us about yourself, thus sparing us all weeks of awkward semi interviews.” he gestured toward Evghenia.
She rolled her eyes and reluctantly obliged.
“I’m from Belarus, developed an interest in science, specifically astronomy at an early age, and eventually worked my way up to a prestigious Moscow institute. The rest is history.” She summarized her life. Seemingly content with this, Robert turned to his fellow countryman, Jack.
“C’mon man, quit being such a stuck up, it’s your turn, tell them about yourself!”
“Not much to say, I’m a city slicker that though space was cool, so I went through the training.” Jack responded cortly, his attention transfixed out of the porthole where the bright blue green orb of Earth, partially obscured by a mink fur coat of clouds was quickly becoming smaller and smaller as they sped away. “In any case, why speak of home when we are leaving it behind in favor of the unknown.” he solemnly finished.
Nearly a week passed, uneventfully, yet with unbelievable tension nonetheless. They were nearing the release point, towing the drone behind them. Just one more day and they would release that damn hunk of metal, complex circuitry and drills to it’s fate. Everybody was both a strange mix of calm but on edge. Then the day finally came.
The drone would have to be released by a complicated procedure. The majority of the robot itself was towed behind the Apollo capsule, in the space where the lunar module would usually be. However, the most important part, an incredibly sensitive and important computer chip was required to be manually installed into the drone by hand. To prevent it being damaged during the maneuvering in-orbit during the connection, the chip was carefully secured inside the Soyuz capsule. This required one of the cosmonauts to space walk out of the craft. This fell on the shoulders of Vladimir.
He entered the specially built airlock and stood there, as the air around began to his, his bulky white suit floating weightlessly all around him. Then, the decompression procedure was done and he clipped both a primary cable to himself and then a secondary emergency line. The heavy hatch door swung open and he floated out to meet the stars, the computer chip clasped securely in his gloved hand.
Back in the Soyuz capsule, Evghenia carefully watched through the movements of her companion through the outboard camera. In the Apollo capsule, Jack and Robert released the casing surrounding the drone module revealing a shiny aluminum tube coated in thick layers of fireproof and extremely heat resistant material. Foldable solar panels provided were to provide power to the battery of not just the module but the drone itself which was concealed inside.
Vladimir floated out to the drone and out of view of the outboard camera of the Soyuz, the cords connecting him to the spacecraft weren’t long enough to allow him freedom of movement, so he reclipped the secondary cord to a tether on the outside of the Apollo capsule.
“Everything alright? You’re in the blindspot, just letting you know.” He heard the concerned voice of Evghenia crackle through the static of his headset, which was built into his helmet.
“Yes, I am at the drone capsule, proceeding to install the chip.” he confirmed
He worked to open up a panel which was hidden towards the end of the module, as to protect it from the inferno of entry into the atmosphere of the red planet. What was revealed was a mess of electronics, wires and a large slot next to a small screen.
“Covering is removed.” He buzzed in through the radio.
He removed the chip from it’s container and carefully slid it into the slot. Upon feeling the chip securely click into place, a string of tiny letters ran across the screen.
“Chip inserted, hard drive configured.”
“Did you insert the chip, I repeat, did you insert the chip? If so come in, Vladimir?” Evghenia spoke through her headset. She was beginning to worry, Vladimir had not said anything for nearly a minute, he was in the blindspot of not just her but Jack and Robert as well.
“Vladimir?” she spoke into the headset again, now definitely worried, even the slightest bit of fear beginning to invade her thoughts.
“Robert, Jack, do you see Vladimir on your screens? He isn’t coming in!” she hastily contacted the Americans
“We can’t see him but our systems tell us that the chip was inserted, installed and the covering was closed back up.” confirmed Robert
Suddenly, she heard a heavy thud of magnetic boots on metal in the airlock, it was Vladimir. Evghenia breathed easier, a heavy weight had fallen from her lungs and shoulders, and the momentary, deathly grip of fear released her.
“I’m in the airlock, close it!” Vladimir exclaimed, panting heavily.
Evghenia flipped a switch and the door slammed closed, as the pressure in the airlock returned to normal and air once again rushed in to refill the vacuum of the void which had dared to intrude into this miniature sanctuary of life.
“The job is done, release the capsule!” happily exclaimed Evghenia, radioing to Jack and Robert.
“On it.” came a short response. Moments later a terrible explosion like sound came as the drone capsule detached completely.
“Damn, my nerves are never gonna get used to that.” came a witty comment over the radio from Robert.
The whole spacecraft vibrated slightly and they watched the drone capsule float off naturally for several seconds while it’s computer system’s booted up and it’s minute boosters came to life, recentering it on it’s course to the distant orange ball which had served as their reference point for the past week, simply hanging in the sky, suspended as if part of a children’s lullaby. Then the drone capsule’s main engines were activated, the solar panels extended and it sped off on it’s way.
“We did it guys!” Robert exclaimed, and then followed it up by a cheer of excitement which was echoed by everybody. “Drinks are on me when we land back home.” They activated the boosters, turned the craft around and recentered their own navigation systems onto Earth.
“We have completed the task, control. Repeating, we have completed the task, the drone is released successfully, we are returning.” Evghenia spoke through the communication systems, speaking to the cheering crew at the ground control center.
Another day had passed and that’s when they first heard it. Jack was sleeping, sitting down in his seat when he was awoken by an unexpected sound. It was a knocking, a knocking on the outside of the hull, a dull thud thud, something was out there. He spun around in his seat, unclipping himself and floated out to the porthole to see, nothing.
“Did you hear that?” he turned to Robert “Did you hear the knocking?”
“Knocking?” Robert questioned his companions’ statement. “Let me hear.” He pressed his ear to the cold wall of the hull, the only thing separating them, their little air filled haven from space, and whatever else was out there.
He pressed his ear up against it and listened hard, carefully. A moment of absolute silence passed, but then he heard it, or rather felt it. Three distinct times something hit the outside of the Apollo capsule, causing barely noticeable vibrations to ripple through the aluminum.
“It is definitely something, but I suppose that it is some random debris, maybe a junk of space rock.” Robert concluded, “What do you suppose that we do about it?”
“I, don’t know…” thought Jack, “But I do think that it is worth bringing to the attention of our Soviet friends.”
“Yes, I suppose so.” Robert agreed. He floated through the airlock, motioning over to Evghenia and Vladimir.
“We’ve been hearing something bump on the outside of the capsule, do you think it’s worth investigating?” Robert posed his question
“What do you mean, bumping? Like physical hits on the outside of the hull?” Evghenia asked
“Exactly.” confirmed Robert
“I think it isn’t that big of a problem.” stated Vladimir
“What? Not that big of a problem? It could severely damage the ship!” exclaimed Evghenia.
“I mean what I said.” It’s not a problem, and i don’t think that it should be investigated. We are in space, space debris occurs naturally. So far it hasn’t damaged any of our sensors or equipment, correct?” Vladimir asked, Robert cautiously nodded. “Well, we will fly away from it in due time.” concluded Vladimir, “No need to worry.”
Their restless caution was momentarily pacified by Vladimir’s strong projection of confidence and bravado, and they returned to their activities, monitoring the instruments and screens, dozing off or quite literally anything else to fill their time as the joint mission sped back towards Earth.
However, they didn’t need to wait long, before the phenomena continued. The knocking continued, but it began to spread all across the ship, Evghenia had heard it as whatever it was floated all around the Soyuz capsule as well, clanging against it.
Hurriedly she flipped a switch and the monitor of the outboard camera whizzed to life, in a storm of static. Whatever it was, it had either severed some of the wiring by which the camera could transmit the feed, or had smashed it clean off of the hull.
Now they had no way of knowing what it was, without the camera they were as good as blind, as the object had a nasty habit of staying out of view of the small portholes. Unable to do much, they flew on.
Vladimir was the only member of the team who was completely unphased by the knocking on the outside of the hull, whereas Evghenia, as well as Jack and Robert were starting to lose sleep over the constant fear of whatever was out there in the void, and why did it want in. Alone, Vladimir captained the spacecraft, fiddling with the wiring in an attempt to fix the camera, while the others dozed off.
What happened next could have ever been expected.
Just two days from their return to Earth, Jack made a bold announcement.
“I’ll go out there, and I will get whatever it is out there to kindly fuck off.” he stated with anger audibly seething through his voice.
“But, what if-” Evghenia began but stamered off.
“What if what? I don’t suppose you believe that whatever is out there is dangerous or even,” Vladimir paused, “sentient?”
Evghenia blushed, her face turning red with embarrassment for even thinking about that, much less voicing that sort of opinion out loud, even if it had been secretly terrorizing her mind for the past several days.
“Just be safe out there man.” commented Robert, shaking his friend’s gloved hand and patting him on the back through the puffy space suit.
“Don’t worry, I will.” Jack reaffirmed his worried buddy. “I’ll be back in no-time, you’ll see.” He stepped into the airlock, clipped a cable onto a tether in the airlock and watched the doors behind him close, separating himself from the others.
Evghenia took up her position and monitored the readings of the various electronics which had to perfectly work in tandem for this operation to work out the way it was supposed to. Robert watched from one of the portholes while Vladimir simply sat down and strapped himself into his seat, his expression calm and relaxed.
Jack stood in the airlock, as it depressurized and the door opened, and the wonderful artwork on the celestial canvas opened up to him, the stars, so many, hundreds, thousands, all like eyes watching his every move. Who knows what things dwell on the God-forsaken chunks of rock orbiting them, slowly in the vacuum, one immense waltz for the insane. What kind of things lurked there, in the shadows of unknown suns and how many of them regarded humankind, with all of it’s tanks, guns, battleships, bombers and nuclear warheads as nothing more than it’s next appetizer, unworthy of even being a full meal.
He jumped, floating through the void and floated out of the airlock, he began turning back to look at the ship, to see what was knocking, just when he saw a little flash of light from the airlock, a spark which had flared up and vanished, within a millisecond burning up the last remainder of the oxygen. Something had gone wrong, somewhere a wire failed, an electrical connection was lost, something broke.
Those were the thoughts that crossed his mind as he saw the malfunctioning airlock door slide down, closing, like the shiny, polished blade of a guillotine on it’s fatal downward dive. The airlock door snapped shut, completely severing the cable which had connected him to the ship. He screamed into the radio as he felt himself helplessly float away, further and further, swallowed by the ever hungering nothingness.
Evghenia sat there, in shock, screaming back into the radio, trying to contact Jack, but it was almost futile. Then suddenly his side of the radio momentarily crackled back to life.
“I see…(static)…not alive…(static)…it’s not one of us.”
Nothing else was heard as by that point Jack had drifted beyond the range of the radio.
Robert wept, Evghenia was almost in a total meltdown. Only Vladimir was silent, his facial expression was stoic, almost to the point of denial as he alone piloted the ship back to Earth.
—————————————————————————————–
“So, Mr President, how long do you plan to keep this sick freak show going?” Brezhnev shouted angrily at Nixon, who stood in front of the General Secretary, looking down from the balcony, at the monitors of the control room. “I repeat, end this now!” now commanded Brezhnev.
“This could possibly be the greatest leap forward in all of human history, all of our earthly accomplishments, all of them, they all pale compared to this. If we carry this out then for generations to come our names will be remembered as great leaders.” Nixon stated, his voice rising, and his gaze glassy as if the wonderful future monuments were already being erected before him.
“We will be remembered, yes, we shall be remembered, that is true.” Agreed Brezhnev with hostility, “But unlike you, I plan to be remembered as a hero, a man who helped save humanity, who like a white blood cell helped catch and destroy any virus before it enters the human system. I will not let that thing land at all costs.” He himself stood up from his leather chair and walked over to a bright red phone which was situated on a wooden table, between the two chairs.
Brezhnev picked up the phone and dialed in a number, as the phone rang and buzzed, the Soviet leader inquired again. “For the last time Mr. President, I ask you, do you want to be on the wrong side of history or the right one?”
A moment of agitated silence passed as Nixon surveyed the life signs of each of the expedition members, taken by sensors inside their suits, two of which showed normal readings, while the other two displayed the occupant’s status as deceased. His gaze swept over the live feed from a powerful military satellite which had focused onto the returning spacecraft, and the motionless, frozen solid corpse of Vladimir Korochenko, still tethered to the outside of the craft, occasionally slamming against its side.
A radio communication from the spacecraft came in.
“We are soon going to be re-entering into Earth’s atmosphere, all is well.” stated the thing at the controls of the ship, all in a perfect recreation of Vladimir’s tone of voice and pitch.
“Understood.” was sent as a reply. Nixon turned and simply nodded at Brezhnev, “Do what needs to be done.”
The phone was picked up on the other side and the ringing stopped, the order was given.
Thousands of miles away, deep in the Siberian taiga, the order was received, the camouflage covering was hastily moved away revealing a large concrete slab, dotted with several huge openings, covered in equally thick metal hatches. At the push of a button, one such hatch swung open and out flew an A-35 interceptor missile, armed and ready to deal death. It’s target was a small dot which was moving quickly, entering the upper atmosphere.
On the radar screens of the control room, one fast dot was met by another, and then both vanished.
Half the world away, a little boy sat with his father, looking through a small amateur telescope up at the starry night sky. Suddenly they saw a brief flash of light somewhere up above, a single shooting star had been overtaken by another, breaking apart into a myriad of smaller chunks which burned as they entered the atmosphere.
“What’s that dad?” the boy asked
“A shooting star, son.” his father began, “They are like visitors to our planet, and there are many of them. Thousands crash to Earth every year.”
Leave a Reply