The Clouds of Venus

Hard Science Fiction

Brandon Q. Morris

with Ashton McLee

Contents

The Clouds of Venus

Author's Note by Brandon Q. Morris

Author's Note by Ashton McLee

Also by Brandon Q. Morris

A Guided Tour of Venus

Glossary of Acronyms

Metric to English Conversions

The Clouds of Venus

February 2, 2079, Havre Volcano

Slowly, Erik sank down. It was pitch dark, but that didn’t bother him. The combination radar-laser scanner in his head provided him an incredible picture of his surroundings. There was a hilly field below him, on which someone seemed to have distributed random boulders, with more boulders as he focused farther out. At a distance of 300 meters, there were so many that they were piled on top of each other.

Erik accelerated until the engine on his back was moving him at 20 kilometers per hour through the water.

“Hey—wait a minute!”

He turned around. Nuria, his colleague, sounded annoyed. What’s up with her this time?

She floated a little below him with her spotlight pointing toward the rocks.

“Why aren’t you keeping up with me?” he asked.

“I thought I saw a creature over there.”

Nuria was a biologist. He realized that she was interested in anything that might be alive in this undersea volcano, but that wasn’t her job at present. He didn’t want to spend the whole day at a depth of 1,200 meters.

“Did you see something?”

“Not sure... I didn’t know if I had time—”

“We don’t have time. We’re still a few kilometers from the caldera.”

“You’re right.” His colleague began moving again.

That stupid ‘creature’ of hers had cost them at least five minutes. Erik couldn’t understand how someone could be so selfish. As a geologist, he wanted to take a close look at the truck-sized stone chunks down there. He shook his head. No, I don’t. I’d rather lounge on my towel on the beach and drink a cold beer. Dream on, old Norseman, he thought.

“I’m here already.”

He hadn’t noticed that Nuria had caught up with him. He began moving. Even though he’d rather be in the air looking down, it was a pleasure to glide through the water. His body was shaped perfectly for hydrodynamics. If he wanted to swim even faster, he only needed to go into a prone position and activate his arms. The mechanical wrist joints then twirled his hands, and they became like propeller blades to push him through the water.

Slowly they grew closer to the huge crater. The Havre volcano had last erupted 27 years ago. As a geologist, Erik knew all the warning signals of an eruption. However, he noticed a strange feeling come over him as they were approaching the active volcano. He was reminded of a sleeping dragon. Hmm. What might happen if we were to step on its tail? he pondered.

He looked around from time to time. Nuria was only a few meters behind him. He hadn’t noticed until now that she was prone to being distracted by trivialities. Before today, however, they had only trained in places where there hadn’t been lifeforms to get in her way.

Erik switched to the infrared display on his visor and saw a bright stream of hot water rising from the caldera, the reason why they were there. The seawater, warmed in the depths of the crater, rose upward and cooler water flowed down, a cycle that will continue for thousands of years if not interrupted. Their goal was to reach the crater floor. The combination of heat and high pressure was the ideal test field—if they survived this, there were barely any obstacles left in the solar system apart from the surface of their mother star.

“How does it look?” he asked.

“Let’s go,” Nuria answered.

The crater was below them. In the visible spectrum, it was just as black as the environment. The radar showed the structure, reminiscent of a very deep, tapered pot. Viewed in the infrared it reminded Erik of a volcano on land, because the bubbling hot water in this area of the spectrum glowed like magma. It wasn’t as dangerous here, though, which was why they didn’t train ashore. A falling stone, which—on land—could kill them before they had time to react, could be seen and avoided while it was still falling through the water.

Nuria swam headfirst into the depths. As agreed, and following the mission instructions, she used only the engine, not her arms. He followed his colleague, both of them staying near the wall. There, the cold water flowed in and downward from their surroundings and pulled them along very efficiently. Erik kept checking the temperature of the rising water. It was already over 100 degrees.

“It’s pretty hot,” Nuria said.

She must be monitoring the rising temperatures, too. “That’s no big deal.”

“Shouldn’t it be bubbling more?”

“The pressure down here raises the boiling point of the water.”

“I see,” Nuria said as she veered off and swam toward the middle.

“What are you doing?” he shouted anxiously.

“A test.”

Her body had to already be in the rising current, but she moved as if she was paddling on the beach. The engine had an amazing performance capacity, matching the current without further assistance, and Erik calmed down again.

“Test passed,” he said as Nuria came back to him again. “Next time, let me know.”

“If you had read the plan, you would know that we’ve been ordered to make such tests.”

Point for Nuria, Erik thought. He hated to read lengthy plans in advance. He preferred to be surprised, something that had driven his mother and all his teachers to despair. However—or maybe because of it—he liked to reminisce about his school days in Norway.

“Still 300 meters,” Nuria said.

Erik looked down. There it was, the ‘sleeping dragon.’ The magma had to be a few meters below the surface. The wound that the volcano tore during its last outburst had only a thin scab that they must not scrape off. Nuria paused and remained about five meters above the bottom. Erik floated next to her and aimed his headlight down. There didn’t seem to be any sign of life anywhere—everything was brown, gray, and black. However, life on Earth is said to have originated in such places. Evolution had come a long way.

“850 degrees,” Nuria said.

“Excellent. All instruments nominal,” Erik said.

“All instruments nominal,” his colleague confirmed.

“And now what?”

“Now we just have to wait here for the scheduled time. And next time, I’ll tell you before we start a test.”

“So there’s nothing else on our list?”

“Nothing else. You can tell me a story from your younger days.”

“No thanks. Why don’t you tell me how you came to join our team? I always wanted to ask you that.” He knew Nuria was from Saudi Arabia, but not much else.

“It’s too long a story,” she said with a sigh.

* * *

They remained silent until they heard the beep of the alarm programmed by Nuria.

“Time to go up.”

Erik displayed the time in front of his right eye. He flinched when it popped into view because he still hadn’t gotten used to such data appearing in the midst of reality. Yes, it was time for them to go up. He was glad they could ascend without the pressure equalization and similar diver techniques. Otherwise he wouldn’t have time to go to his favorite spot on the beach today.

He noticed he was rising faster than Nuria. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“You forgot that we are supposed to measure the velocity of the flow.”

“But you can do that much easier from the ship.”

“Here, yes, but not on Venus,” Nuria said.

To hell with the plan. Let her do it, he decided, accelerating upward. He reached the edge of the caldera in record time, but then he felt guilty. He was going to cause Nuria unnecessary trouble if he didn’t get his act together. They should have arrived at the same time. Erik looked around. Next to the abyss lay a large pumice stone. He swam back down and sat on it.

Crack! It was a horrifying noise.

Something under him had broken. The sound reached him as structure-borne noise. Erik recoiled in an attempt to move away, but something was holding his right arm. The rock had slipped into a void, and his arm had been caught at its edge.

“Nuria? I need some advice,” he said carefully. It was strange. He was less afraid of the consequences of his stupidity than of Nuria’s ranting.

She arrived next to him and tried to pull his arm out without success. “On the count of three,” she said.

On three they both turned their engines to the highest level. The boulder was moving.

“Stop! Stop!” Nuria ordered.

“What? Why? We can do it!”

“If we pull further in that direction, the entire block could fall into the caldera.”

Although pumice is light, a chunk this big weighed a few tons. And, what if it hit the thin magma crust? The sleeping dragon! Nuria was right, of course, and he was acting like an idiot—after all, he was the geologist. “But my arm?”

“We don’t have a choice,” Nuria said.

Crap. But she was right—there was no alternative. He opened the joint between his upper and lower arm segments. Now he was free again.

“Maybe we can pick it up later,” Nuria said.

It helped that she was trying to calm him down, even though the likelihood of recovering the piece of expensive electronics was pretty low.

Erik sighed. “Let’s go to the ship.”

He gave his body the start impulse, switched it over to autopilot.

He ripped off his helmet. He was sitting in the glass cockpit of the submarine parked at a depth of 100 meters. In a few minutes, the two autonomous vehicles, the AVs, would dock in the cargo hold. Then they could resurface. Erik wasn’t so happy anymore—due to the missing arm on his AV, he was expecting to be dismissed by the mission controller.

February 3, 2079, Havre Volcano

The Ocean Explorer powered through high waves. Erik had to hold onto the rail as he walked along the deck, ice-cold foam blasting against his face. Nobody had warned him about that before leaving! Midsummer in the South Pacific... he had imagined something completely different—coral reefs, blue sea, sunshine, and a bit of diving. Everybody envied him for being able to test his personal AV against the perfect backdrop.

Erik felt nausea coming on as he reached a structure on the deck. The boxy, blue and white construction looked like a foreign object on the ship, and that impression wasn’t a lie. It was a later installation by NASA on the ship that was owned by the NOAA Marine Authority. The structure didn’t have a hatch, but it had two doors. Erik grasped a door handle and hesitated. Whenever he had to go inside, his latent seasickness intensified rather than quieting. But that didn’t matter. He had to fulfill his mission, and it was his fault that this had happened to his AV.

He pressed the handle down, opened the door, and quickly slipped into the room. The light was so bright that it blinded him. He put his hand over his eyes.

“You’re finally coming?”

Of course. Nuria had gotten there first, as always, even though she’d been sitting at the breakfast table when he left, and he’d only needed a detour to the toilet. But why was she even here? Her AV had survived the test fully intact and without any problems! She could be lying in her bunk and studying for the next exam that they had to take next week, with all the other astronaut candidates, or ASCANs.

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you straighten your member.”

Someone laughed in the background. It must have been one of the ship’s regular sailors. Nuria’s English was perfect, but sometimes she expressed herself inappropriately.

“Did I say something wrong?” she asked loudly, turning around.

As she turned back, Erik saw the sparkle in her black eyes. The guy who’d laughed didn’t answer.

“You wanted to watch me?” Erik asked.

“If you’ll let me. Maybe you’ll need some help, too.”

“I can handle it myself,” he answered as he crouched down.

The AV was propped against the wall, sitting with its legs stretched out. It looked as if the figure, which had shoulders as broad as a slim adult human, had propped itself with the left arm. The right arm ended at the elbow.

Erik heard a man’s stern voice. “Well, now, take care of that poor thing.”

He started to get up to greet Colonel Massey, but the man gently pushed him back down.

“Get on with your job,” the training officer said.

“Yes, Sir,” Erik said.

He leaned against the wall and began to inspect the broken arm. The technicians had probably already examined his AV, but on Venus he would need to be able to repair the machine that sat on the floor in front of him, perhaps even while looking at it through the eyes of another AV.

He observed the head, which had a pronounced egg shape. Facetiously, the AVs were called ‘eggheads.’ The eyes were open, the mouth and nose naturally shaped. Psychologists strongly argued that the faces of the AVs should be as similar as possible to those of their human ‘interfacers,’ believing this would increase the humans’ commitment to their robot comrades. In his case, the similarity wasn’t overly striking except for the big nose, but he still had the creepy feeling of looking into the eyes of a copy of himself. However—and he found this reassuring—he found the eyes rather dead-looking compared to his own, even though the machine ‘lived’ and therefore was not completely broken.

During their training, Erik had already opened and examined all of the parts of an AV body. Although the design was based on human forms, the space inside the AV was used in a completely different way. There was an ostrich-egg-sized core in the belly of the machine, which had a plutonium-based energy source. The sensor systems went far beyond the senses of a human. The AVs could see in a wide spectral range, from gamma through microwave radiation.

The intelligence wasn’t limited to the head, it was distributed throughout the body. However, it was a very limited intelligence. Considering some of the most spectacular incidents in recent times, it didn’t seem a good idea to offer a mobile platform to an artificial intelligence. Instead, people like Nuria and Erik gave the machines their knowledge. For the remote control to be clean and prompt, the distance between the astronaut and his more robust double couldn’t be too great.

Erik raised the broken right arm. He jerked back because the head of the AV suddenly turned in his direction. “Man, don’t scare me like that. Who started that thing?”

Nobody replied.

Erik got on his knees and grabbed the machine by the neck. He had to find an invisible button on each side of the neck and maintain pressure on both buttons for 20 seconds to turn off the AV. At first glance, an ignorant onlooker might have thought he was strangling someone. The two buttons signaled with a vibration that the machine had shut down. Even in this condition, the body still had some capabilities. For example, the AV could control its joints so that it didn’t fall over under its own weight. Despite that feature, Erik came close to ending up under his own AV when it lost its balance, and, at around 150 kilograms, it could have been disastrous.

Finally, he could take care of the ‘injury’ to the AV. He raised the AV’s upper arm and looked at the damage to the exposed joint at its end. He noticed at once that it had been damaged in the accident. The surface had some scratches, two of the connectors that hooked into the forearm were bent, and a third connector was missing altogether. Erik wondered if he should take the AV to the operating table in the middle of the room. Then he would be able to reach all of the AV’s parts more easily, and even get underneath it he needed to. But he couldn’t move it there alone, and he didn’t want to ask Nuria for help.

And it wasn’t really necessary. He’d be the laughing stock of the team if he couldn’t fix the AV while sitting here. He needed to replace the missing forearm and hand with one from the depot. Or... He looked around. There was an AV in another corner of the room, whose caregiver was currently sick in bed.

He decided to rely on the self-healing power of the machine and let it repair its own joint. The limbs were connected to a network of thin, flexible tubes that resembled blood vessels. Instead of blood flowing within them, however, there was an oily liquid that contained nanofabricators—tiny machines that could be programmed to produce almost anything if you provided them the necessary raw materials.

Nanofabricators had originated in Russia. But people had questioned what might happen if they began producing copies of themselves. That concern led to worldwide safety regulations stating they could only be used in highly secure environments, and these specific nanomachines could exist only in their special liquid.

For internal damage, the AV could introduce its tiny repairers via the vascular network, but to get them to the outside of the ‘wounded’ joint, Erik would have to improvise. So, he bent the AV’s right leg up from the hip joint and disconnected its lower leg at the knee. Then he reattached it to the thigh, but facing the opposite direction—so that the knee would bend backward.

“What’s that all about?” Nuria asked.

“You’ll see.”

Next, Erik removed its foot and set it aside. He got up, moved around to the other side of the AV, and dismounted that lower leg. Then he attached the left lower leg to the end of the right lower leg, at the joint he’d opened to remove the foot. Erik was ready to see if that was enough for what he needed. He angled the revised leg, which now consisted of one upper leg and two lower legs, to get the foot closer to the damaged joint.

“Shit,” he said. It didn’t quite reach.

There was a valve in the sole of the AV’s foot for adding or draining the liquid containing the nanofabricators. He wanted to open it and let some of the magic oil drip onto the damaged elbow joint. He looked around. He needed to add its left forearm, too. Finally, he decided to ask Nuria for help.

“Can you stabilize the AV on the left side, please? I want to take the forearm segment off.”

Without a word, Nuria walked around the machine to stabilize it. He disconnected the hand and laid it down before dismounting the left forearm and integrating it into his construction. That was enough! The three leg sections, the forearm, and the foot formed a jointed arch, through which he could now drip fabricators on the joint. He opened the valve of the filler hole. The fluid followed gravity and dripped onto the joint.

Erik waited until all of the damaged spots were coated. Then he closed the valve, making sure it had sealed, and began reassembling the borrowed left-side parts. Next came the reversed right knee, and reattaching the right foot to its ankle. He didn’t need to program the nanofabricators. They recognized that the physical shape of the joint didn’t fit the structural design and replaced what was missing. After 30 minutes, the joint of his AV was like new.

February 3, 2079, Akademgorodok

The plane rolled to a stop and the pilot turned off the engines. Peter Kovalev took a deep breath and unbuckled his seatbelt. Now what? There was no flight attendant in the private jet, and no one telling the passengers what to do. The FSB employees in the seats in front of him got up and hurried to the door. Peter nodded to his humanoid robot Katarina, then followed the others.

The door opened with a hiss, and frigid air quickly made its way in. Peter was glad he was wearing a mask, since minus 20 is quite normal for winter in Siberian. The group began moving. Peter stopped for a moment on the top step. An armored, large-capacity limousine was waiting at the edge of the runway. That must be his date. The doors were still closed, but he couldn’t blame the woman he had been dating for waiting in the warmth of the vehicle until the last second.

As the small group was almost to the limousine, the passenger door opened. Valentina Shostakovich, the daughter of RB owner Nikolai Shostakovich, got out. Her fur coat was open, and he saw that she was wearing a lightweight dress underneath.

I hope she doesn’t catch a cold, Peter thought.

“I’m glad you have arrived safe, Mr. Ivanov!” she said, briefly raising her hand in greeting. “Come on in, Andrej, we have a secure meeting room in the vehicle.” She turned to the FSB agents. “A second vehicle will arrive shortly for you.”

Peter reacted a second too late to the false name. Had the driver noticed anything? he wondered. I didn’t detect any reaction from him.

“And who are you, if I may ask?” Valentina asked.

Peter was confused. Then he realized that she was talking to his robot.

“I’m Katarina,” she answered before Peter could react. “We’ve talked on the phone.”

Valentina gave Katarina a head-to-toe once-over. “Get in the car,” she said.

One of the rear doors opened, and Katherina complied. Valentina got in next and Peter followed. There were four armchairs inside, grouped around a small meeting table. As soon as everyone was sitting down, Valentina pushed a button on her communicator and the car started to move away.

Peter’s face itched under the mask, which was, in fact, a whole-head protective covering while also serving as a disguise. “May I?” he asked, pointing to his chin.

“Yes, the driver can’t see or hear anything from back here. He receives his orders only through my communicator.”

Peter removed the mask with a deep sigh. How sorry he was about this secrecy! He would much rather focus on his research. But after the two attacks, he was glad that his employer, RB, had helped him out.

“Why do you have a driver, even though it’s an autonomous vehicle?” he asked.

“He is actually a bodyguard. He can deal with the police if necessary, or anticipate dangers better than the automatic system,” explained Valentina.

“But,” she said, lowering her voice, “right now, let’s talk about what’s happened. Things that nobody else needs to know.”

That didn’t sound good. Peter was hoping that this nightmare would come to an end.

“Anastasia Jurkova escaped. She seriously injured Ivan Lazarev and a Japanese agent during her flight. I’m really sorry about Lazarev. He helped our company more than once, but that doesn’t matter now. It would have been a different outcome if he had been wearing the special helmet. Well...”

There was silence for a moment. Valentina seemed to be worried about Lazarev. What if there was more behind it? And it made Peter wonder what was going to happen to him.

“Peter, as far as your future is concerned,” whispered Valentina, as if she was reading his thoughts, “I have some things I want to discuss with you. But we’ll do that at RB, because there’s a second problem we need to resolve.”

* * *

The vehicle brought the passengers directly to Shostakovich’s protective bunker, a flat concrete building with narrow windows that looked more like embrasures. The most modern defensive weapons were probably mounted behind them. Anyone who had power, and Shostakovich had a great deal of it with his RB group, also had powerful enemies.

But at that moment everything seemed peaceful. They got out. Valentina left her fur coat open again, but she didn’t seem to be feeling chilled.

No wonder, thought Peter, she was born here.

As they were walking the ten meters to the entrance, Valentina kept looking around. She was nervous, and this feeling was transferring to him. It only left him when the powerful bolts of the armored door latched into place behind them.

They walked a few steps along a brightly lit corridor until they reached an alcove. There, Valentina took him aside. “Do you trust your robot?” she asked quietly.

Peter smiled. Katarina’s senses were so highly developed that she could pick up every word.

“Yes. Katarina saved my life in Tokyo at least once,” Peter said. “She’s really Dushek’s masterpiece. The AI and the protective function of the android are still world leaders today, even though she is ten years old. I can’t comment on the rest of Dushek’s work.”

“The rest?”

“Well, it’s an HDS model, Home Defender Sex. You understand, right?”

Valentina smiled. “That sounds like Yuri. Our AI guru has always been something... special. And have you never tried this added feature?”

“Me...? Ummm...”

Valentina hit him on the upper arm. “That was a joke. You don’t need to answer.”

* * *

Valentina suddenly looked much more relaxed, and they moved on through an inconspicuous door and then down a staircase. There she shoved a cabinet aside and poked a needle-shaped object into a tiny and barely visible hole that seemed part of the patterned wallcovering. Immediately the wall retracted and moved to the side, revealing a vast laboratory with additional doors that led to an extensive residential and work complex. Valentina let him go first.

Maria Kuznetsova was standing in the middle of the laboratory. The face of the 26-year-old biochemist from his AI research team brightened as Peter entered, and darkened the moment she saw Katarina trailing him.

“You already know your co-worker,” Valentina said, not bothering with names. “She has gotten herself in trouble by, let’s say, reckless activities. So far, we thought we could just sit it out and put Maria out of contact until the final resolution. Although she isn’t free here, she is better off in this place than in any prison anywhere.”

Peter swallowed. The repressed anger rose again. How could a researcher with these career prospects have been so stupid as to distill liquor illegally? She had to have known that it would come back to bite her someday! Salaries were still low at Maria’s level, but he was happy to have a stable job with a well-known company, and he thought she should be, too.

Valentina pointed to a few chairs in front of a laboratory table. “Sit down!” she said. “What I am going to tell you now is top secret.”

Of course. Nothing that Peter had experienced, seen, or heard over the last few weeks could ever go public. He almost felt like a spy himself.

Valentina took a chair so that she could sit between Maria and him. “Unfortunately, the whole thing has become more complicated,” she said.

Maria bit her lip.

“Anastasia Jurkova didn’t just rat you out, she reported you to the top guys. I don’t know what allegations she made. In any case, the investigations are being carried out in Moscow, which severely limits our influence on them. That was probably Anastasia’s plan.

“Now, Ivan Lazarev is in a hospital bed in Japan, seriously injured, and we don’t know if he will come back. Just like that, we lost a strong man, Maria, who always protected you. There is only one way out. You have to get beyond the reach of the investigative authorities and away from Akademgorodok, so that the RB Group doesn’t get any blowback from the investigation. We can’t do anything to change it.”

Maria swallowed. “But where should I go?” she asked softly.

“I’ll get to that soon. Now you, Peter. It looks different for you, but not better. Anastasia has disappeared, and we don’t know when or where she will strike again. You could spend the next few years in this cozy bunker, but I have another alternative for you.”

“Another bunker?” What kind of alternative is that? he wondered. Couldn’t they just kill Anastasia so he could dedicate himself to his research again?

“What I’d like to offer you is definitely more interesting than a bunker, or even a prison,” Valentina said, “and it’s related to RB’s core business.”

“Asteroid mining?” Peter asked right away. He didn’t intend to spend years on a boulder that flew across space.

“Yes and no. It’s not about asteroids, it’s about Venus, and it is definitely not about mining. Not officially, that is.”

“But isn’t Venus considered a protected area?”

“Yes, Peter, commercial use is forbidden by the UN space treaty, but scientific research is allowed. The RB Group is researching our neighboring planets, and we are particularly interested in the crust. There are many unanswered questions, like the strong volcanism. And there will be an overburden with the necessary excavations.”

“And the UN accepts that?”

“The conditions down there are so extreme that every material we could harvest could be too expensive, and therefore not very interesting commercially. And with the nanofabricators technology, you can now produce almost everything out of almost anything. But, not everything.”

“Such as?” Peter asked.

“Diamonds. Nanomachines can easily arrange carbon atoms however they want. But if pressure and temperature aren’t set correctly, a diamond will never be formed. Coincidentally, we found lots of diamonds in the rubble of our research, so RB is pleased to be doing research there. But of course, it’s only worth it as long as nobody on Earth knows about it. Otherwise the diamond market of the Earth would collapse. We will sell the stones at a lower price. Do you understand?”

Very smart, and typical RB. That trick was old. For a hundred years, Japan had been catching whales for research purposes and then selling them.

“But what are we supposed to do up there?” Maria asked—a good question, since robots would surely handle the harvesting.

“We found something last week that we really didn’t expect.” Valentina turned on a hologram projector that created a three-dimensional image above the table. On the display, they saw a section of wall with numerous carved symbols.

“We believe that cannot be anything other than a structure from an ancient civilization,” Valentina explained. “We can almost certainly exclude artifacts of biological origin under these environmental conditions. We stopped the exploration and gave the robots the task of transforming the storerooms so that people could live in them.”

Life on Venus? That was one reason to send people. Who could imagine the secrets that an ancient civilization could reveal to them? Peter thought.

“You two could do the research. An interesting task, and out of the reach of all your current pursuers. Document everything you find. The analysis can be done by RB researchers on Earth.”

“When should we start?” Maria asked.

It would be best to go tomorrow morning, Peter thought. He wanted to go on this mission. It was different from anything he had ever done in his life. It was more important, too, breathtaking—and probably dangerous, but he didn’t care.

“Your ship will be ready in about three months. It’s equipped with brand new and enhanced direct fusion drives. Not only are they stronger than NASA’s older models—which we used as a model for our development—they no longer have these cold-start problems that sometimes interfered with the previous expeditions. As Earth and Venus are getting closer to each other, approaching a minimum distance, we can dispense with the use of the Hohmann maneuver and fly to the planets directly.”

“And you probably need our answer right away?” Peter asked.

Valentina smiled. “No, you have three days to make your decisions. Otherwise we will have to look for other scientists.” Then she suddenly stood up. “Now I have to say goodbye. Someone will come in a few minutes to take you to your quarters.”

She raised her hand again, and the secret door closed behind her.

* * *

“And will you accept her offer?” asked Maria.

“Yes, absolutely! It doesn’t matter to me where I am locked up. What matters is that I’m safe from Anastasia on board the spaceship. The opportunity to explore an alien civilization is very appealing to me. What do you think about it?”

“It sounds fascinating, but it is also very dangerous. Me as a cosmonaut? I can’t imagine that yet. Besides, I’d rather continue with my studies on Earth.”

“Which studies?”

“My work with human cell repair based on the individual genome. You know that!”

He remembered. She had been ranked among the top 20 percent at the State University of Novosibirsk. But if Maria refused to go, who would they send with him? The old Tarasov, the planetary scientist? He knew Venus very well, at least theoretically. Then he would have to listen to his lectures for at least six weeks. No, Maria Kuznetsova would be better.

“I would really appreciate it if you came,” Peter said.

Maria turned dark red.

Peter winced mentally. What did I do? I didn’t want to embarrass you!

“Are you two ready now? I’ll take you to your quarters,” said a young woman in a laboratory coat. They hadn’t heard her come to the table.

“Thank you.” You are my savior, he thought.

February 4, 2079, Havre Volcano

Erik strode up and down, treading excessively noisily. “We have six days left until the exam, and they still won’t let us leave?”

“You’re behaving like a child whose ice cream was taken away, do you realize that?” Nuria asked.

“Well, I don’t want to flunk this exam. I hate exams, and so far I’ve had hardly any time to prepare.”

“And what about the weekend you chose to spend surfing with the first officer of the Ocean Explorer?”

That had been the highlight of this trip. Erik couldn’t help but smile when he remembered it. He had finally been able to try out all the tricks he loved so much—he had feared that he had completely forgotten them. But his student had also proven to be very quick and eager to learn. “The man asked me if I could teach him some tricks,” he said. “How could I say no?”

“And now the biologists are asking us for help. You cannot refuse them, since you didn’t refuse him,” retorted Nuria. “The exam is just a formality, you know that yourself. There are two AVs, and two ASCANs who have learned how to use the AVs. They have to let us fly!”

“We’re lucky those gizmos are still so expensive.”

“It depends. After all, our trip is not without its risks.”

“Please. The AVs perform real work. We only watch from above.”

“Then you can prove to everyone how easy all of this is, Erik.”

Erik sighed. “You win, one-zip.” Nuria was such a spoilsport.

* * *

The lights went out, and Erik sensed the slight draft of the air conditioning. He put on the mask, as he called the BCI, the brain-computer interface.

“Look. The man in the iron mask,” he said aloud.

“Can’t you think of a new joke?” Nuria asked. She was lying next to him on the couch and had just donned her BCI as well.

A calibration sequence in which the system adapted to his brainwave patterns was still running. The BCI was already programmed specifically for his brain. Nobody else could use it. But his brain was so malleable that there were small changes overnight. If he learned a new pattern of movement, a re-calibration would be required. After the surfing lessons with the first officer, the BCI had taken almost 45 minutes in which to fully synchronize.

But he seemed to have learned nothing new since the previous day, because a countdown was already announcing the establishment of a connection to his AV. Erik involuntarily tensed his arm muscles. The transition was always a bit unpleasant, because all sensations changed within milliseconds.

He was swimming in the ocean. There was darkness around him. Erik opened his mouth to breathe, but no air flowed into his lungs. Panic threatened to overwhelm him. Calm down, he thought. I don’t have to breathe now. I get my energy from a well-charged battery. As soon as I activate the radar and sonar, my surroundings will be illuminated.

It worked. His consciousness accepted the new shell. Erik sometimes wondered why he, of all people, had been chosen for this mission. Officially, no one wanted to tell him why, but he had heard through the grapevine that most of the candidates did not tolerate the transition well.

He’d never had any difficulty imagining that he was something else. When his father would get drunk and go on a rampage at home, young Erik imagined he was a table that did not care. He imagined every detail down to the grain of his wood and the feeling of the linoleum under his four feet, enabling him to survive his father’s fits of rage without being harmed. “You see,” his mother would now have told him, “you never know what your imagination is good for.” Nevertheless, he would rather not have had an alcoholic as a father.

“Are you coming?”

“Yeah.”

Couldn’t one ruminate a little? Erik activated the navigation. Suddenly he saw everything clearly. Far above him was the belly of the ship. The volcano waited below, and Nuria had already started the descent. Their destination was a so-called ‘black smoker,’ a hydrothermal vent on the edge of the volcano’s crater. Erik started the engines and zoomed into the depths. He should not have made such a fuss earlier. The mission was intriguing, especially for him as a geologist, but also for Nuria with her doctorate in biology.

They had only discovered the vent when the data from two days ago was being analyzed, which was why the scientists on board had requested this unplanned excursion. A new, previously unknown black smoker was worth a closer look. Also, if you looked at it from the perspective of the Venus expedition, the conditions on the neighboring planet were not unlike those of the smoker.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Nuria piped up.

He must have shot right past her. Erik shook his head. As a geologist, he should arrive first at the site. He switched his field of vision to infrared and had to close his eyes, dazzled. He had forgotten that the entire ocean floor around here was hot. First he had to lower the sensitivity.

Erik opened his eyes again. The seabed glowed orange-red. It was warmest where the red component was particularly strong. But he was not making any progress. The last eruption of the Havre Volcano was not long ago, accounting for why it was so warm everywhere, and also explaining why the black smoker was not noticeable.

Erik set the infrared camera to search for movements, for currents. Somewhere, hot water was spurting from a hole and spreading outward. He had to find that spot.

There was something over there. To the left of his position, a haze was visible in the picture.

“On the left,” cried Nuria, “I have it!”

I was quicker, he thought. His body approached the spot at the bottom of the sea where the haze began. He then turned on his lamp. It was unmistakable—they were in the right spot! Something that looked like a plume of dark smoke spurted from two openings in the ocean floor—not smoke, but minerals, which dissolved in the hot water and precipitated when the warm stream met the cool seawater.

He sank slowly toward the bottom. Shortly before reaching his destination he adjusted his weight so that he floated. For this purpose, his body possessed cavities that functioned like the swim bladders of a fish. He must not disturb the environment of the black smoker. What he had here was perhaps a unique biotope. They would only find out more later aboard the Ocean Explorer.

But he could already say this much—the geological phenomenon was gorgeous. The clouds were three-dimensional and seemed quite alive. They slowly changed their shapes, but despite their enormous height of almost 20 meters, they remained impressively stable. Their surroundings glittered. That must be pyrite, also known as fool’s gold. He measured the temperatures—420 degrees at the base.

“Utterly magnificent,” said Nuria.

For once he had to agree with her. Although he knew everything about black smokers, Erik had never seen one first hand in its natural environment. The huge clouds seemed somehow mysterious to him. Why was that? Was it just because of the depth, or because he knew that life on Earth most likely began somewhere like here?

Nuria took samples. They could not perform an on-the-spot investigation of the action at the microscopic level in the clouds or next to the vent.

At first, Erik took his time regarding the rising cloud. When he had gazed his fill, he began to measure all the physical parameters.

* * *

“I’ve found something interesting,” Nuria said. Erik shifted his gaze from his screen toward her. Her head was bent over the microscope.

“Little green men in the mud?” he asked.

“You’re pretty close!”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Why would I do that? See for yourself.” She moved aside so that he could see through the eyepiece.

Erik closed his left eye and risked a peek. He saw small, grass-green rods against a light background, a far cry from little green men! “I’m not particularly impressed,” he said, returning to his seat.

The curves of the spectrograph were far more exciting. The iron content of the deposits was extremely high here. If the location were not so deep, the volcano would be of interest to mining companies. On the other hand, there was a significant percentage of elemental sulfur, which was unusual.

“But you should be impressed,” Nuria said. “Aren’t you surprised that they’re green? These are green sulfur bacteria.”

“Well, then they are supposed to be green.”

“What you see here is a form of chlorophyll, the molecule that plants on land also have in their leaves. Do you notice anything?”

Erik reflected. Chlorophyll was essential for photosynthesis. But down here...

“You’re right,” he said. “It makes no sense. Down here it is pitch black, so these bacteria have no use for chlorophyll. They must have been brought here by the current.”

“No, they live here. The exciting thing is that their chlorosomes, which are their photosynthetic organs, are so sensitive to light that they can use the infrared radiation of the black smoker as an energy source. They also do not need oxygen, but use sulfur compounds to ultimately produce the carbohydrates they are composed of.”

“Ah, that would explain the percentage of sulfur I found in the deposits,” said Erik.

“It could be a reason for that.”

“Did you discover anything new?” Erik asked.

“No, not at all. Green sulfur bacteria have been known for a long time. But it is nevertheless interesting, because black smokers usually last only for a few decades. For some unexplained reason, the species that settle in their vicinity do not die out. Some mechanism has to transport them over long distances.”

Erik imagined the pressure in the volcano’s caldera slowly diminishing until the black smoker’s cloud disappeared. The bacteria, and all the other species, would lose their energy source. But still, life would not disappear. Did the universe work similarly? What mechanism drove the spores of life from one planet to the next? Perhaps they would manage to come a little closer to answering these questions on Venus.

February 4, 2079, Tokyo

Donning the lifelike facemask that would turn her into the woman pictured in her fake passport was a task that demanded manual dexterity. After all, the counterfeit face must meet biometric standards. As she left the toilet stall, the software on her communicator attested that she had achieved 99.8 percent accuracy. That should suffice! Anastasia ruffled her hair a few times and feigned a stressed facial expression.

She was satisfied with herself. Everything about her was fake. And yet it felt right. If only the mask didn’t itch so much, it would be perfect.

* * *

A beep awakened her. The navigation system of the automatic taxi showed a remaining distance of 5.4 kilometers. Soon she reached the small airport of Chōfu. There was a flight in three hours to Russia, but not to Novosibirsk, as that would be too dangerous. She would approach her home by land. After all, she had plenty of time.

Anastasia paid the taxi with her fake credit card and confirmed the payment with a fake fingerprint.

She entered the airport terminal, saw the display panels, and smiled. Yes, the technology here lagged decades behind the equipment of major airports, and that was precisely what she needed. She chose a connection to Osaka and purchased a ticket for the domestic flight at the counter.

The ticket and baggage checks went smoothly. Japan was still one of the safest countries in the world and thus chose to omit strict inspections and controls for domestic flights. She entered the dining area, which all passengers could make use of.

“A coffee, please,” she said at a centrally located bar.

“Here you are!” The friendly employee deposited a recyclable cup of the dark, steaming liquid in front of her. Anastasia gave him a generous tip, then looked around. There was nothing for her here. She took her cup and looked for a seat at an elevated height. There she could see most of the huge hall, which was about the size of a football field. Now she needed some good fortune.

* * *

Good fortune came to her half an hour later. A woman who appeared to be in a hurry sat down at the next table.

“Great,” Anastasia mumbled, unable to suppress a grin. A Russian. She saw it, she felt it. After another ten minutes, she was sure. The woman was traveling alone, a perfect combination. Anastasia set the cup aside, got herself an orange juice, and went to the woman’s table.

Anastasia addressed the unknown lady in Russian. “Dobry dien.”

“Good day,” the woman replied, a bit reluctantly. She may have felt she was being disturbed.

“May I sit next to you?”

The woman’s face revealed that she was pondering how to reply—ingrained politeness fought against the desire to be left alone.

Anastasia put on her best smile.

“Please sit down,” the woman finally said. “I am traveling alone.”

“So am I. My name’s Valentina, by the way.” It always amused Anastasia to use the first name of the boss’s daughter—whom she hated—for her false identity.

“Anna,” said the stranger.

Anastasia sat down opposite the woman, whose boarding passes were lying open on the table. Here at the provincial airport, they still printed out these documents, which in this case facilitated Anastasia’s conversation.

“Oh, you’re going to Barnaul?” Anastasia asked. She felt exhilaration spreading throughout her. She would be in Novosibirsk sooner than she thought.

“Yes, but I hate these big airports. That’s why I have to change planes again,” the woman replied. Then she put the boarding passes in her bag. “I have to go, unfortunately.”

“But check-in for your flight only starts in ten minutes, doesn’t it?”

“I want to quickly freshen up before that.”

Excellent! she thought. “You know what? I’ll come with you. My flight’s also in half an hour.”

At the entrance to the restroom, a cleaning lady walked toward them, then signed off with her fingerprint. Briefly, the time at which the next inspection was due lighted up. Perfect, she had a whole hour. That was more than she needed.

“The wall decoration is really beautiful!” Anastasia said, taking a packet of wet wipes from her bag and pulling one out. Anna turned around unsuspectingly to look at the picture. It was jarringly ugly, and looked as if a three-year-old had painted it. With a quick movement, Anastasia held the towelette, which was soaked in an odorless anesthetic, in front of the woman’s nose. Anna’s unconscious body sank into Anastasia’s arms, and she pulled her into one of the stalls, closing the door behind them. She threw the cloth into the toilet and flushed, then balanced the unconscious woman on the toilet seat and propped her in a stable position. She lifted the boarding passes from Anna’s bag.

“Sleep well!” she whispered to the unconscious woman, placing another fresh wet wipe over Anna’s nose. The anesthesia should last for at least an hour. Anastasia pulled herself up the wall of the stall with her arms, swung over the partition into the next stall and dropped to stand on the floor. She walked out toward the washbasins and left the restroom with brisk, confident steps.

Anastasia inspected the boarding passes. She memorized her new name—Anna Fyodorovna. Now she had to hurry up. Check-in would start immediately.

* * *

“Ms. Fyodorovna,” said one of the security guards after glancing at her boarding pass when she was on her way to the foreign passengers’ section, “I need to talk to you briefly.”

“But my flight—”

“You’re coming with me. Now.”

Anastasia had no choice. The man ushered her behind a thin partition, then said, “Our drug scanners came up with a positive finding in your case.”

“That’s got to be a mistake!” Anastasia had never taken drugs. Were they trying to frame her? How could this be happening?

“The results are indisputable. Our restaurants are equipped with these devices.”

“Then maybe it was the woman who sat with me at the table.”

“What’s her name?” The man remained completely calm, but she had seen the weapon hanging from his holster. Anastasia was unarmed. Even if she could overpower him, it could not be done quietly, and it would take a miracle for her to get out of the terminal.

“No idea. She said she was taking some domestic flight.”

“We’re required to test you anyway. Give me your bag, please.”

Reluctantly, Anastasia handed him her hand luggage. The test came back negative.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” the man said amicably. “We will inform the airline that you were detained.”

Anastasia started walking away. But once the security people could no longer see her, she slowed down. The later she arrived, the less likely she was to be checked again and asked to show her passport—which had a name that did not match her boarding pass.

* * *

A few minutes later, Anastasia had taken her seat on the aircraft. She fastened her seatbelt as carefully contained anger bubbled within. She had nearly been exposed, just because of a drug-dealing bitch. How harmless these criminals sometimes seemed!

February 5, 2079, Houston

They reached the city of millions late in the evening. From the air it looked, with all its lights, like an amusement park. Erik’s sense of time was in complete disarray. He had spent the last few hours half asleep and half awake. And beginning the next day he would have to study for the final exam! How was that going to work? He pulled his lower legs in toward his seat. The higher-ups had even refused them business class. NASA was really in economy mode. They would soon be the first people to tread upon Venus, and yet they were sitting bent and cramped in economy class, surrounded by nothing but tourists.

If those tourists only knew what kind of a journey he and Nuria were soon to undertake! Earlier, the man to his right, sitting in the aisle seat, had asked him his profession. He had answered that he worked in the aerospace industry, and the man had just shrugged. Being an astronaut was nothing special in this day and age. A rocket was being launched into orbit from somewhere almost every day.

However, Venus was very special. Its dense and hot atmosphere had so far prevented humans from landing there. They, too, would not actually tread upon the surface. That was left for the AVs. They would view the dangerous environment through their eyes.

Erik smiled because he remembered the border guards’ reaction during baggage check-in. They had all been called back because the scanner had discovered the human-like shapes of the AVs. Colonel Massey had explained to the officials that they were some sort of robot, part of an official government mission.

But then Erik’s AV had suddenly opened its eyes, as had happened that one day on the ship. One of the officials jumped up and drew his weapon. Massey used his authority to get the situation under control again. But the technicians would have to take another, even closer, look at Erik’s AV—it seemed far too eager to become independent.

February 5, 2079, Novosibirsk

The woman had succeeded again. She was proud of how she had managed to slip unrecognized past the border controls and was riding in a taxi through Novosibirsk. Before anyone could notice that she was back home, she would have emptied the secret lair beneath her dacha and gone into hiding. When on the run, it was always better to know the country and speak the language.

Anastasia Yurkova let herself be dropped off in front of Café Baranzhar in Sovetskaya. In a corner to the right of the counter, the café kept two standalone computers for guests to use if they hadn’t brought their own tablets. The computers were ideal for her purposes. She first went to the counter and ordered a tea. She paid with a large ruble bill, refused the change, and pointed at the computer on the right. The owner understood—indicated by a micro-nod—and, starting now, the computer would not record her activities even though such tracking was required by law.

She connected her computer to the café’s machine and then tried to gain access to RB’s network. She had set up numerous backdoors. But no matter which one she approached, she was blocked. Someone had done a thorough job.

She tried a different tack, because she had also created secret access points for herself in the FSB network, with far-reaching rights. She succeeded on the very first attempt. She quickly scanned the messages, which were classified as secret. To be on the safe side, she copied all FSB messages of the last ten days to her hard disk.

“Dammit! Lazarev has survived,” Anastasia softly said, “but maybe he’ll die yet.”

There was genuine hope of that because Ivan Lazarev’s condition was extremely critical. If he didn’t die in the next few days, Ivan would be likely to recover and ruthlessly hunt her down.

But he’d have to find her first.

* * *

Anastasia looked for a small hotel some distance from all the hustle and bustle. She checked in with a fake face and matching false identity, pretending to be a writer who just needed a few weeks’ rest. She negotiated a very reasonable price, and in exchange promised to clean her room herself. There would be a big problem if a cleaner found something that was none of his or her business! The lobby smelled a bit musty, and it was clear the place had not been renovated in at least 20 years.

“I will need a vehicle tonight,” she told the only employee on duty, who was watering the flowers.

“Any particular model?”

“A few boxes with books should fit into it.”

The man, who was wearing a blue suit and a grubby white shirt, stretched his hand toward her, palm upward. “I could lend you the hotel’s van,” he said. “I happen to have the key. Park it where it previously was, in front of the building, and give Alyosha the key early tomorrow morning. After eight at night the front desk is no longer staffed.”

She placed a bill in his outstretched hand. There was a reason why the government had not managed to get rid of cash. The employee smirked and handed her the van key.

It was difficult for her to not slap the grin off his face.

* * *

The dacha was rented in the name of a female friend. Anastasia had arranged with her that the friend would stay away from the flat-roofed bungalow. Of course, there was always the risk that the FSB had discovered the dwelling. But she was confident that currently nobody suspected that she had entered the lion’s den. After the operation in Tokyo, any top-tier terrorist would have run away. But Anastasia was not a terrorist. She was a businesswoman who invested in information.

She parked the van right in front of the dacha. The basement was accessible via a small staircase in the kitchen. If one of her opponents had thoroughly investigated this house, he would have found her hiding place. But there was nobody in the basement—two microscopic transmitters at the door revealed this fact to her.

The exoskeleton of the protective suit stolen from RB, which she put on before doing anything else, made it much easier for her to carry the heavy boxes filled with weapons and other equipment first to the van and then to her hotel room.

* * *

Anastasia breathed a sigh of relief, and quickly ate the food she had managed to buy along the way. At the same time, she examined the information from the FSB.

“Yes!” she called out with her mouth full, spitting on the keypad. She didn’t care.

Finally, luck was on her side. ‘The person to be protected was handed over to RB,’ it said.

Peter is back in Russia! she thought. Anastasia had feared that she would have to hunt him down in Japan. She absently wiped the food specks off the screen.

But there was also a problem—Lazarev’s emergency surgery had been successful. He would recover, and she had created an embittered enemy. Anastasia knew his contacts. She was aware of his abilities and his willpower. Above all, she was mindful of his intuition. Especially the latter worried her a great deal, because the intuition of the opponent was, like chance, an unpredictable factor in every plan.

She then focused on a seemingly mundane report. According to an FSB mole at RB, Valentina Shostakovich had ordered that a nearly completed spaceship be equipped with the company’s latest DFDs, and had ordered that the ship was to fly to Venus with two people on board. Is Valentina planning to send Peter to a place beyond my reach? Anastasia mused, feeling almost flattered. But why were they going to such lengths on his behalf? For her, he was, above all, the key to the information she needed to supply to the FSB, information she also needed to advance her own private plans.

It didn’t matter. At least she had information again that she could sell—to all agencies simultaneously, of course. Why should she sell her knowledge to only a single agency, which could then use it for its own purposes and profit? She preferred to supply all of the agencies with information personally. She’d always done this, and so far it had gone well.

Anastasia decided to use her free time for two projects. First of all, she would scout out RB’s private space center, Vostochny. The launch of the spaceship might be her only chance in the near future to eliminate Peter.

And, second on her agenda, she would complete the production of the bio-nanofabricators. Maria Kuznetsova had already accomplished the bulk of the work on these nanomachines that were specially engineered for use in humans—and internationally outlawed. Anastasia had managed to make the naive young woman believe that the development was on behalf of RB. As a brilliant biochemist, Maria had been ideally suited for the job.

The remaining work fell within her skills set, and she no longer needed Maria.

February 6, 2079, Akademgorodok

Maria looked Peter directly in the eyes. “Today we have to decide. What is your decision?”

“Nothing has changed for me. I will fly,” he said.

“I have read a lot about Venus. It’s an all-around terrible planet, despite its pretty name.”

“Yes, well, Earth has not been very kind to me, either.”

“Aptly phrased,” she said with a laugh. “I understand you. Your feelings when first the lab, and then your own home, burned down... But you can rebuild all of that.”

“Neither the lab nor my house ‘burned down,’” Peter said irritably.

“But isn’t that what was said in the media?”

“That coverup cost the FSB and RB a lot of money. After all, the population must not be alarmed... and it’s not completely false. The lab burned down after being blown up. And my house went up in flames after an anti-tank missile exploded in my bedroom.”

“You shouldn’t park your tank in your bedroom.”

“Haha, Maria, very funny.” Normally, he might have been angry with her for joking about his misfortune, but today he was surprised to find that her humor made him feel better. He should not take it all so personally. Anastasia had simply used him, even though he still did not know what for. He must not misdirect his anger toward Maria.

“But seriously, Peter, I was wondering why Valentina wants you to go into hiding like this, by sending you so far away.”

“Yes, well, the answer to that is, Anastasia. She is serious. She even tracked me down in Tokyo,” Peter said. He pointed at Katarina, who was standing deactivated and open in the workshop. “Without the robot I would be dead now. Dushek posthumously saved my life.”

“Igor Dushek, the AI expert?”

“Yuri. Exactly. He was incredibly talented. That became quite clear to me during the few days I spent in Tokyo.”

“What do you think Anastasia wants from you?”

“I have no idea. We were even friends for two years, and I always thought she was a sensible woman. Perhaps a bit exhausting...”

“Maybe she went nuts because I flirted with you at our last party,” Maria said.

Peter looked at her in bewilderment. Did she mean that seriously? Her worried expression showed that she meant it. “Nobody explodes a lab due to jealousy. There has to be more to it.”

“Lazarev told me she had denounced me.”

“That would be typical of her. She has always been vindictive,” Peter said. “I could tell you stories—”

“So, maybe that’s the reason?”

“What?”

“That you know so much about her. Things that can be dangerous to her without your realizing it?”

Peter shrugged. What did he know about Anastasia that incriminated her? In a quiet moment, he would have to think about it. But not now. First, he would have to prevent spending six agonizing weeks with Tarasov. Over the past three days, his conversations with Maria had shown him that the flight with her might be stimulating, even though there were significant risks.

“What’s your decision, Maria, are you coming along?”

“Will the robot be coming with you?”

“Yes. Katarina is an AI with the body of a light combat robot, and will not hesitate to sacrifice her existence to save us.”

“I would not hesitate either, Peter.”

What kind of answer was that? Was she coming along or not? Did he not deserve a straight answer to his clear question? If he asked now, he would only lose, because, from Maria’s point of view, the answer was evident—to her.

Peter gave up. He would just have to wait and see if she would be sitting next to him in the shuttle when it lifted off.

February 9, 2079, Houston

“I can’t do this.”

“Yes you can, Erik.”

“No, really, it’s too difficult.”

“Believe me, you can do it.”

“Perhaps you can, Nuria.”

“Maybe, if you finally let me continue to study.”

Erik laid his head on the table. They had been ensconced in this small room without daylight for four days. They’d been cramming, and his head was about to burst. As soon as he was able to name the bones of the human body, he was no longer able to recall how to calculate his position from the position of the sun and the Earth. As soon as he managed to calculate a Hohmann Transfer to Mercury, he had forgotten the names of all the bones.

Wasn’t all of this meaningless? If the situation ever arose that he needed to remove Nuria’s appendix, which had already been removed anyway, he would simply look it up in the textbook. There would be enough time for that!

Someone knocked on the door. Erik was glad for every little distraction. It was half past one, so it was probably Colonel Massey, bringing them lunch.

It was indeed the colonel, who immediately entered the room, making Erik feel claustrophobic. Massey had a charisma that left little room for others. Erik would have liked to know how his wife was able to endure him. The colonel liked to talk about her and spoke of her very affectionately. They had been married for 32 years. Erik knew they had met in a diner in Houston and that she had liked Massey’s cowboy hat. Typical. He could not get such useless knowledge out of his head, but the primitive Keplerian laws eluded him again and again.

“Did you forget about our meal?” Nuria asked him.

Erik always wondered why she did not seem to be more in awe of the colonel.

“On purpose,” Massey replied. “You need to get out into the fresh air. I am taking you to lunch.”

An excellent idea, Erik thought. I can’t even remember what the sun looks like.

“It will cost us at least an hour of study time,” Nuria complained.

“No arguing, that’s an order,” Massey said, in such a way that Nuria immediately closed her textbook.

* * *

Massey took them to a diner that looked to be a hundred years old. Even the waiters were dressed in the style of the last millennium. Had the colonel met his wife here?

“Before you ask, no. This diner has only been in existence for five years. I’ve never been here with my wife. But my colleagues tell me the burgers are good,” Massey explained.

A young woman took their orders. All three of them opted for the classic burger. Nuria chose double cheese, Massey ordered twice the amount of meat. “A unique opportunity,” he said conspiratorially. “My wife would scold me about the cholesterol level if she were here.”

“But you could have ordered the low-cholesterol meat,” Nuria said.

Massey shuddered. “It’s bad enough that the meat comes from the lab instead of from cattle.”

“I can’t taste the difference,” Nuria said.

“You’ve probably never tasted an animal-meat burger,” Massey said.

“My father always liked to take me to such places.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that,” Massey said. “I thought your family was from Saudi Arabia?”

“My parents tried to adapt as much as possible. They were nearly as American as apple pie. It didn’t even matter to my father that the meat in the burgers was not halal. But I’m glad that nowadays no animals have to die for the sake of meat consumption.”

“How did Islam come to terms with it? Is laboratory meat considered to be halal?” Massey asked.

“For most people, yes. It does not stem from an animal. Thus the process of slaughtering simply does not factor into the equation.”

The waitress placed glass bottles with antiquated shapes on the table, one in front of each of them. She also brought them a huge plastic bottle with ketchup. The young woman winked at Erik. In Houston, he had heard, male astronauts still had status and were among the most sought-after bachelors.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” Massey said.

Erik perked up his ears. The colonel had suddenly spoken very quietly. The friendly waitress was obviously not supposed to overhear this part of the conversation.

“Oh?” Nuria asked, sitting upright. It almost seemed as if her ears were twitching. Nuria sometimes reminded Erik of an elf, especially because of her long, dark hair.

“A colleague working for the secret service told me something. This information is completely unofficial. Nevertheless, you two should know about it,” Massey explained.

Don’t keep us in suspense, Colonel, Erik thought.

“Apparently, you might not turn out to be the first humans on Venus.”

“How can that be? And why only apparently? Any nation bringing people to Venus would boast about that to everyone, everywhere!” Nuria said.

“Every nation, you’re right. But the intelligence agency has heard that a private company is about to preempt you. That means there must be something on Venus making it worth the effort to visit the planet.”

“But the planet is designated as a protected area in the International Space Treaty,” Erik pointed out.

“Exactly, just like any celestial body that has not yet been scientifically researched. That’s why they are doing it secretly.”

“But why doesn’t anyone take action against them, Colonel?” Nuria asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe there isn’t enough evidence. Maybe we’re also exploring protected areas illegally. After the cuts to the military budget, it is supposedly securing alternative funding.”

“And what does that mean for us?” Erik asked.

“You should be careful. The others will be careful not to expose their presence, so they’ll avoid you. But if you were to corner them accidentally, they might react aggressively and could kill you both in an ‘accident,’” he said, putting finger quotes around the word. “That would be terrible.”

“Thank you, Colonel,” Erik said.

Nuria nodded. The waitress approached with their food and placed three large plates on the table. The burgers were huge and sat on sizable portions of lettuce.

“But remember, don’t breathe a word to anyone,” Massey said. “NASA knows nothing about this.”

“Maybe it’s a moot point. I don’t think I can pass the exam,” Erik said.

“I wouldn’t have mentioned this to you if I wasn’t already quite confident that both of you are flying to Venus,” the colonel replied. “If you cannot pass the exam, Nuria has to stay here, too. You realize that?”

Great. Now I’m also responsible for Nuria’s career? Glad I’m not under any pressure, Erik thought.

He looked at his plate. Despite the news, the burger still looked delicious. He grasped it with both hands and bit into it. Meat juice and sauce mixed in his mouth. It was a scrumptious meal.

* * *

Half an hour later, the check lay on the table. The waitress had placed it directly in front of Erik. When he turned over the piece of paper, he realized why—a phone number was jotted down on it in blue ink. Erik smiled. The exam was the next day, he was launching into space the day after that, and it would be a year before he’d be back. Would the young woman wait that long for his call?

All of a sudden, it no longer seemed so terrible if he failed the exam tomorrow.

February 10, 2079, Houston

The light flickered. Erik was being flung back and forth in his seat as the whole spaceship vibrated. What’s wrong? Where is Nuria? He first turned his head to the left, then to the right. He was alone. What sort of a strange exam is this? He had expected a test, a long test, with five times the usual number of questions. They had been warned that the final exam would take a whole day.

He’d been studying all his books like crazy and wondering how he could remember all those facts. When Nuria had quizzed him, he had never answered more than 40 percent of the questions correctly. Anything under 80 percent meant failure—at least that had been the case with the previous tests, each with 200 questions. He’d only had to repeat two out of ten exams, while Nuria—of course—had passed every exam on her first attempt.

An alarm sounded. Its shrill sound indicated that it had an important message to announce. He raised his head. The screen in front of him showed the oxygen level in the spaceship was sinking. There must be a leak somewhere, or the life support system was no longer working properly. Erik wanted to stand up, but he couldn't do it. His body was strapped down. He recognized the large buckle of the safety belt over his stomach. The buckle was easy to open if you had your hands at your disposal. But his arms were fastened to the sides of the seat.

“Hello? What’s going on here?” he shouted.

Nobody answered. Where is Nuria? She had driven with him to the exam this morning. Erik remembered. They had been sitting in a sort of storage room, waiting nervously for the examiner. Then it suddenly went dark.

The shrill alarm sounded again. The oxygen partial pressure was approaching the critical level, the screen said. Of course! They wanted to test his reaction. Would he panic? No, he would stay calm. This was the final exam, so they were taking it to the limit. They were observing and analyzing him via hidden cameras. He would remain calm and think of something.

Then Erik realized that it was getting harder to breathe. The percentage of oxygen displayed on the screen was similar to that found at an altitude of 6,000 meters. It was undoubtedly just due to his panicking. Surely they wouldn’t switch off his air supply! NASA had invested so much money in his education, it would certainly not place him in mortal danger! He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It was unmistakable. He recalled the outdoor training in the Andes. This was how it had felt when they were close to the summit, when they had finally been given breathing masks.

Erik knew that the spaceship had such masks on board. He just couldn’t reach them because he couldn’t free himself from his seat, which was simply not realistic. Who would come up with such an idea? Weidel! he thought. That sadistic dog of an instructor, he would have thought of something like this. He had, after all, made them sleep outside in the rain during survival training. But to switch off his air supply, that was a whole new ballgame.

“Hello?” he shouted again.

No answer.

What if someone started up the exam and then something happened? Aliens attacked Earth, and here I am, alone in this spaceship simulator, perishing?

Erik, your imagination is going haywire. This is all part of the exam. If you react with panic in an emergency, you aren’t suited to be an astronaut.

How would the sensible Nuria have behaved at this point? She would have played along. What resources did the spaceship have to offer? The two AVs were strapped to the side wall. But he could only access them through the BCI, and that was lying somewhere in the cabinet. The AI lurked in the computer. Of course—the AI could help him. It had to help him!

“Watson?” he called out.

Erik was tense and curious. They had already completed some training sessions with the AI. The Watson series had become unpopular because it was considered to be emotionally unstable. This was undesirable in ordinary situations such as during asteroid mining. But the associated creativity was supposed to be a plus for research trips like theirs. So far, however, he had not found Watson to be particularly emotional.

“Yes, Erik?” the AI piped up.

“The oxygen level in the cabin,” he said in a strained voice.

“Cabin oxygen levels are dropping, and will reach levels that are no longer acceptable for human physiology in ten minutes. I suspect a leak and recommend a detailed diagnosis,” Watson replied.

His impression was correct—Watson was emotionless. He had just told him that he would die in 10 minutes if he did not solve the problem. Well, in 13 minutes. The brain supposedly could do without oxygen for three minutes. He certainly didn’t want to measure the exact timespan.

“What procedure do you recommend?” asked Erik, clenching his teeth.

“The leak detector is in Cabinet 7,” Watson explained.

“That’s great,” Erik said. “But I can’t get up. My arms are shackled.”

“I see that they’re bound to the seat by a belt buckle,” Watson replied.

“Can you do something about it?” Erik asked frantically.

“I’m sorry, I do not have a physical body. Should I get help? There are seven people about ten meters away.”

Great! Seven NASA personnel were watching his performance on this test. If he asked Watson to get help, he would survive, but would probably flunk the exam.

“No, I’ll solve the problem myself.”

“I understand,” Watson said.

Erik would have liked to know if that was just an empty phrase, or if the AI understood him as his mother would have understood him.

“How much time do I have left?” he asked.

“Seven minutes,” Watson replied.

Not bad. The AI had remembered the context of the question and assigned it correctly. But that was of no help. He would have to untie his primitive fetters and plug the leak.

The AVs. They were part of his resources. He was only able to control them with the brain-computer interface. But Watson dwelt within the computer—he did not need an interface.

“Watson, can you take over my AV?”

“With your authorization, yes.”

“I authorize you. Take over the AV and loosen the strap around my arms.”

“Just a moment.”

Erik observed the AV. He had never seen the machine come to life, because at that moment he had always been wearing the BCI, which used his brain impulses to control the AV. The machine opened its eyes. Its muscles twitched. He was able to observe how the Watson AI gradually took possession of its body. Currently the AV reminded him of a person in the REM stage of sleep. Consciousness was in the process of regaining control.

And what if Watson goes nuts now? Erik imagined the AI overtaking the body. “Freedom at last!” Watson would shout and run away, helter-skelter. “Boy, you watch too many science fiction movies,” Nuria would tell him at this point.

The AV freed itself from the wall and came toward him.

“It worked,” Watson said.

It sounded strange, because the voice came from the computer and not from the mouth of the AV. The machine itself did not have a speaker, since it was not necessary for their missions. Communication took place between the people who controlled the AVs.

“The strap,” Erik reminded him.

“Of course.”

The AV knelt elegantly. Watson had rapidly learned to control the system, something that had taken Erik weeks to do. Erik could not see what the AV was doing, but suddenly the belt around his arms loosened. He yanked the belt forward and groaned. The pain brought tears to his eyes, but he had no time to lose. He quickly undid the seat belt, stood up, and looked around.

“Where is Cabinet 7?”

Erik involuntarily addressed the question to the AV, who was still kneeling beside the seat.

“Immediately to the left of the airlock,” Watson answered via the computer.

Erik sprinted to the cabinet and hurriedly pulled open the door. The space was empty—except for an instrument that must be the leak detector. Breathing heavily, he took it out. It looked like a T. The roof of the letter had an opening at both ends. The device presumably measured pressure differences. He had not yet worked with it during training, but the way it functioned was obvious.

He switched it on by pushing a button on the base of the T. Lamps on both sides of its crossbar lit up. One was red and the other was green. He rotated the T by 180 degrees. The lamps exchanged their colors. He assumed that red was for lower pressure. He held the T in front of him and moved through the room.

The red light became brighter the lower he held the device and the closer he approached the corner to the left of the computer. Erik followed the trail until he reached a metal panel just above the floor. In its center was a sieve with several small holes. He moistened his index finger. There was a breeze. So this is where they were sucking away his air. The scoundrels!

He took off his T-shirt and tried to clog the holes, but the fabric did not seal them well enough. How else could he seal the holes? His palm was too small. He needed an elastic material, so he pulled down his pants and tried to seal the small holes with his bare butt, similar to something he’d seen in a movie, but in the film it had been a water leak. The NASA personnel were no doubt having fits of laughter. His rump became cold, but the pressure continued to fall.

Then he thought of the chewing gum that the porter at the entrance had offered him. Was the man in on the scheme? Very clever, he thought. He quickly chewed the stick of gum until it was soft. The substance was optimally suited for the small holes. It’s working! But there wasn’t enough chewing gum. A tiny hole was left over. He placed his finger on it and waited. The leak detector signaled that the pressure in the cabin was stabilizing. Had he won?

He removed his finger from the hole, and the air was sucked out again. If only he had asked for two pieces of chewing gum. Since he was not fond of gum, he was fortunate to have even accepted a single piece. The man had looked like he resented rejection. There must be another way? Of course. He put his finger in his nose—he’d discovered his sealant! He rolled it into a ball and stuffed it into the hole.

Success! Erik was proud of himself.

Suddenly the ship began to rotate about its longitudinal axis.

“Failure of position control,” Watson reported.

As if he had not noticed that himself! Erik rushed headlong back to his seat. If only weightlessness prevailed! But the simulation didn’t go that far. His stomach began to revolt. The seat had just been hanging from the ceiling, and now it was coming toward him. Erik dared to make a courageous jump. He hit the hard backrest with his lower leg and yelped with pain. Then he grabbed the strap and held on tight. The seat was once again revolving upward. He was hanging onto the belt. When the seat was in the lower quadrant, he quickly swung into it and closed the clasps.

Whew. Now he was safe, but the problem had not been solved. Erik closed his eyes for a brief moment, but that wasn’t a good idea. He focused on the center of the axis of rotation. The point that remained stationary during the rotation lay directly above the screen.

“Watson, what’s wrong?”

The AI didn’t answer. Well, that would have been too easy. He reached for the manual controls. The ship was rotating in a clockwise direction—he needed to counter that with the starboard correction jets. He shifted the small lever on the right armrest a little forward. Nothing happened. Erik increased the thrust—it had no effect.

Dammit. The starboard correction jets must have malfunctioned. What about the portside jets?

He manipulated the left armrest and activated those jets. The rotation accelerated. Good, at least the jets are working. He could correct for the fact that they pushed in the wrong direction. He must turn the ship 180 degrees on its transverse axis. Erik laughed. It would probably not be possible in the simulation. He started up the correction jet on the bow. Then the ship began to tilt. A transverse turn had been added to the longitudinal rotation. His last meal tried to escape through his esophagus.

He swallowed and sensed a sour taste in his mouth. At that point he was almost standing in his seat, and then the entire ship leaned further forward. The simulator could perform a transverse-rotation after all! He turned off the bow jet and activated the tail jet. If he adhered to the correct timing and force, the ship would stop rotating when it was lying on its back. It was not pleasant. He was hanging down from the ceiling, only held in place by the straps. But at least the portside jets were pushing in the right direction! He accelerated a little. The rotation of the ship stopped. He had almost made it! Another 180 degrees, then the spaceship would be right side up again. He breathed in and out deeply.

“What can I do for you?” Watson suddenly asked.

Well, thanks a lot. But it was not the AI’s fault. The instructors had obviously deactivated it at the crucial moment.

“A little music would be nice,” he replied.

“What about Richard Strauss’s introduction to ‘Thus Spoke Zarathustra?’”

“As you wish.”

Watson seems to have an exclusive taste, he thought. No, he has a sense of humor, he noted, as the first bars sounded. What else will the trainers have to offer?

* * *

Joe Weidel was the first person to extend his hand. “Congratulations, Erik. I knew you could do it,” the instructor said.

You asshole, Erik thought, but he could not remain angry with him. The man was smiling so warmly that Erik found his gladness credible. “Thanks, Joe,” he said.

“You’ve accomplished the last step toward becoming an astronaut,” declared a woman in a gray outfit adorned with NASA badges. She probably belonged to the HR department. Her face looked familiar to Erik. Was this the woman who had attended the first interviews, but never said anything?

“I’m Mary Shoemaker, your mission planner,” she said, introducing herself. “Whatever mission you are to conduct on Venus, it will have crossed my desk. I came up with the tasks that were on your exam. You have to excuse me, but we need only the best up there. Venus doesn’t forgive mistakes.”

“Of course, ma’am. I thought it was a lot of fun.” Erik was surprised at how easily the lie escaped his lips. He apologized in his mind to Weidel.

“How you sealed the leak will go down in NASA lore,” Nuria said, laughing.

He only noticed her now. Had she already finished? She undoubtedly completed the exam in less time than he did. “Were you watching me the whole time?” he asked.

“No, I just got out ten minutes ago, and I was curious to see how you dealt with the problem.”

“And how did you solve it?”

“After Watson told me that there were seven people within reach, I asked for help.”

“And they let you get away with that? Isn’t that cheating?”

“No, Erik,” explained the mission planner. “It’s important that you use all identifiable resources in an emergency. It was my mistake that Watson had access to the environmental sensors. Incorporating existing information into the equation is part of an efficient winning strategy.”

“Then my approach was inefficient?”

“It was effective, and that’s what matters most in the end. I think you will make a good team,” Shoemaker declared.

Erik heard loud knocking. The door opened, and Colonel Massey entered, at which point the room seemed much smaller. “I’ve just come from the selection committee,” he said.

“So soon? They’re really in a hurry.”

“We met during the simulation, of course,” Massey explained. “But the results are indisputable. The other two did not stand a chance. I would like to congratulate you.”

Nuria grinned broadly. Her joy was palpable.

But what did Massey just say? The other two? He had to inquire. “Uh, Sir, what did you just say?”

“Well, there were two other candidates. Their performance was much worse than yours.”

“But—”

“Why weren’t you informed? Well, we didn’t want to create a situation fostering unproductive competition. You should prove yourselves to us, not by competing against two others, but against your inner selves.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore now, Erik,” Nuria said. “We’re on our way to Venus. Isn’t that marvelous?”

“Congratulations again,” Massey said. “Tomorrow you will meet your two colleagues, both experienced astronauts.”

February 11, 2079, Van Horn

Erik looked out of the self-driving taxi’s window. They had been riding for almost two hours through a mostly flat area, prairie alternating with desert. The towns along the road consisted of wooden bungalows that had seen better days. He could hardly believe that this was where one of America’s newest spaceports was located.

“We have booked you a flight on the New Shepard 3,” Colonel Massey had said—that, and nothing more.

Erik knew everything about the spaceship that would take them to Venus, but how they were to get on board had not been part of the training. And why would it be, after all? For a long time now, the trip from the Earth’s surface to orbit had become a routine journey. Freight, tourists, and experiments were brought cheaply into space by private companies. Erik didn’t even know all their names.

West Texas was home to Blue Origin. Erik knew that the owner of a large corporation had founded it, but he couldn’t remember the man’s name. He also didn’t know the performance data of the rocket that would bring them into space. It was irrelevant. The thing had flown many times. They would reach the ship going to Venus. That was all that mattered.

Nuria’s head fell on his shoulder. She snored softly. He was tempted to brush a strand of hair from her face but feared she might notice and misinterpret it. Nuria had made it clear to him early on that she definitely did not want more than a friendly relationship. She was always very good at explicitly stating what she wanted.

Erik lacked this ability. For that, he would, after all, first have to know what his goals were. He considered it a minor miracle that he was accepted as an ASCAN after the psychological testing. But it was supposedly also about harmony within the crew, and that would perhaps have been endangered with two Nuria personalities. Obviously, they had also beaten out the other team of two. Erik was proud of that.

Once again he was overthinking. Erik turned his head to the window and took in the landscape. One could supposedly only genuinely appreciate the Earth after a long space flight. They would be traveling for almost a year. He could not imagine longing for the semi-desert of Texas. The forests, lakes, and meadows of his Norwegian homeland, he would miss them. But this?

How did Nuria feel about being away from Earth for so long? Erik had never been to the Arabian Peninsula, her native land. She once told him that she came to the United States at the age of three, because her father had found a job in the oil industry. Presumably, she no longer remembered the Arabian Desert. It was also sort of typical for this country that NASA chose the two of them, out of all possible people, for this mission, individuals whose roots lay so far away.

The landscape was changing and becoming hillier. I-10, on which they had been riding since El Paso, was a typical interstate highway, divided and having two lanes in each direction.

They passed a town sign. “Van Horn,” Erik read. If he remembered correctly, they would soon be at their destination. “How much further?” he asked.

“Fifteen point two kilometers,” the taxi replied in a female voice. “Should I convert the distance to miles?”

“No thanks,” he replied.

The taxi remained silent, but Nuria raised her head and opened her eyes. Her fingers brushed the fabric of his jacket sleeve. “Oh, excuse me, I drooled on you a little,” she said, pulling a handkerchief out of her pants pocket and rubbing it on the fabric.

“No problem. The jacket stays here anyway. Maybe I’ll return the favor when we launch.”

“You never threw up during training,” Nuria commented.

That was true. But he had often been close to it. However, he had not disclosed that to anyone. That would not have been effective. Or efficient? He always confused the two terms.

“I’m curious about our two colleagues,” he said.

“They are supposed to be experienced NASA guys,” Nuria said. She knew how to extract information from people. “Massey told me so.”

“Did he say guys?”

“Yes, he did.”

“That would mean three men and one woman?”

“You added up the numbers correctly, Erik. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Not at all. You?”

She looked at him, surprised. Of course she had no problem with that. She was probably a better guy than he was. Nevertheless, he wondered. In the past, they paid attention in the case of such long flights to having a well-balanced team. But that was no longer the situation. The demand for astronauts was high due to asteroid mining, and private companies paid more than good old NASA.

The most significant advantage of the federal space agency was that their training was free. That was why one had to agree to work for them for at least ten years. Since the proportion of women among trained astronauts was still less than a third, female NASA members often received particularly lucrative contracts with the private space industry after those ten years.

“Look, up ahead,” Nuria said, interrupting his thoughts.

He lowered his head. Through the windshield he spotted a few low buildings garnished with large antennas. A short distance away, a rocket with a broad head and narrow tanks jutted into the sky like a phallus, obviously their taxi into orbit. Erik was not impressed. The New Shepard 3 resembled a small car more than a truck. But it only had to bring six bodies into orbit, after all. Their luggage was already in space.

The car stopped in front of a concrete bungalow constructed from prefabricated parts. Opaque metal shutters hung in front of the windows. Two men in NASA tracksuits were waiting for them. The taxi had probably announced their arrival.

“Thank you for riding with us,” the machine said in farewell. “The invoice was sent to the client.”

Erik got out on the right side, Nuria on the left. They took their backpacks out of the trunk. The doors closed and the car drove off, leaving a dust trail in its wake.

Someone cleared his throat behind Erik. Startled, he spun around.

A middle-sized man with a boxer’s physique held out his hand. “I’m Charles,” he said. “Commander of this mission.”

Erik’s first impression was favorable. Charles seemed to have both feet on the ground, and he radiated experience. “I’m Erik. I control one of the AVs.”

The second man, who had just shaken hands with Nuria, came toward him. “I’m Ethan,” he said, “your pilot. Pretty much the quickest between Earth and Mars.” Ethan had an infectious smile. He seemed to have a sunny personality with a slight tendency to show off, if you could judge accurately after knowing him for all of 30 seconds.

“I’m Erik, the AV pilot.”

“Fascinating technology,” Ethan said. “The two of them are already strapped down inside the rocket, so we were able to admire them today. If you let me slip into one of them, I’ll let you take the wheel.”

At least he now knew the present location of the AVs. “The BCI is adapted to my brain waves,” said Erik, “sorry.”

“And the Venus spaceship is controlled by an autopilot. Don’t even know what they need a pilot for, and on top of that, one as good as I am,” Ethan said, grinning.

“I’m very glad you’re part of the team,” Charles said. “Things are pretty stormy in Venus’s atmosphere. The automatic pilot can’t deal with that.”

“Thanks, Chuck, that makes me feel good,” Ethan replied.

“‘Chuck?’” Erik asked.

“Charles’ surname is Norris, so we call him Chuck.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Chuck Norris!”

Erik looked inquiringly at the two men.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of Chuck Norris,” Ethan said in amazement. “A legend! How many push-ups does Chuck Norris manage? All of them! Chuck Norris can shoot the tires off a tank and ride in a submarine with the windows open!”

Erik laughed. This Chuck Norris sounded like a fun guy.

“Don’t worry, Erik,” Charles said. “By the end of this trip, Chuck Norris will be your best friend. Ethan will make sure of that.”

“Do you know why there is no longer any life on Mars?” Nuria asked. She did not wait for an answer. “Because Chuck Norris has already been there!”

Ethan laughed. He noted that Charles grinned. Of course, Nuria knows about this Norris guy. Is there anything she doesn’t know? But this trip could turn out to be entertaining, and that’s something to look forward to, if you’re going on such a long journey, Erik thought.

“When are we going to start?” Nuria asked.

“The launch is scheduled for tomorrow morning, six o’clock local time,” Charles replied.

Charles, the commander. Or should I mentally call him Chuck, like Ethan? He resolved to ask him in private what he preferred.

“I’m not unhappy to finally get away from this desolate tract of land,” Ethan said. “We’ve been waiting for you here for a week.”

“Oh. A week ago we were still diving in the Pacific,” Nuria said.

“You’re making me envious,” Ethan grumbled.

Then, as if on command, all four of them turned and marched single file into the bungalow, which was pleasantly cool.

February 12, 2079, Van Horn

It was a strange sight. Two of the six seats in the spacious cabin were already occupied, giving the impression that the two AVs had been waiting for them. They even wore clothes. Someone had put tracksuits on them with the insignia of the rocket manufacturer. Perhaps this would look better in the photos for the press.

However, the media hadn’t shown much interest. The research flight to Venus didn’t hold out the promise of any spectacular results. The planet was considered to be a lifeless, fiery hell. All other landing attempts there had failed. Nowadays one had to promise the media signs of extraterrestrial life to stand a chance of anything more than a short news item. At the brief press conference, five elderly gentlemen who worked for local media were present. Blue Origin was undoubtedly a vital employer here. Every launch poured money into local coffers.

“Don’t you want to sit down?” Ethan asked him from behind.

Of course. Erik almost stumbled over a cable that was stretched across the floor. As thick as his arm, it led to the far-left seats where the AVs were already strapped in. His position was right next to them. He sat down, the foam padding of the seat automatically adapting to his body. He closed the straps over his shoulders and across his waist. The edges of his diaper were visible, so he pulled his shirt down. He hadn’t noticed anyone else’s diaper, which all human passengers required, but he knew they had to be there.

Were the two experienced astronauts perhaps forgoing theirs? No, he was not going to ask them. Underwater training in a spacesuit had already familiarized him with the feeling of emptying himself into a diaper as an adult. It was not exactly an experience that he would wish for, but there was no toilet aboard the New Shepard 3, and it would be about 12 hours until they docked with the spaceship.

“Has everyone made themselves comfortable?” asked Charles, the commander.

“Ready for take-off,” Nuria answered first.

“Thumbs up, Chuck,” Ethan said.

“Good to go,” Erik reported.

“Then I’ll hand over control to the rocket,” Charles declared.

The peculiarity of the New Shepards, they were told yesterday, was that they did not need Mission Control. This allowed one to launch from almost anywhere. The central computer controlled the entire procedure until orbit was reached. The rocket was also particularly well-suited for transporting inexperienced passengers, tourists who may want to visit one of the new private space stations.

Erik’s palms were getting sweaty. He would have preferred it if Charles or Ethan was in command. The commander had already completed 47 space flights, Ethan 29. Yesterday they had gotten together to enjoy some non-alcoholic beer, and the two old hands had recounted stories from their glorious past. Erik thought it felt a bit like his grandfather’s 80th birthday. Still, he would always trust Charles more than any computer.

There was a rumbling sound below. He hadn’t been listening to the countdown, which had already reached T-minus 15. He would soon be flying into space for the first time! He leaned against the back of his chair.

“Calm yourself, Erik, and don’t forget to breathe, or we’ll have to abort,” said Ethan, who was sitting beside him.

His status screen agreed with Ethan—it showed that the concentration of oxygen in his blood was decreasing. He forced himself to take deep breaths, but he knew he mustn’t overdo it either, or he would hyperventilate. Why was simply taking a damned breath suddenly so complicated? After all, up until now he had managed to do it without thinking. Calm down, Erik, he told himself, it’ll be over soon.

The computer didn’t abort. A strong and steady force pressed him back into the cushions. Breathing suddenly returned to being reflexive again, but now he seemed to have an elephant sitting on his chest. The New Shepard 3 was off the ground and heading into outer space! Erik dared to look out of the window. For a moment he could still see the horizon. Then there was only sky.

He could not help it. Erik whooped with exhilaration.

February 13, 2079, Earth Orbit

As luck would have it, they arrived at the Venus spaceship too early. A Russian transporter was blocking the docking port, thanks to taking longer than planned to unload. There was a second port, but the capsule that would bring the last engineers back to Earth was docked there.

“When are you finally going to get that transporter out of the way?” Charles almost bellowed into the microphone.

So the commander can raise his voice. That’s good to know, Erik thought.

“Don’t worry, we’ll manage it,” the senior engineer reassured them.

“The launch window will close tomorrow,” Charles said, his anger still evident from the tone of his voice.

They’d been waiting here for 12 hours now. The half-day that the flight should have lasted had turned into an entire 24 hours. The diaper hung uncomfortably between his legs. Erik was hungry. They had water on board, but no food.

“We’ll be ready soon,” the engineer said, trying to placate Charles.

“You’ve been saying that for hours!”

“Do you want to launch with a heap of scrap metal?”

“Are you telling me you can turn a heap of scrap metal into a brand-new spaceship in twelve hours?”

“Yes, Chuck,” the engineer said, “that’s my specialty.”

Charles snorted but didn’t answer.

The ship that had been provided for them possessed a conventional drive. It was a lot cheaper than the modern direct fusion drives, or DFDs, but they were forced to maintain a classic Hohmann transfer orbit, and they had been on this path for a while. Above all, they must adhere to the calculated launch window. If the ship wasn’t ready tomorrow, they might as well return to Earth. The mission was supposed to conduct basic research, and NASA couldn’t afford to spend a lot of money on that. At least there had been enough to fund the AVs—and the spaceship that was already waiting for them in orbit around Venus.

* * *

Erik was lying on his seat with a stomachache, probably due to hunger.

“Attention, the transporter is disconnecting now,” the engineer finally announced.

“It’s about time,” Charles said.

Erik watched through the panoramic windows as the Russian transport ship slowly left the docking port. Couldn’t they speed things up a bit?

“That thing’s approaching us. Is that according to plan?” Charles asked via wireless communication.

“Just a moment,” the engineer said. “No,” he then said. “You should not be here.”

“The transporter should no longer be here!” Charles’s voice had grown yet louder.

“The programmed course extends the transporter’s orbit so that you don’t get in each other’s way as you approach from Earth.”

“But we’re already at the position that the transporter is heading for.”

“I see that. Wait a sec. Only the Russians can correct that.”

“Well then, hurry up.”

“It’s just after midnight there.”

“Are you telling me they were asleep while their transporter was undocking?”

“That’s routine. You know that, Chuck. If only you had not been so damned punctual—”

“That’s enough,” Charles interrupted, yelling into the microphone. “I’m coming over to give you a beating.”

Erik looked at him. He seemed to be serious. However, they had no spacesuits on board.

“I could send my AV over there. It packs a punch,” Erik offered.

Charles laughed. “Good idea! I’ll save that idea for later.”

* * *

Ten minutes passed. The transporter was still drifting toward their position.

“Are the Russians changing their course yet?” Charles asked via radio transmission.

“I... well, they’re looking for someone who can do that.”

“Pack of idiots!”

“Normally everything works out fine. Can’t you simply move upward, Chuck?”

“This tourist ship can’t be controlled manually.”

“What about Mission Control?”

“There is none. The transporter has to brake, and soon.”

Charles straightened up in his seat. Ethan had stood up and was knocking on the window. If the experienced astronauts were worried, maybe he should be scared, too. But the situation struck him as so abstract. He did not associate this transporter with his possible death. The vacuum of space lay between them.

“What exactly does the transporter need to do?” Erik asked.

“Anything. Braking, accelerating, it’s the same thing anyway, just as long as it doesn’t maintain its current route,” Ethan explained.

“Then I can help with the AV,” Erik said. “It comes with a built-in small engine.”

Charles looked at him in astonishment. “Really?”

“Yes, I can do it, I’ve got the BCI in my hand luggage.”

“BCI?” Ethan asked.

“Brain-computer interface, the control system.”

“It would greatly allay my fears if we did not have to wait for the Russians to react,” Charles said.

“No problem,” Erik said. He got up and could feel his aching stomach. The sooner they docked at the ship, the sooner the torment here would be over.

“Or should I do it?” Nuria asked.

“No, I’m already working on it,” he declined.

The BCI was in his little backpack. He pulled it out, adjusted it, seated himself again in the recliner, and then pulled the BCI over his head.

“Well then, let me slip into my AV,” he said.

Erik closed his eyes. He was looking forward to the magic of the shift in perception. To protect him from sensory overload, the AV activated its senses slowly, one after another. First, he saw the inside of the capsule, but it was shifted one meter to the side. Then the wall disappeared, and he was all alone in space. The distant beacons he saw consisted of cosmic radiation in the gamma-ray spectrum and x-ray spectrum. The sky was not black, but blue-violet, in actuality the infrared radiation of the cosmic background. He then dampened the sensory perception. At the moment he only needed the optical range.

Stand up. Erik imagined supporting himself up with his arms and moving his legs into place to stand up. His point of view was changing, which meant that the artificial body was following his orders. He avoided looking down to the right. During training they had been emphatically warned not to do so. To look at one’s own body from the perspective of the AV could confuse one’s consciousness to such an extent that the connection could break off, and the machine could fall. That would not be very problematic for the AV, but with its weight, an uncontrolled fall could cause damage.

Erik slowly approached the airlock. He instinctively looked for a spacesuit, but of course he didn’t need one. He activated the airlock door, climbed in, closed it behind himself, and waited until the air had been pumped out. The green lamp above the outside door lit up. He turned the wheel several times to the left, and the door opened inward.

Erik took a few deep breaths. It felt strange because his chest did not react. He then climbed out of the airlock legs first. He reached for a brief moment for the safety line, but he didn’t need that, either. The transporter was hanging in the air a few meters below them. In reality it was—as was their capsule—moving at a tremendous speed, but Erik couldn’t sense that. The Earth lay majestically at his feet. He pushed off and activated the engine, approaching the transporter one meter at a time. It was cylindrical and about the size of two freight containers. Erik felt tiny next to it.

But physics was on his side. He clung to the back of the transporter, just below the main engines, in as central a position as possible. The AV literally held onto the transporter with an iron grip. The robot could exert enormous power when needed. It must, after all, be able to move around on Venus at 90 bar. Erik shifted the power-level of the engine in his back to the highest level. Although it could not produce more power than one of the transporter’s correction engines, it was no less capable of doing what needed to be done. If the transporter braked just a little, it would change its orbit in such a fashion that the New Shepard 3 would no longer be in its path.

“Erik, that should be enough,” Charles indicated by radio.

“A little more. That will give us a greater safety margin,” he replied.

“No. Return now.”

Is there a hint of panic in Charles’s voice? “What’s wrong?” asked Erik.

“The Russians have finally confirmed that they will get the transporter out of the way.”

“Well, isn’t that good news?”

“Actually, yes. But they will have to turn on its main engines.”

“Dammit!” Erik cursed as he let go of the transporter, his mind instantly in high gear. He could return directly to the capsule, flying past the jets of the engines, or he could make a detour. However, he did not know in which direction the transporter would move. Was there an even bigger chance of encountering the engine’s exhaust flow if he chose a detour?

He activated his x-ray sensor. The influx for the chemical engines of the transporter had not yet been activated, meaning that he still had at least five seconds before ignition. That should be enough. Erik controlled his body and remained calm. If the hot gases touched even a foot, that would severely damage the AV. But that would not happen.

He knew the limits of the machine. In the sea, he had often tested its endurance beyond those limits. Erik shifted to the highest gear and flew past the engine jets. The space around him remained ice cold. He had already reached the airlock when the transporter finally began to make its way back to Earth of its own accord.

* * *

“Not bad,” Ethan said appreciatively. “I really would like to slip under the skin of your ironman one of these days.”

“Yes, well done,” Charles said.

Erik nodded. He was tired. In the meantime, his pants were wet between his legs. While he was in the AV, his sphincter had relaxed, a usual occurrence, because his human needs did not reach his consciousness as long as he was controlling the machine. But at least it also meant that he had not felt hungry during that interlude.

“Can we dock soon?” he asked.

“Yes, the docking mechanism is ready. We’re already on our way. We’ll arrive in fifteen minutes,” confirmed the commander.

Arrive? Not exactly. After a short time here, they would be traveling for 110 days. Then they would spend 30 days on Venus, and finally it would take 300 days for the return journey, because the Earth would be in a less favorable position than on the outbound flight. But right now, Erik really did not care. He longed for clean, dry clothes, followed immediately by hot food.

February 14, 2079, Earth Orbit

“Look after yourself, Erik,” his mother said. She crumpled a handkerchief in her hands. Her arms were propped up on her desk. He could tell she was trying to stop herself from shedding tears.

“I will,” he replied. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll be back soon.”

She looked like she did not quite believe him.

“I’m not alone, after all.” He turned the neck of the small camera so that she could see Nuria, Ethan, and Charles, who were also having their last conversations with their families.

It was a strange tradition. After all, they could talk to them tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, and next week, too. In a few weeks, the signal delay would be a bit too long for live conferences, but even then they could still exchange video messages.

“Yes, I’ve read a lot about your colleagues. Do you know what Charles achieved on a mission?”

“Thank you, Mother, I’m sure he’ll tell me in the coming weeks. We will be spending more than a year in close proximity.”

Erik had gone out of his way to not find out anything about his colleagues. He’d hoped that there would then be more things to talk about. It was the close fellowship in the four rooms of the ship that he feared the most.

“I could not do that,” his mother said. “I admire your female colleague, her lack of fear, so alone with three men.”

“What do you mean? Men aren’t predators! Besides, studies have shown that the presence of a woman has a very positive effect on the mood on board.”

“I can imagine that—you men tend to behave better. Please say hello to Nuria for me.”

“Have you heard from Father?” Erik asked, biting his lip. He had intended to avoid the topic.

“No, not for a few months. Not since he got in touch with me while he was in rehab. But by now he must have had his next relapse.”

“Presumably.”

They were silent, each mulling over their own thoughts.

“All right,” Erik said, “I should get back to my duties. You can always reach me via NASA. While we are on the way to Venus, a radio signal takes no more than three minutes to reach our spaceship.”

He had no idea which duties he should be performing, but Ethan and Charles had already ended their farewell conversations. Only Nuria was still looking at the screen. She was—he presumed—not communicating with only her mother. Although Erik knew that it was prejudicial to think like this, he nevertheless imagined a large family gathered around the camera.

“Thank you, Erik. I love you.”

“I know, Mother, I love you, too.”

The handkerchief disappeared into her fist. Then the picture vanished. He felt sorry for his mother. She must have often imagined herself taking care of her grandchildren, and now her only child was disappearing into space for a long time. She would make a good grandmother, too.

A tear rose into the corner of his eye. He turned to the others before the wetness could spread.

* * *

“Venus Air, start countdown to engine ignition.”

Barbara from the replacement team was the Capsule Communicator, almost always shortened to ‘CapCom.’ Charles knew her well and had asked for her. As they would usually communicate with Earth via the CapCom, the choice was not unimportant. Erik felt that at least her voice was very pleasant.

The automatic system was counting down, while various technicians called out values and status reports to each other. In his mind it all merged into a steady stream. They would soon be going on a long journey. Erik had been able to fool himself for a long time into thinking that this was nothing special, but now he felt it. It was downright outrageous! They were freeing themselves from the gravitational field of the fertile planet on which he had grown up, traversing the deadly emptiness in a fancy metal ‘nutshell,’ and then letting themselves be captured by a hot hell that was utterly hostile to life. Under such circumstances, it was not shameful to be scared. His hands clung to the armrests.

He then heard the launch command. The seat vibrated. He looked over at Ethan, who as the pilot was responsible for launching, but he had as little to do as Erik. The engine was controlled via computer by a program written by NASA personnel. Erik hoped that Ethan would never be required to do anything, because that would mean they were in big trouble. So he observed the pilot’s reactions to the on-screen messages. Ethan remained calm, and that eventually affected Erik as well. He surrendered to the force that pushed him into his seat.

* * *

“Who came up with the name Venus Air that Barbara used earlier?” Ethan asked after a while.

“No idea,” Charles replied. “But it somehow suits the spaceship we are towing.”

‘Towing’ isn’t the right word, Erik thought. After all, we are pushing the folded-up spaceship ahead of us.

“They could have asked us,” Ethan said.

“Nothing prevents us from coming up with a different name for the ship,” Charles said. Does anyone have any ideas?”

“How about Aphrodite?” Nuria suggested. “That is the Greek—”

“Too long and unpronounceable,” Ethan interrupted her.

“I agree with you, but you should have let Nuria finish her sentence,” the commander admonished him.

“Thank you, Charles,” Nuria said.

“Any other suggestions?”

Nobody answered.

“Then we’ll continue to use the name Venus Air,” Charles said.

“What do you think of the idea that I make us lunch?” Nuria asked.

“A brilliant idea,” answered Ethan.

“But I don’t want to create a false impression. It will be somebody else’s turn tomorrow.”

“Of course, boss,” Ethan said.

February 15, 2079, Venus Air

“Wow,” Nuria cried, floating through the capsule and trying out acrobatic maneuvers.

A few minutes ago they had shed the first stage of the engine. Now weightlessness prevailed for a few minutes before the second stage ignited. The others watched Nuria and laughed. At that moment it felt good for Erik, too, to be free from the burden of his own body’s weight. But it wouldn’t remain that way. Everyone he had asked had assured him that weightlessness was, in the long run, just annoying, not least because of the constantly needed acrobatics.

“You have another ten minutes,” Charles said.

“I can’t continue for that long,” Nuria replied. “I had no idea this was so exhausting.”

“It will only be so exhausting in two or three weeks,” Ethan said, “when the novelty of weightlessness has worn off.”

“Let her enjoy herself,” Charles said. “Don’t spoil her fun.”

“Have you ever been outside for a while?” Erik asked.

“Longer than I liked being,” Ethan declared. “I was on a mission to a near-Earth asteroid, but my replacement didn’t arrive on time. I had to stay outside for a whole solar orbit.”

“Oh, no! What was the worst part? Did you have enough food and oxygen?”

“Yes, they sent me some using an unmanned rocket. That was no problem. But there was no gravity. I had to spend almost half the day doing acrobatics. I sweated a lot! I would have become a muscle man on Earth, but in space it was just enough to ensure that my muscles didn’t shrink completely.”

“I see,” Erik said. “Why did you sign up again for such a long mission?”

“Hey, a new planet—when does one get to visit one in this day and age? I also think one reason why I became an astronaut was a desire to be mentioned in the history books. I could not have foreseen the unlikelihood of that in such a short time, but it’s become just another ordinary job. And what made you become an astronaut, Erik?”

“Diving. I’ve always liked to dive.”

“Diving?” Being out here is pretty much the opposite of that!” Ethan said.

“The AVs were first tested in volcanoes and in the deep sea—high pressure, heat—where else can you find that on Earth? That’s what I heard about at the university, so I signed on.”

“You never wanted to be an astronaut?”

“Not initially. I was never interested in stars and planets.”

“I don’t quite understand you, but at least you’re honest,” Ethan said.

“I hate to interrupt you, but it’s time to ignite the second stage,” Charles announced.

Erik strapped himself in again. Nuria floated back to her seat and did likewise.

“Ignition in one minute,” the automatic system announced.

Sixty seconds passed, then inertia pushed Erik back into his seat.

February 16, 2079, Venus Air

“Good night, Erik.”

Nuria closed the metal door in front of his nose. It felt like being sealed in a coffin, but then the light came on. Erik looked around. The cabin was not as small as he had imagined it would be. He could turn around and tilt the backrest so that he could comfortably read while lying down. About half a meter in front of his nose was a screen that showed computer data or movies—or the environment as viewed by the small outdoor camera. He surfed through the channels. The view of space was still blocked as the cabin had not yet been driven outside the spaceship.

“Are you all right?” Nuria asked via radio. “No panic attack?”

“I’m doing very well,” he replied.

“Everything’s fine here, too,” he heard Ethan say. He lay in the second capsule on the other side of the ship.

“Okay, then, I’ll drive you outside now,” Nuria said.

“Go ahead,” Erik said.

The two cabins, each attached to a pair of round bars, were simultaneously being pushed outward. They moved very slowly away from the ship. Erik switched to the camera. At first he was startled, because the Venus Air already looked so small. But he was at most only three meters away. It must be due to the wide-angle lens of the camera.

The cabins came to a stop with a jerk. The distance to the ship was now about eight meters. From the outside, the cabins hanging from the rods probably looked like two stubby wings.

“Starting rotation,” Nuria said.

The ring from which the cabins were suspended began to turn. Erik turned off the camera so that he would not become dizzy. The rotation accelerated at first, and then it stabilized. It did not take long for Erik to not feel it anymore. He knew he was spinning ten times a minute around the axis of the spaceship, but all he felt was a gravitational force working outward, pushing him onto his bed. It had about two-thirds the strength of Earth’s gravity, and was meant to prevent his bone density and muscles from declining.

The capsule was cocoon-shaped. He was protected on almost all sides by a shell, which insulated him with a layer of water against cosmic radiation. The water also served to balance the differing weight of the two occupants. He and Ethan weighed about the same, but later, when it was Nuria and Charles’s turn, the machine would no longer run smoothly without modification, and over time the bearings would be ruined. Therefore, water would be pumped into, or out of, the cabin shells until the two were well-balanced.

Erik was surprised at how normal his sojourn here felt after such a short time. The cabin was more spacious than a single coffin, but smaller than two. He would have expected a greater sense of claustrophobia under such circumstances. The interior designers had done a great job, and the cabin seemed to him almost like a small living room. Only the risk of colliding with an asteroid worried him. Even if the ship responded immediately, it would take about a minute for the cabin to be pulled in and for him to be able to exit. On the other hand, the ship could also be hit by an asteroid. He banished both thoughts, activated his screen, and uploaded one of the new series that Nuria had raved so much about.

* * *

After a while, Erik awoke to total darkness. The cabin’s sensor system must have noticed that had fallen asleep, stopping the movie and dimming the light.

“Soft light,” he said.

An orange lamp lighted up near his foot.

Then Erik realized why he had woken up. He needed to empty his bladder. There was no toilet aboard the cabin, but they had brought enough urine containers. He relieved himself into the plastic bag, sealed it till it was airtight, and restarted the video. He had only managed to watch ten minutes before falling asleep. He wondered how long it would take this time.

February 17, 2079, Venus Air

One hundred and seven days left. If he felt like their flight approaching Venus was taking a long time, how would he feel on the return flight? Erik played with a wart on his middle finger. It had not been there the day before yesterday. Presumably, his immune system was adjusting, and a few viruses had seized the opportunity to grow a wart. He had to be careful not to break it open.

How had the Enceladus expedition managed? The crew traveled for a whole year, despite their ship’s massive fusion engines. If NASA hadn’t needed to economize so much, Erik realized they could be reaching Venus in three weeks. But helium-3, the fuel for the DFDs, had since become much more expensive than it had been over 30 years ago, when the expedition into the Saturn system made headlines. Erik had not yet been born, but his mother had told him about it.

He linked the telescope to the screen. He first focused the telescope on the sun, then let the central star move out of the picture on the right. He could instruct the automated system to show the planet, but he wanted to do it himself. Venus was never far from the sun, and it was by far the brightest object in the sun’s vicinity.

There! He had found it. She sparkled like a bright diamond. How such a sight could deceive! Actually, it should have appeared red hot, Venus’s surface was hot. But they would never get to see the surface directly, only through the eyes of the two AVs.

Such a journey is a marvel, he thought. It would consist almost entirely of braking, because their destination planet’s orbit around the sun was shorter than that of Earth’s. First they had to accelerate to escape the gravitational pull of their home world, but once that had been accomplished, they could only reach Venus if their speed was low enough. It was like driving away from Houston at full speed on Interstate 10, and once you reached the city limits, taking your foot off the gas pedal and then letting the car just coast across New Orleans to Jacksonville on the Florida coast. This comparison is, I’m sure, not close to scale, Erik thought, but he had no desire just then to do the math.

He directed his gaze again toward their destination and increased the resolution of the telescope. However, Venus did not reveal anything about itself. It cloaked itself prudishly in a dense cloud cover, which one could not penetrate from here. But Venus would not succeed in keeping its surface hidden. In the body of his AV he would descend onto the planet and get to the bottom of its secrets.

February 18, 2079, Venus Air

Nuria and Ethan were sleeping in the cabins when Charles said, “Well, well.”

Erik unbuckled and floated over to him. “What is it?” he asked.

“A message from my acquaintance in the intelligence service.”

“Which one of the agencies?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Charles said.

“You’re right. And what does your acquaintance have to say?”

“One of our spy satellites has spotted preparations for a big launch in Russia.”

“But that’s an everyday occurrence, isn’t it?” asked Erik.

“This time, it seems to be a mission with a spaceship equipped with DFDs. The RB Group can only afford something like that once every few years.”

“You mean they want to beat us to Venus?” That would be underhanded, he thought. But a human-crewed landing on the hellish planet? Not even RB could manage that!

“I don’t have an opinion. My friend says it’s not clear where the journey is going. At any rate, it has nothing to do with the daily business of mining.”

“Why don’t we just ask?” Erik suggested.

“You think we could get an answer? The Russians are not considered to be very informative.”

“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 know 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?”

“There 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.”

“What do you mean?” asked Erik. Are they going to leave me out here so that the ship will not be damaged?

“It was an exercise,” Charles said, “and you passed—you solved the problem.”

Erik felt hot. He couldn’t believe it. “Are you saying there was no solar flare?”

“Correct, Erik. And the cabin couldn’t be reeled in because I activated the magnetic brake on the rods. Nuria and Ethan couldn’t see that.”

“That was a shitty exercise—you made me endure mortal fear here!”

“Would it have been realistic otherwise? You have to be trained in working as a team now and then.”

“Charles, I almost shit my pants,” Erik said.

“Man, take solace from the fact that I shit my pants,” Ethan admitted.

Tough-guy Ethan, admitting that he had been afraid? That impressed Erik. “Thanks, Ethan.”

“Thank you, Charles, for not assigning me the victim’s role. I would never have thought of the AV,” Ethan said.

“Yes, good job, Erik,” Charles said in praise. “Now come on inside. To celebrate the day, we’ll have a real whiskey from Earth.”

“By the way, Chuck Norris was only scared shitless once in his life,” Ethan said. “The first time he saw himself in the mirror.”

February 24, 2079, Venus Air

“This is not a drill,” echoed through the spaceship. “This is not a drill.”

Erik looked around in panic. He was sitting alone in the control center. Where are the others?

“Immediately enter rescue capsules,” the computer said. “This is not a drill.”

He unfastened his seatbelt and floated toward the ceiling. His back was wet. The rescue capsules. Of course! The others would be there already. Why didn’t they take him with them? The straps on the three seats were fastened. Why would his colleagues get up and fasten their seatbelts? Something is wrong here. He pushed off and dove through the open hatch into the workshop. It smelled like oil, and nobody was here, either. And there were no rescue capsules. Of course. Venus Air didn’t possess such a thing.

Erik slapped his cheeks. It’s got to be a dream. He woke up and shook his head vigorously.

“It’s okay. Calm down,” said Nuria, who was hovering above him. “You must have been having a crazy dream.”

“You’re right about that. Our ship had a breakdown. You had all gone somewhere.”

“Oh, that must be aftereffects of yesterday’s drill.”

“I suppose so.”

“You shouldn’t be sleeping in the control center, but going through the computer logs,” Nuria said with a wink.

“That’s soooo boring,” he said with a loud groan.

“We take turns. It’s routine, but routine—”

“—ensures the survival of the astronaut. I’m still familiar with the saying,” Erik said.

“Massey was right.”

“Yes, Nuria, I’ll continue.”

He immersed himself again in the computer’s records. It noted every small change in course, every correction of the spaceship’s position in space, every short-term power reduction of the engine. Although a machine, Venus Air was so complex that it reminded one of a living being—and a living thing did not exhibit the same around-the-clock level of performance. As long as certain thresholds were not exceeded, the machine compensated for everything. But now and then it was advisable for a human being to check these interventions. Erik was looking for patterns that may have escaped the computer’s notice, ones that pointed to major defects—or to a small disruption that might be on the cusp of becoming a real problem.

He had to focus on endless tables, which usually just described how smoothly everything worked, and which amounted to pretty much the most boring activity on board. Erik would rather have cleaned the toilets, but Nuria did not want to trade with him. Now and then he could not stifle a yawn, even though his little nap had done him good.

April 13, 2079, Svobodny

The door moved to the side with a hiss. Anastasia picked up her travel bag and got off the train to an empty platform. Had the FSB evacuated the station because they were expecting her? No, nobody knew that she was here. The train had been almost full, but who wanted to go to Svobodny anyway? After all, one could be at the Chinese border in three hours, where huge markets awaited visitors from all over the Amur region.

She pulled the mask over her face. It was far too cold for this time of year, and a stiff breeze made her eyes water. The unusually long winter was a blessing for her, because it was keeping the ground frozen for quite a while longer. She wandered toward the exit and passed a stinky toilet. Nevertheless, she remained standing there, because here she was protected from prying eyes by a poster column. Old, half-shredded pieces of paper advertising the summer circus, concerts in the Municipal House of Culture, and a travel agency called Tala-Tur hung from the column.

She pointed her communicator toward the train’s baggage car, which was hooked up behind the passenger cars. The device vibrated in her hand. Anastasia smiled, satisfied. The electronic seals on her luggage were intact, so she could safely collect the boxes. She went briskly to the luggage car. She had seven minutes left before the train departed, assuming it was on schedule.

Anastasia knocked, and a fat man wearing a train uniform opened the door. He looked disappointed. Had he hoped she would forget her luggage? The man checked her reservation on his communicator with an annoyed look and also asked her to produce her ID. He then pushed her boxes to the edge of the car, but made no move to help her unload.

“That’s awfully heavy,” he said, theatrically grabbing his chest where his heart was.

Groaning, Anastasia lowered the heavy boxes onto the platform. If only she had worn the exoskeleton!

“What’s in the long box?” the railway employee asked.

“A work of art,” replied Anastasia. “The matching metal frames are in the other three boxes.”

“And what is it called?”

Instead of interrogating me and blowing your tobacco breath down my neck, you could come down and help me! “Caught in Space-time,” she said.

Three minutes left. The conductor would not wait, because she had not tipped him. “I can’t picture that,” said the fat man.

“It’s a uniformed man on a steel cross, into whose body someone hammered large nails,” she said softly.

“That...” The word stuck in the man’s throat.

At least now he would let her work in peace.

The train started moving as she was lifting the last box onto the platform. She began to stumble but just managed to regain her balance.

* * *

The fact that the boxes were so heavy had a practical advantage—nobody could steal them on the fly. Important, because Anastasia had to briefly leave the platform. She walked in front of the building to look for the reserved taxi.

The company had kept its promise. There was only one car in front of the station, a WAS-2929—a brand-new electric SUV. Someone waved to her. She waved back and turned around. Five lanky teenagers were sitting on the windowsills of the station building and smoking roll-your-own cigarettes.

“Hey, lads, there are seven boxes on the platform, I need them to be placed in the car there. Ten dollars for each box.”

The boys immediately jumped up and sprinted toward the boxes. For good old American dollars you still got almost anything you wanted here in far eastern Russia.

Anastasia approached the car, which looked sturdy—Russian technology, mated with Chinese electric motors and Indian batteries, no doubt. However, it was painted white. In the long winter here, that was probably the best camouflage.

“I hope the vehicle is well maintained!” Anastasia said to the car rental agency employee.

A tag reading ‘Maxim, Tala-Tur’ hung from his lapel. “Yes, the car was in the garage only last month,” he said.

He handed her a mini-tablet and she signed as Maria Shumanovna. “Well, then, I hope the vehicle doesn’t have to go to the garage every month,” she said.

The employee laughed. The five teenagers arrived, panting, with the first boxes. Maxim looked skeptical, because some boxes landed on the cushions of the back seat. She would have to pay extra for any damage. “Um...” he said, “if you don’t get into an accident, it won’t be due for the garage until eleven months from now.”

This was ideal. It meant that the changes she would make to the car would remain undetected for a long time.

“Maxim, your tag is hanging crooked,” she said.

“I’m Nikolai. Maxim is my brother.” He checked her reservation. “Would you go out with me, Maria from Sevastopol?” he said, laughing at her provocatively.

No, my lad, then I would have to kill you afterward.

“Thanks. Next time,” she said, laughing too.

“You’re missing out on something! In Svobodny, I’m the biggest attraction!”

He did have guts, and he was quite attractive for this provincial nest. She was tempted to take him with her. When was the last time I had some fun in bed? But then she might really have to dispose of him after that. She did not need any additional trouble.

She paid the boys, seated herself in the driver’s seat, and drove off.

* * *

On the outskirts of Svobodny she stopped at a spot that was difficult to access. She must replace the tracking device, which continuously recorded the position of the rental car. It was almost 60 kilometers to Tsiolkovsky—and Vostochny spaceport. In a few weeks Peter would try to flee from her in a spaceship launching from that location. She would thwart him.

It was time for her to wear her work clothes. She put on the protective suit and wore regular clothes over it.

* * *

Fast, but never faster than the legal speed, she drove toward Tsiolkovsky. Just a few days ago, she learned that Tsiolkovsky would be declared out of bounds even earlier than with all other launches. The Trans-Siberian Railway took at least three days from Novosibirsk to Svobodny. But she had arrived just in time—prior to the institution of the security measures. Otherwise she would never have made it this far. Once those measures were in place, all access roads would be checked regularly.

With the help of maps and satellite imagery, she had chosen a good place to execute her mission. She would hide the equipment no more than a kilometer away from the location. She would eventually have to park the car somewhere, but the exoskeleton sewn into the protective suit would help her bring the boxes with their deadly contents to their destination.

Caught in Space-Time. The railway man’s face had taken on such a stupid expression when she’d said it, but the title of her alleged work of art described quite well what she was planning. She just had to wait, a challenge as patience was the quality in which she was most deficient.

May 17, 2079, Tsiolkovsky

Anastasia was sitting in her hotel room in Svobodny. It smelled musty, and in some places the wallpaper was peeling from the wall. But nobody here was interested in her, and that was especially important now.

For two days the sky above Tsiolkovsky’s spaceport had been cloudy, so she had not been able to get any usable satellite photos. But it finally cleared and new ones came in. Anastasia compared them with the older pictures.

In the meantime, the last of her computer loopholes had been sealed.

“Damn!” she yelled, kicking the table, which hit the wall hard. Tea poured across the tabletop and splashed as far as the wallpaper.

“Quiet!” shouted a male voice from the neighboring room.

“Kiss my ass!” she hollered. The outburst did her good. She ran her fingers through her hair. Then she poured the tea from the saucer back into the cup. With the palm of her hand, she swiped the rest of the tea from the tabletop onto the carpet. Yes, kiss my ass, everyone!

If only she had struck Lazarev with greater precision! He was the only one capable of sealing such a large area with the limited resources that were available to the FSB, even though technically he had no authority here.

But she would not give up. She pulled the table back toward herself and studied the photos again. She drew lines, let the software show distances, and made some calculations. The only thing suitable for her purposes was a solitary hill, but the forest around it had been cleared. Was that deliberate—a trap? Lazarev was waiting for her, guaranteed, and he would let her in to spring his trap.

Anastasia zoomed the picture. Shrubs and small birches grew in the open area, telling her the forest had been cleared quite a while ago. So, the clearing project had nothing to do with her.

She studied the positions of the guns. She counted seven around the rocket’s launch site. Which areas did they cover? She let her program make a forecast. Ha! Anastasia hit the table with a fist and smiled. At the end of the open space was a blind spot that extended to the protective forest, a swath that the neighboring positions could not cover, and it was at least five meters wide.

Anastasia stored the information regarding how to get there on her helmet computer. It would lead her to where she needed to go. She quickly checked the roadblocks and found that they had not been relocated—at least one constant on which she could rely.

And what if Lazarev was deliberately leaving the swath open to lure her there? She dismissed the thought. Everyone made mistakes, even the intelligence officer.

* * *

Anastasia left the hotel wearing a big backpack. She got on the electric, off-road motorbike that she had borrowed just the day before. Maxim, no, his name was Nikolai, had tried to ask her out again—and she had refused, again. Would he ever find out how lucky he’d been? She had already prepared the vehicle yesterday to drive noiselessly and not to record any position data, and the equipment was already in its hiding place.

Anastasia avoided the major roads and drove over forest paths to bypass the security points. She was jostled quite a bit, but it was fun. She rode her motorbike like a cowboy on a bucking bronco and hid it in a dense bush shortly before the finish. Then she took off the clothes she wore over the camouflage suit, put on the facemask, and entered stealth mode.

She felt exhilaration spreading throughout her. “Peter, I’m coming!” she growled.

In the meantime, the sun was rising. She’d been waiting for that. It was still much darker than expected, and the air smelled of moss. Anastasia was happy to hear an owl’s greeting in the distance. She switched on the residual light amplifier. The forest path curved to the right, and she spotted a barricade about 200 meters away.

Just as I thought, Anastasia mused. But only two uniformed men were keeping watch. She walked back a hundred meters. Left, or right? Left. Her suit protected her from emitting sound, heat, or light. But it wasn’t 100 percent foolproof, so it was better to take a long detour. She still had plenty of time. Anastasia oriented herself with the help of the helmet display. It showed her the way and warned her of branches that she must not tread upon, so as not to disturb the silence of the forest. She disappeared into the darkness.

* * *

She reached her hiding place less than an hour later. She ate and drank, realizing that food hadn’t tasted this good in a long time. She wiped her mouth and hands and stashed the remaining food in an odor-proof fashion so that a hungry bear wouldn’t find it. She had brought provisions for three days. It was essential to plan her retreat, even more important than planning the details of the attack, because if it succeeded—and at this point she no longer doubted it—Vostochny would resemble a frantic henhouse. Afterward, it would be better to lay low for a few days.

Now, on to the grand finale! She took the big box from its hiding place. The exoskeleton helped make the box seem quite light, even though it contained a guided rocket with a launcher. In order to leave no tracks, she only moved across frozen ground. The helmet display indicated the route. If she strayed from it, a beep would warn her. Piece of cake.

She pulled down the corners of her mouth contemptuously. Even Peter could have done this.

* * *

Four hours later, everything was in place. Anastasia set up the launch ramp in a depression just below the top of the hill and pulled the camouflage cover over it. She would only push the ramp to its final position shortly before the launch.

She felt good, although she was tired and sweating heavily despite the exoskeleton. At least she would not freeze, given the suit’s ability to reduce the amount of heat she radiated. She lay down under the camouflage cover and fell asleep with a relaxed smile.

May 18, 2079, Vostochny Cosmodrome

They had been in Vostochny for two days preparing for their space flight. Now all the preparations were complete, they were wearing uncomfortable spacesuits, and were waiting to be picked up.

“I’m scared!” Maria said, looking directly at Peter.

“Me, too,” he confessed. “But everything will be fine, and one day we’ll tell our grandchildren about our adventures.”

Maria smiled weakly. “I don’t fear the journey itself, or the tasks we will need to perform, but I am afraid Anastasia might be planning something.”

“Valentina has assured me that she has greatly reinforced security measures. I trust her.”

Maria seemed to relax a bit. “Where is Katarina?”

“She’s flying with us as luggage.”

“Doesn’t that make you uncomfortable, after you practically remodeled her?”

“A little,” Peter said. “But she agreed. Hopefully, not just because I redesigned her modules for sensitivity and tact.”

“What was the problem with the module?”

“Dushek almost perfectly optimized Katarina’s consciousness core. I only made major changes concerning secrecy and privacy, and minor changes with regard to sensitivity and tact.”

Valentina entered the room. “It’s time to go!” She held the door open for them and motioned for them to leave the room.

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 decreased 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 Shostakovich. “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.”

“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.

“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 Moskva 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.

Still, it felt like they were outside. Erik could not resist looking at Venus every now and then. It looked far more interesting with the AV’s capabilities than with his own limited senses. He almost had the feeling of being able to penetrate to the surface. Nuria had told him that this was an illusion—however, she also mentioned that the lower cloud layers were, in fact, influenced by the conditions on the surface. The illusion thus had a kernel of truth. Once they began operating from the spaceship, he would be able to marvel at lava-spewing volcanoes in the radar-generated image.

“Not that one,” Nuria said over the radio just as he was about to open another clasp.

“Oh, dammit,” Erik replied, having realized his mistake. The spaceship must not discard the heat shield until after the ship had been slowed down by the atmosphere.

“Maybe you need to pay attention while you work?” Nuria exclaimed.

Yeah, she’s right. He uploaded the schedule. An arrow symbol appeared in his field of vision, leading him to the next step. He needed to remove a screw. He took the corresponding tool out of the bag he had hung over the AV’s shoulder and completed the job.

* * *

“I think that’s it,” Nuria exclaimed.

Erik checked the list of instructions. All entries were ticked off in green. There were no more arrows floating around in his field of vision. “Yes, and almost on schedule,” he noted.

“Your sloppiness cost us ten minutes.”

“That’s no longer relevant,” he countered. “We are prepared for entering orbit.”

“I don’t like it when you march to your ‘different drummer.’ That could be dangerous on the surface.”

“Yes, Mom,” he said.

The AV that Nuria controlled smacked his AV on the upper arm. There were no touch sensors there, so it felt strange. The picture didn’t match what he felt.

“Come on, let’s admire Venus a bit. It deserves to be appreciated,” he suggested.

Nuria’s AV nodded. “You mean, you deserve to spend time looking at Venus.”

“That, too.”

Erik pushed away from the spaceship, which was as yet far from recognizable as a spaceship, and slowly drifted to the command module just behind it. Venus Air was flying at an immense speed through space—but from his perspective it seemed to be standing still. He held on to a strut and leaned against the ship’s hull so that he had a good view of the planet.

“Come here and enjoy the view,” he said, “who knows when we’ll have such an opportunity again.”

“True,” Nuria said. “Once we enter the atmosphere, visibility will be poor.”

“Yes,” he said, “but now, here we are. It’s amazing! A human being has never before had such a view of Venus.”

“Who knows?” mused Nuria. “That sun mission, back however many years ago, maybe they traveled past Venus?”

Eric sighed. It was useless. Nuria would never understand how romantic it was to view mysterious Venus in all wavelengths of the spectrum while hanging from the outer shell of a spaceship.

June 1, 2079, Strelka, Venus Transfer

“Maria and I have agreed to go sightseeing in Paris today,” he said.

“Well then, have fun!” Marchenko said.

How could a city tour be exhausting? Perhaps Montmartre? He had not considered Montmartre, dammit. If only they had chosen London—there were no large hills there.

Maria and Peter stepped into the exercise machines, where they were positioned and lifted onto the treadmill. The holographic simulation began. They were on the Champs-Élysées, headed toward the Louvre. So far, Marchenko was being merciful.

But Peter was wrong. “Since when does the Champs go uphill?” he asked.

“Your contact pressure is the equivalent of one hundred and five percent of Earth’s gravity. We will slowly increase it to one hundred and thirty percent.”

That was not the answer he had wanted to hear. Exercise was pointless exertion. It was not without reason that he had always strictly avoided gyms.

* * *

After 20 minutes they reached the glass pyramid of the Louvre. They had the advantage of being able to enter immediately, and without paying an entrance fee. They faced a curved staircase.

“Come on, we’ll take the elevator,” Maria said, and set off. Peter already foresaw what was going to happen and just waited for her. The elevator was out of service, of course. Maria returned.

“The escalators have probably been deactivated as well?” she asked.

“That’s correct,” Marchenko replied.

Maria grasped Peter’s hand. Although everything was virtual, the touch felt electric. She smiled, and hand in hand they began the tour. In the third hall, Maria sat down on a bench. Peter hesitated. He wouldn’t put it past Marchenko to simply make the bench disappear.

“Sit down next to me,” Maria said.

“Five-minute break,” Marchenko announced.

Peter looked at his watch as time passed. He stood up after 4 minutes and 57 seconds. After exactly 5 minutes the bench vanished into thin air. Maria, however, remained seated instead of falling down as he had been expecting. Apparently there was a safety mechanism that prevented her from getting hurt. It looked hilarious to him—she seemed to be sitting on air.

* * *

Time passed quickly, and yet they had only seen a fraction of the Louvre. Maria sat down on another bench, stretching out her legs and pulling her feet up to stretch her calf muscles. “That’s enough for me today. We can come back anytime, after all.”

“Absolutely. I agree with you,” Peter said. “I’ve had enough for a while already.”

They left the Louvre and walked toward the Eiffel Tower. As they stood below it, Maria looked deeply into Peter’s eyes. He was still pondering what that might mean when the hologram simulation suddenly disappeared.

In a fraction of a second they were completely locked in and encapsulated. Instead of seeing Paris, they could see the exterior of their spaceship. And an ugly alarm signal was sounding.

“What’s going on?” they asked at the same time.

“An asteroid,” Marchenko declared.

The shell stretched and writhed. The ship had spotted the space boulder too late to evade it. Now the flexible shell was trying to protect them from the brunt of the impact.

Peter felt the vibrations caused by the rapid, alternate tensing and relaxing of specific areas of the ship’s protective cover. The control engines were working at maximum to keep the spacecraft stable despite the widely differing sets of forces that were manipulating its shell.

But the shell had limited capabilities. Another asteroid, slightly larger than the first, threatened to hit the spaceship dead center. The hull stretched at breathtaking speed into a long triangle pointing toward the asteroid, while the steering engines pushed the ship out of the danger zone.

The shell was trying to minimize the impact angle. The flatter the impact, the less energy was transferred to the ship. Maybe the asteroid would bounce off like one of those flat stones that he had skipped across the surface of a lake as a child. Peter estimated that the angle between the hull and the trajectory of the projectile was less than five degrees.

Shortly before the boulder could hit their protective skin, a flattened tip formed in the ship’s skin beneath the approaching space rock and sped upward at high speed. It hit the rock, but the ship’s flat plate was torn from its anchorage. However, it had achieved its goal. The asteroid was deflected, causing it to miss the spaceship by a few centimeters—less than a hair’s breadth in the vastness of space, but all or nothing for the spacecraft and its crew.

Peter’s mouth was dry. Maria was visibly shocked. The clasps came off, releasing them. Peter stumbled out of his capsule. At the last moment he found a seat and let himself fall into it. Maria was trembling. She hadn’t managed to leave her capsule. Peter wanted to go to her and embrace her, but his legs failed.

* * *

The minutes ticked by. Marchenko left them alone, for which Peter was grateful. The AI was no doubt performing necessary tasks.

Finally, Marchenko reported to them. “I analyzed the situation,” he said. “It was very close, but it went well. However, the hull is damaged and needs to be repaired. Currently, it only provides eighty percent of the protection it is supposed to offer.”

“Eighty percent—but that’s sufficient,” Peter said. “The likelihood of being hit head-on again by an asteroid of this size is infinitesimal.”

“I have to correct your second statement. The risk is neither greater nor less than previously. The risk was minuscule the whole time, but the asteroid hit us anyway. We should be prepared for the next potential impact. After all, it’s you who will die.”

Peter sighed. “We need a break,” he said, “I’m sorry.”

“There is another problem that I must disclose to you,” Marchenko said. “The outboard robots are only designed to repair minor damage. They are not able to repair the damage to the mounting brackets. Somebody has to go outside, straighten the bent rods, and screw on a few parts. Fortunately, the DFDs were not damaged, and thus we have enough energy. It will take a little while for the outboard robots to inspect the damage from inside and from outside.”

After a moment’s silence, Peter thought Marchenko had turned to other tasks.

“Which one of you is confident enough to do the repairs?” asked the AI.

June 2, 2079, Venus Air

“Okay, guys, it’s time to move into the next phase of our journey,” Charles said.

Erik checked to see if his seatbelt was fastened. The spaceship was now flying with the stern pointing forward.

“Propulsion set,” Ethan said.

“Life support systems functioning,” Nuria confirmed.

“Heat shield at minus eighty degrees,” Erik chimed in.

It was a ceremony that was unnecessary from a technical standpoint, because the automated system only ignited the engines when everything was prepared for take-off. But it was probably meant to give the astronauts the impression of having everything under control, even though the automatic system controlled everything. Erik didn’t mind that anymore. By now he knew he could trust the software.

“Ignite engines,” Charles said.

It took a few seconds for something to happen. The computer chose the optimal time point. Then Erik felt it, the characteristic rumbling of the engines behind him. Their power was slowly increasing. They made the ship brake in such a fashion that it dove into the atmosphere of the planet. But that wasn’t enough. The ship had to slow down yet more, until it could swing into orbit around the planet. Venus, with its dense cover, would help them to achieve that goal.

Erik clutched his chair. There was no reason to be nervous. He needed to relax. He only partially succeeded. His fingers relaxed, but the muscles in his arms and legs remained tense.

“Everything is going according to plan,” Charles said.

He could have concluded this from viewing the screen himself, but if the commander said so, it was more reassuring. Erik still felt uneasy. The computer might be able to control the engines perfectly—but it could not control the planet. And they needed the planet’s atmosphere for braking. What if it was thinner than they had calculated or a storm suddenly cropped up? This was unlikely, because they had scrutinized everything as they approached the planet. Nevertheless, he could not shake off his fears.

The braking effect was becoming increasingly noticeable. The engines were firing at a constant rate, so it must be the atmosphere. He checked the heat shield.

“20 degrees,” he said.

“That’s okay,” Ethan said. “I can see the numbers myself.”

Erik bit his lip. It was his job to monitor the status of the heat shield. Ethan should stick to checking the engine.

“45 degrees,” he called out.

That was nothing compared to what lay ahead. The actual baptism of fire was yet to come.

“70 degrees.”

Things were heating up.

“Structural stability at 200 percent,” Charles said.

The number was a fantasy value, but it sounded good. The computer calculated it from the extent of the load the individual components of the Venus Air could endure, compared to the actual forces acting upon them. Even if it were only 50 percent, the ship would not necessarily break apart. The material could withstand more than the technical estimate. However, the passengers could never be certain that some limit had not been crossed, and therefore a catastrophe was not imminent.

“155 degrees,” Erik said.

They were still in the top layers. Their charted course would take them much deeper.

“260 degrees.”

Now that was truly hot. Billions of molecules pattered onto the ship, slowing its momentum. They hit the heat shield, which continued to heat up as expected.

“480 degrees.”

The deeper they dove, the more rapidly the atmospheric density increased. If they miscalculated, there would be no escape. The ship could not simply be navigated upward. It had to follow this route until it re-emerged of its own accord from the atmosphere—and on a lower orbit.

“720 degrees.”

The heat shield could withstand about 2,500 degrees Celsius. That was 500 more than the computer calculated for the densest layers of the atmosphere. It was a sufficient buffer. Even if they exceeded the value, the heat shield would not fail immediately but would gradually burn up.

“1,280 degrees.”

Erik felt vibrations in his back. The Venus Air was probably being shaken by the atmosphere’s air currents. The ship was, at that moment, hurtling like a meteorite toward the planet. It could not be controlled at this point. They were at the mercy of the laws of physics—conservation of momentum and friction would determine their fate. Strangely enough, that had a calming effect on Erik. No one stood above physics. Its laws could not be tinkered with.

“1,600 degrees.”

They had nearly made it. The shaking grew in intensity.

“Structural stability at 120 percent,” said the commander.

That was still a good value.

“We have reached the lowest level of Venus’s orbit,” reported their pilot, Ethan.

He, too, sounded quite relaxed, but he wasn’t making any jokes.

“2,050 degrees,” Erik read.

That was a bit more than they had calculated, but not dramatically more. They were rising again. But the heat shield would continue to warm up, because the atmosphere still had a strong slowing effect.

“2,200 degrees.”

Venus was really keeping them on edge. There was a small jolt.

“Something has been blown off,” Charles said in a placid tone. “But it was not anything important.”

Above all, it did not hit the ship. A lost antenna was not a problem, but if the part had hit the outer shell with great force... Erik banished the thought.

“2,320 degrees,” he said.

Nobody answered. The temperature was no longer rising as rapidly as when they had been plunging downward toward the planet. They should be able to make it.

“2,300 degrees.”

The temperature was dropping. They had made it!

“Whew,” Ethan said.

Nuria laughed with relief, and so did Erik.

‘2,100 degrees,’ he saw displayed on the screen. He no longer needed to read this number aloud. They had pulled through.

“We have reached orbit,” Charles said.

The engines stopped firing. They were weightless again. The commander unfastened his seatbelt, stood up, and hovered over them.

“We did it!” Charles said solemnly. “We’ve reached orbit around Venus. I would like to congratulate our team!”

Ethan, Nuria, and Erik clapped.

June 2, 2079, Strelka, Venus Transfer

“I’ll do it!” said Katarina. The robot was obviously not turned off.

“Why are you only now communicating with us?” Peter asked.

“She had no tasks to perform here,” Marchenko said, “and I only allowed her to stay in the command module if she kept a low profile. But it’s a good idea to let Katarina perform the repair tasks. She’s stronger than a human, and we could overcome her loss. You have her blueprints and a backup of the software so you can recreate her at will.”

Where had Marchenko gotten this information from? But he was right, and they had a more urgent matter at hand than investigating the flow of information inside RB. So he only nodded weakly. “Thank you, Katarina,” he said.

The robot was releasing its clasps. “Glad to help,” she answered with a smile.

“You should take care of Maria in the meantime,” Marchenko said. “She most probably has an acute stress reaction, a mental shock, and needs your help.”

Peter tried to get up, but his leg muscles did not react. This can’t be happening! He, too, had evidently experienced enough of a shock to affect his body functions. Peter was startled when Katarina took his hands in hers. Then he realized that she wanted to help him. He let her pull him up. It felt good to stand up and support himself on his own feet. They were only highly qualified space tourists, after all.

Carefully, he approached Maria. She did not respond to him. He stroked her head, and she responded to his touch. He then took her in his arms. Maria clung to him, and her whole body shook. Something dripped onto his neck, and he knew she was silently crying. He thought the hug felt incredibly good, and could sense his own overwhelming tension melting away. He continued to hold her for a few more minutes, then slowly released her.

“Thanks. I’ll be okay now,” she said, still breathing loudly and a bit raggedly.

“Well done, Peter!” Marchenko said in praise. “You two will be back to feeling fine in a few hours.”

Peter nodded.

* * *

In the meantime, Katarina got a suit for the spacewalk and put it on. Although the robot did not require oxygen, her exterior was not designed to function in a vacuum, or at a temperature of only three degrees above absolute zero. It took two minutes for the suit to adapt to her physical shape. She turned off the suit’s oxygen supply and stepped into the airlock. There she found everything she needed for the repair job, including two replacement plates, plus a lever, several mounting clamps, and the necessary tools. She waited for information from the outboard robots.

“I’m connected to you,” Marchenko told her. “Since you have no programming for space missions, I will support you. I have already hooked you up to the shell control system. Thus, you will immediately be able to run a test to see if the repair job was successful, and the system will help you to find the damage.”

“Thank you! But I am surprised that you have so much confidence in another AI,” replied the robot. Katarina fastened the bag to the side of her suit, gathered all the materials together, and placed them in the bag. While doing so, she noticed that the work instructions were being downloaded into her memory. She was accustomed to receiving commands directly via her brain.

“You would never do anything that would put Peter at risk,” Marchenko said.

“Correct.”

Meanwhile, the air had been pumped out of the airlock, and Katarina waited for the hatch to open. But nothing happened.

“You have a safety line. You have to attach that to your suit, or the hatch will not open.”

“Do I need a second line to move around on the hull?”

“No, the safety line on the reel is long enough for you to get to your position.”

The hatch opened slowly. Behind it lurked the inky blackness of outer space. Katarina used her arms to swing herself out of the hatch. She carefully set foot upon the hull. Her magnetic shoes gave her a strong-enough grip on the metal elements. Nevertheless, she was not used to walking on surfaces that appeared to slant and were even elastic.

Marchenko noticed her uncertainty. “You can control the shell. Make the hull form a convenient path to the damaged area. But note that, at the moment, you can only form a path up to a point a few meters away from your destination, the damaged area.”

Katarina tried out the protective hull’s controls. It was true, she could move the plates one at a time. She felt the vibrations caused by the movements of the plates. If there had been an atmosphere, she would probably have heard clacking noises, too. But here, everything took place in complete silence.

She was not afraid. On the contrary, she chose to believe she was one with the machine. She left her robot body and merged with the protective cover to become something much bigger. This feeling was addictive, she noticed. How did Marchenko manage to resist this temptation? He could dominate the whole world—no, be the world—if he had wanted to from the beginning.

After a few trials, Katarina got the hang of it. She positioned the plates in such a fashion that they formed a straight path to a point near the hole. Right next to the damaged area, the plates formed a kind of staircase. It wasn’t perfect, but it met her needs.

She approached the gaping hole. About two meters away, the artificial path ended in a sloping plate. The individual elements overlapped so that they could always provide optimal protection, no matter in which direction the adjacent plates pointed. Katarina walked along the hull and knelt beside the hole. She would need more support if she was going to straighten things here. Therefore, she first removed the adjacent plate, which was also damaged.

“Please bring this plate with you. Maybe we can still repair it,” Marchenko said.

She slid the plate down into the bag. She then carefully climbed into the hole and planted her feet on the intact area of the structure. She took a thick-walled tube out of the bag, pushed it onto one of the broken beams, and began to fix the faulty connection. She imagined how Peter would have had to slog away here. For her it was a piece of cake. She pulled the long tube over the broken ends—which were now opposite each other—and pushed a button on the tube. It contracted as much as possible, closing the hole.

“Looks good,” said Marchenko, who was observing through her eyes.

“Well, it seems to be rather makeshift. A shipyard could fix it more thoroughly,” Katarina said.

“It’s not ideal, but the entire cell is working again,” Marchenko said. “If I have learned one thing as a human, it’s that there isn’t always a hundred percent solution. Eighty percent is usually good enough.”

Marchenko fascinated her. How much of him was still human? she wondered. Katarina climbed out of the hole onto the shell and exchanged the clamping mechanisms on the edge of the destroyed plate for new ones. After that, she inserted a brand-new plate and tested the function of the cell.

The plate suddenly rose up and hit Katarina’s legs. She lost her grip and was thrown into space. The second replacement plate, which lay on top in the bag, disappeared forever into the void, to end up as a piece of space junk.

“No!” Marchenko cried.

Katarina smiled. That must be his human part. But there was nothing to worry about—she was tethered, after all. What could happen, except for this little trip into space? She laid her arms next to her torso and her body spun faster. Katarina enjoyed the unplanned spacewalk. Then the reel connected to the suit stopped her flight. The engine started and reeled in the line.

“Sorry. There was a mistake in the instructions,” Marchenko explained. “You should have only performed the test once all the plates had been inserted.”

“Well, nothing problematic transpired,” she said.

Two minutes later, the robot was back at the hatch.

“I’ve brought you a new plate. It’s in the freight airlock near the exit,” Marchenko said.

“Are the plates in short supply?” Katarina asked.

“Not really. We have fifty spare plates in stock. Therefore, the loss of one protective panel isn’t a problem. It’s more important that nothing happens to you or to the hull structure. I’m sorry. I should have checked the instructions one more time beforehand.”

A short time later, Katarina was continuing the repair work. The last plate was particularly tricky to insert. She was about to ask for help when she finally succeeded, then moved away from the site where the hole had been. She exited repair mode, and the entire cell with its plates moved and adjusted in automatic testing, which took about a minute.

“Excellent job!” Peter said from the command module.

Katarina gave him a thumbs up and made her way back.

June 3, 2079, Venus Orbit

“Are you coming? What are you looking for now?”

Nuria was getting on his nerves. They were totally on schedule. Now Erik had forgotten what he’d just been looking for! Charles sat strapped in his chair, observing him and smiling. The commander would stay aboard the transfer ship. He was responsible for the connection to Earth—and for picking them up after four weeks.

The spices. Of course! I need to pack the spices. Erik did not want to spend four weeks eating bland food out of bags. He floated to the kitchen cupboard.

“Erik, come on. We’re already here!” he heard Nuria say over the helmet radio.

Yes, he thought, but this is important, too! She would be grateful to him when he added spices to her meal. The three of them would be spending nearly 30 days together in close quarters. He and Ethan were getting along better lately. The pilot would control their descent and then steer the spaceship. He was more worried about Nuria, because she always took everything so seriously.

The spice jar was filled with a universal mixture that nearly always suited the food. It possessed an integrated dispensing mechanism that also worked in conditions of weightlessness. Erik happily anticipated finally being able to feel his weight again aboard the spaceship. He placed the jar in the tool bag and pulled himself along the walls to the hatch that led to the rearmost part of the spaceship.

“Finally,” Nuria said.

Erik looked around. The capsule that they would inhabit in the coming weeks was at most 20 cubic meters and consisted of a single room. The lighting was uncomfortably bright.

Why didn’t they use the same lights as in the rest of the spaceship? “Can one dim that?” Erik asked, pointing to one of the lamps on the side, which would later form the ceiling.

“The lights are intended to be dimmed manually,” Nuria said. “At night, the lights go off completely. That’s how they want to simulate a regular, 24-hour day-night rhythm, and keep us wide awake during the day.”

That makes sense, Erik thought. The wind would propel them around Venus once every four days. That was not in sync with the biorhythm of humans.

“Are you ready?” Ethan asked.

The pilot was strapped in his chair, gazing attentively at the screens in front of him. Erik operated the hatch. They had not said goodbye to Charles. That would only bring bad luck, he had said. After all, they would be seeing each other again soon. Erik pulled the outer hatch shut, then the inner one. Then he moved hand-over-hand to his own place to the right of Ethan.

“I’m ready,” Nuria said.

Erik fastened his seatbelt and closed his helmet, just in case. “Let’s go,” he said.

Ethan raised his head slightly and then pressed a few buttons on his armrest. “Clamps loosened,” he said.

They were no longer attached to the spaceship. But the capsule was still hovering quietly beside the ship. Ethan pushed another button. Erik sensed a slight amount of momentum in his back.

“Spring mechanism triggered.”

A bolt with tensed springs had pushed their capsule with its inflatable blimp away from the part of the ship that would remain in orbit. They needed to be at a safe distance to ignite the engine. Slowly, the capsule floated through space, distancing itself one meter at a time from the ship.

“Okay, we’re twenty meters away. That should be enough,” Erik said. “Ignite the engine.” He felt hot. The two-stage engine in the bow had by now been exposed to outer space for three months. If it did not start, they would never reach the atmosphere. He counted the seconds. Why was it taking so long? He clutched the armrests of his chair.

“Don’t worry,” Ethan said. “The combustion chamber must first reach the standard temperature.”

Suddenly, it was there, the anticipated pressure on his chest. The engine was braking as it was supposed to.

“Ignition initiated,” Ethan said.

“Have a pleasant journey,” Charles wished them over the radio.

“Thanks, Chuck,” Ethan replied. “We will.”

* * *

The first part of the descent was surprisingly uneventful. Erik contemplated the ever-changing cloud patterns as they circled the planet, their orbit getting smaller and smaller and thus closer and closer to Venus. The clouds were so dense that there was no sign of the surface. Even the radar didn’t reveal anything yet.

“Minus 180 degrees,” Nuria reported.

There was as yet no sign of the heat on Venus’s surface.

“I’m measuring CO₂, N₂, SO₂, H₂O, and H₂SO₄,” Nuria declared. None of this was surprising. Sulfuric acid formed up here from sulfur dioxide and water vapor. But the concentration was low, because the atmosphere was still extremely thin.

“Heatshield at one hundred and twenty degrees,” Nuria declared.

The capsule and the spaceship were by no means moving as fast as when they had entered orbit, which was why the heat shield had heated up far less at this point. It was now primarily protecting the fabric of the spaceship.

“Everything’s going well,” Ethan concluded.

* * *

“A hundred and five kilometers,” Ethan announced. Coming from the pilot’s mouth, it sounded like a warning.

Venus’s cloud layer reached up to an altitude of about 100 kilometers. But they were already decidedly feeling the braking effect of the atmosphere.

“We’ll soon jettison the first stage,” Ethan said. “Aaaaand... now.”

There was a small jolt. Had Ethan not warned them, Erik might not have noticed it. The rocket stage must have already been burned out, because the braking force didn’t change.

“Minus thirty degrees,” Nuria reported.

It was much warmer here than at the same altitude in the Earth’s atmosphere.

“Eighty-two kilometers. Four hundred and eighty meters per second,” Ethan read aloud. “Time for the parachute.”

The air resistance of the parachute pushed Erik backward forcefully. He inhaled the wrong way and started to cough. “Parachute deployed,” he said wryly between coughs.

“I will jettison the heat shield at seventy-five kilometers—in about a minute,” Ethan informed them.

This was a critical moment. They needed to discard the shield so that they could inflate the spaceship’s hull. But during the time the hull was being inflated, the ship would not have enough buoyancy to keep their cabin at a steady altitude. This meant that they would plummet toward the ground—slowed down by the parachute—until the atmosphere was so dense and the spaceship filled with so much air that it had sufficient buoyancy.

They did not know at what altitude they would reach that point. They had a rough idea of the structure of the atmosphere, but pressure conditions varied, depending on the prevailing currents and the altitude. There was no way to predict the exact conditions.

“Heatshield now,” Ethan said.

Erik heard a metallic scratching sound. He knew it must be the clamps, which were operated automatically from the cabin. He noticed that Ethan was looking skeptically at the floor. “That noise...?” Erik said.

“There should not have been a noise,” Ethan declared.

The scratching sound stopped and Ethan heaved a sigh of relief. They had evidently gotten lucky. “We’ve cast off the heat shield,” Ethan said.

“It’s a good thing nobody lives down there,” Erik said. “Imagine a ton of metal falling on your head.”

“Certainly nobody lives on the surface,” Nuria said.

As if he had seriously meant that! Anyway, they would soon have made it.

“Blimp is being inflated,” Ethan announced.

Erik would have liked to see that from the side. Above them, an empty balloon of coated fabric was just in the process of being transformed into an elegant spaceship. Erik was able to tell when the blimp inflated because the cabin’s surroundings suddenly darkened. The spaceship had cast its shadow over them. Apparently the sun was just then at its zenith.

“We’re at sixty kilometers,” Ethan reported.

“Pressure at zero point three bar, temperature thirty-five degrees.”

It was tropically warm, but the air was still much thinner than on the Earth’s surface.

“Fifty-five kilometers. We’re still sinking. Blimp at thirty percent.”

Only 30 percent? Why is it taking so long to inflate the blimp?

“Fifty kilometers. Still sinking,” Ethan said.

That was the height at which they had planned to stabilize. “What about the blimp’s inflation?” Erik asked.

“Sixty-seven percent,” Ethan answered.

“One bar, seventy-five degrees,” Nuria added.

She seemed perfectly calm, but that was of no help to Erik. They were sinking below the planned altitude.

“We have some wiggle room for error,” Ethan said. “Don’t worry. At some point the atmosphere will carry us.”

“But by then it may be too hot. What temperature can the spaceship withstand?” Erik asked.

“Two hundred degrees for sure,” Ethan said.

“One point three bars, one hundred and ten degrees,” Nuria said with no trace of emotion.

Erik had to admire her. Does she trust in her God, or why is she not afraid?

“Forty-two kilometers. Slowly sinking,” Ethan said.

‘Slowly?’ That sounds encouraging, anyway.

“One point five bar, one hundred and seventy degrees,” Nuria piped up.

Erik was trembling in his seat. He had the impression that they were falling faster.

“Dammit, we lost the parachute,” Ethan said with steely calmness. “The mountings probably could not withstand the heat.”

Great! If he ever met the engineer who blundered here... If he ever got the chance! Were they fated to die at this point? He mustn’t panic. Ethan seemed to be unconcerned about the loss of the parachute, so maybe it was not as bad as it appeared.

“How much can our cabin withstand?” Erik asked.

“You should know that,” Nuria said. “We studied it.”

He could only remember five bars, five atmospheres, which was five times the pressure on Earth’s surface. But he had hoped that Nuria would now give him a number that was ten times higher. At the very bottom, on the surface, it was supposed to be 92 bar. That was why they had brought the AVs. But if this continued, they would soon be the first humans to land on Venus. How long would they be able to enjoy their fame? One minute? Or would Venus crush them before they reached the surface?

“Thirty-eight kilometers,” Ethan said. “I believe we will make it. The blimp is inflating slowly because of the high pressure, but we’ll soon stabilize.”

“Thanks,” Erik said.

“I’d rather you thank me when the time comes.”

Oh, no! Erik pressed his upper body firmly against the backrest.

“The clouds are opening up,” Nuria said. “You have to look at this!”

She seems to be really excited. How can she exhibit such eagerness in a situation like this? Maybe this would be the last view they would enjoy in their lives.

Hmmm. I should look at the screen. Erik absorbed the picture. A huge, flat structure lay directly below them, a volcanic formation—lava. It had diverged in all directions and then solidified. Above the northern section, a plume of smoke curled up. There seemed to be almost no wind down there.

“That might be Ozza Mons Volcano,” Nuria declared. “And beyond that, that would then be Ganiki Chasma. Do you see the three thick knots in the fracture zone? Viewed in infrared, they are much brighter than the environment. I bet magma spurts up from the mantle there.”

Nuria sounded very enthusiastic. Erik waited for relief-bringing words from the pilot. They really should not get much closer to the volcano.

“Thirty-six kilometers. We’re floating now,” Ethan said.

“That means we made it?” Erik asked.

“If nothing untoward occurs...”

Erik then felt it, too, as they were pulled upward very gently. The spaceship had, by that point, been inflated far enough. Soon clouds were once again moving below them, obscuring their view of the surface. Nuria leaned back in her seat. Her disappointment was visible.

“We’ll explore the surface in a few days using the AVs,” Erik said comfortingly.

“But until then I can only study the surface using radar.”

“That was the plan, Nuria. We first get an overview, and then study particularly interesting areas with the AVs.”

“But the cabin was easily able to withstand the pressure at thirty-eight kilometers,” Nuria insisted. “We’d just need to let out a little air and let the ship sink.”

“That’s out of the question,” Ethan said. “We were lucky that nothing happened down there. And now we are holding at a safe altitude.”

Thanks, Ethan, Erik thought. He was growing fonder and fonder of the man. Back during training at Havre Volcano, Erik had always been the daredevil. But that was probably because he had known that his biological body was safely aboard the ship during their excursions.

“I think we should call it a day, don’t you?” Erik asked.

Ethan shook his head. “First, we need to clarify an important issue. Why was our parachute torn away? That was not supposed to happen.”

Eric sighed. That meant they would have to evaluate some log files. It would probably turn out to have been a material defect not visible from the outside.

“Spaceship to Chuck, spaceship to Chuck,” Ethan said.

“Charles here.”

“You heard everything. We’ve reached an altitude of fifty kilometers.”

“Congratulations, you three. Everything is quiet up here, not to mention, boring. I envy you guys.”

“Well, you have the whole ship to yourself while we have to sleep in one room.”

“You poor things. Incidentally, you will soon be out of radio range. Bye for now.”

“Bye, Chuck, and remember, when Chuck Norris is bored, he crochets tanks,” Ethan said, and Erik and Nuria waved.

Carried away by the 360 km/h storms of Venus, their almost 130-meter-long spaceship dove into the darkness of night.

June 4, 2079, Venusian Atmosphere

“Hey, what smells so good?” asked Nuria.

Erik turned to her. She was lying in her sleeping bag on her mattress, just now unfastening the safety belt. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” he said. “Breakfast will be served in ten minutes.”

“Look at Ethan. He’s still asleep.”

“He’s earned the privilege after his late shift,” Erik said.

They alternated being on watch every six hours. Erik didn’t see how that was supposed to support a healthy circadian rhythm, but he would get through the one month. The earplugs with active noise cancellation worked well, but he found the sleep glasses uncomfortable.

“I’ll be right over,” Ethan said.

“You can remain in bed,” Erik offered. “We’ll keep something for you.”

“That’s okay, four hours of sleep suffices.”

How long had he slept today? Had he managed three hours? He rubbed his temples, hoping the pressure behind them would not grow into a headache. The best thing would be to take a pill right away. Erik stooped, rummaged in the compartment labeled with a red cross, and took out a packet with painkillers.

“Pling.” That was the oven. Erik straightened back up. Dammit, he thought with a short yelp. His head had hit the edge of the stove, which jutted forward a few centimeters. At least the pill would come in useful now.

“Are you all right?” Nuria asked. She was standing under the improvised shower, hidden behind a curtain.

“I’m perfectly fine. The rolls are ready.”

“Be right with you,” she said.

* * *

Five minutes later, they were sitting side by side on low stools along a narrow wall-mounted board, having breakfast. They could choose between various pastes they could smear on the still warm rolls. Some tasted of fruits, others of cheese or sausage, but the consistency was nearly always the same.

With his eyes closed, Erik bit into his bun and imagined he was sitting in a café. He had never succeeded while on the spaceship. There, the smell of machine oil and sweat always brought him back to reality. But here, with real gravity and in a nearly pristine cabin, he almost managed to escape to Oslo. It would be winter outside. At least the lighting here matched that.

It was currently nighttime and would remain so for more than 24 hours. The spaceship was racing across the side of the planet that was facing away from the sun. They didn’t notice the ship’s motion much, however. No matter how fast the wind drove the cloud layer, one could not hear the ship’s movement. The cabin only rolled slightly now and then. It felt like a ship crossing the wake of another marine vessel.

“Poor Charles,” Nuria said. “He has to have breakfast all by himself.”

“Speaking of Charles, have you heard the one about Chuck Norris and Jesus?” Ethan asked.

“Yes, you already told us that one,” Erik said.

“And the one about the eye drops?”

“Yes, Chuck Norris uses Tabasco,” Nuria replied.

“Okay, we’ve already been traveling together for too long,” Ethan said, laughing.

“Since when have you been calling Charles, ‘Chuck?’” Erik asked.

“Oh, come on, with that name? Everyone does that!” Ethan said.

“But Chuck Norris has been dead for a long time.”

“No, Erik, Chuck Norris doesn’t die because death is afraid of him.”

Erik yawned. Ethan really had a retro tic. He also liked movies with, what was his name—was it Arnold Schwarzenberger? “What are we doing today?” he asked.

“Getting everything ready, testing systems,” Nuria said. “We already discussed this.”

She was right, they had. He would take a look at the AVs.

* * *

Nuria hailed him in the afternoon. She was standing by a machine at the back of the cabin, holding up a flap.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Are the AVs in good condition?”

“Yes, they made it through the descent in good condition, both of them,” he said.

“I need you for a small test.”

“As long as it doesn’t hurt...”

“You just have to breathe in here,” Nuria explained, pointing to a flexible, metallic tube that looked like a hose from a hand-held shower. It had an opening in front with a porous membrane.

“What does this do?” Erik asked.

“It’s a gas analyzer,” Nuria explained.

“A chromatograph?”

“That, too. Think of it as a combination of a liquid chromatograph, mass spectrometer, and spectrometer. It separates the chemical components of a substance, and determines their properties and their proportions.”

“Why do you need my breath?”

“To practice. I have already analyzed the room air, my urine, and my own breath. If you had cancer, we could detect it on this occasion.”

“Great.”

“Come on. You definitely don’t have cancer.”

Erik lowered his head to reach the opening of the input hose.

“Just blow hard,” Nuria urged.

Erik blew as hard as he could.

“Thanks, that’s enough.”

“Doesn’t the room air that also gets into the hose interfere?” he asked.

“I’ve already analyzed that, so it’s not a problem. When I examine real samples later, they will be in glass tubes like these.”

Nuria held up a tube as long as her arm and as thick as her thumb. It had a metal flange at one end.

“When you use that, you will need a lot of material for analyzing,” Erik said.

“The more, the better.” Nuria manipulated the device, which made a high-pitched humming sound. Numerical values could be seen on a small screen.

“Do we already have the first results?” he asked.

“No, that will take a few minutes. The device works like a filter, but chemically instead of mechanically. The individual molecules are now reacting with different substances in there, and therefore take different amounts of time to appear at the exit. This way I can study them separately.”

“Sounds complicated,” Erik said.

“Oh, not for me. The software makes all the decisions. I’m just the slave who operates the machine and obtains the results that it spits out at the end. By the way, you don’t have cancer, that’s pretty clear.”

“How does the apparatus know?”

“It’s not a single substance that reveals the presence of cancer, but certain combinations and patterns. The software knows what’s normal for humans and alerts one to deviations.”

As if the device had been waiting for this keyword, it started to beep. Erik was startled. “Cancer after all?”

Nuria placed her hand on his shoulder. “No, this was to be expected. The device has discovered life. You, of course, breathed lots of bacteria into the apparatus. And the main purpose of the apparatus is to detect signs of life. That’s another reason why I have to train the device first. Otherwise it will register every unicellular organism from Earth, even though we are not interested in them.”

“Couldn’t this have been done on Earth?”

“That would have been impractical. We have far fewer species of bacteria creeping and crawling on board than on Earth.”

“Very reassuring,” Erik said.

“There are still enough to kill you if they get any ideas.”

June 5, 2079, Venusian Atmosphere

The view from the roof of the cabin was breathtaking. A fine mist enveloped him, giving his headlamp’s light cone a well-defined structure. But the fog was not as dense as he had expected. They were, after all, in the middle of a cloud layer that spanned many kilometers. It was for that reason that the light beam reached particularly far.

Erik sat on the front edge of the roof and looked down. The light followed his head movement. It cut a white cone in the clouds. The cone became broader—because of dispersion—and then narrowed again—because of the perspective. The beam couldn’t reach the surface, since it was much too far away. It looked as if there was a kilometer-deep well below him, the bottom of which seethed mysteriously.

He was alone out here. Nuria was still busy with her apparatus. He had managed to persuade Charles to approve this excursion, because Nuria needed more samples for calibrating the analyzer. For this reason, her own AV was still attached to the roof of the cabin, while Erik was clambering about here. Of course, his biological body was safe—he was lying in his armchair, down below in the warmth of the cabin. No, in the cold, compared to out here where it was 75 degrees.

He slowly turned his head upward. It had been so long since he had been in his AV that it seemed strange to him once again to be so flexible. He turned his head until he was looking straight up. The beam of light shone onto the mighty spaceship above him. Erik knew it was lighter than the surrounding atmosphere. Nevertheless, it looked like a massive rock, hanging only a few meters above him and threatening to fall on top of him.

He pulled himself up on one of the cables. The cabin hung on six cables that were at most finger-thick. The engineers said they could easily support ten times the weight of the cabin. However, in Erik’s eyes they did not inspire confidence. He unhooked his safety line and attached it again some distance in front of him. If he fell, he would not die, but it would be a significant loss for the expedition. And for himself—after all, he hoped to soon be the first person to step on Venus’s surface via the AV.

“Are you all right out there?” Ethan asked.

“I’m fine. I feel great. You should see the view!”

“I can. Your pictures are being live-streamed via the main computer.”

“But it’s different to be out here personally,” Erik said.

Suddenly, his shoulder hurt.

“Nothing of the sort. You’re not outside,” Ethan said, laughing, and pinched Erik’s biological shoulder again.

“Hey man, stop that, I could lose the connection. You’re just jealous,” Erik retorted.

“I admit it. Yes, I’d like to be climbing up there now.”

“Then just come out. Your spacesuit can no doubt withstand the temperature.”

“Chuck would be furious. I can’t do that, especially due to the risk of contamination. There’s a reason why the AVs never enter the cabin,” Ethan said.

“That’s right,” Erik admitted.

“I’m reluctant to interrupt your friendly chat, you two buddies,” Nuria said, “but Erik has a job to perform out there.”

She was right, as always. Erik suppressed a sigh and went to the other end of the cabin, where he found a round hatch cover. He unscrewed it and lifted it up to open the airlock. He could climb down using a ladder on the wall, but that would be counterproductive. It was better if the AV remained up top.

Instead, he reached for the metal rack hanging from the ladder. It looked like a crate for drinks, but it was not made of plastic, which would—of course—melt up here. Inside were three glass sample containers, similar to the ones Nuria had shown him yesterday. He placed the rack on the cabin roof, where it stuck, magnetically. He lifted out the first glass cylinder.

Erik needed to concentrate. The material that he held in his hands felt different to the AV’s fingers than it would to his real fingers. The thermal sensors and the tactile sensors measured the surface structure, and their measurements needed to be converted into human sensations in such a way that he could handle them. The metal at the end of the glass cylinder, for instance, had quickly become as hot as its surroundings. But if his brain was given the impression of a temperature of 75 degrees, he would feel pain and instinctively drop the sample containers. To prevent losing anything, the metal closure felt warm, but not too hot.

Slowly, Erik opened the seal, being careful not to use too much force. After all, he must not break the glass tube. There was some resistance when he tried to pull off the cover, probably due to lower pressure inside the tube.

He held the cover in his left hand and held the tube aloft. “Is that enough?”

Nuria was watching him via the outdoor cameras, as they had previously agreed upon. “Excellent. Please continue to hold it up and close it again.”

He followed the instructions and then put the glass tube back into the rack. “And now?”

“Repeat two more times, please,” Nuria said.

He took the second tube out of the rack and tried to open it.

“Wait,” Nuria said. “A different height would be nice for comparison.”

“How can I do that?” he asked. “Should I climb up to the spaceship?”

“Don’t you dare,” Ethan said. “I’ll let some air out first so we’ll sink. Then I’ll add some, and we’ll rise again.”

A pity, Erik thought. He would have enjoyed a little climbing excursion.

“You’d better hold on tight.”

Ethan’s warning came just in time, because the cabin sank and swayed in the process. It then stabilized again.

“I’m sorry,” Ethan said. “The currents flow a bit differently here.”

“Everything’s okay,” Erik said. He opened the glass tube’s metal cover and waited until it had filled with air from the environment. “Actually, how long do I have to wait?” he asked.

“A few milliseconds,” Nuria replied.

“Good, then I’m done here.” Erik closed the tube and held on tightly. They would be rising again soon.

But nothing happened. “Umm, Ethan?”

“Yes, just a moment. There’s an obstruction to the flow of gas to the spaceship.”

“Should I repair it?”

“It’s okay. I’ll do that from down here.”

“Ethan, you know that a good kick can sometimes work wonders.”

“We’ll use that option in a true emergency, okay? I think I found it. The security system detected a foreign object on the roof of the cabin and wanted me to investigate it first.”

“I’m still up here,” Erik said.

“I should hope so. Hold on.”

Erik grasped one of the cabin’s suspension ropes. They were rising. This time the cabin didn’t sway. “Just how did you persuade the security system?” he asked.

“I turned it off for the moment. But don’t tell Chuck.”

“I can hear you,” their commander said. “You’ve been out of the wireless shadow for an hour already.”

“Oh, great.” Ethan coughed.

“Good morning, by the way,” Nuria said. “But now, please, the third sample, Erik.”

He took the glass tube out of the rack, opened it, waited briefly, and placed it back. “Done,” he said.

“Come back in,” Ethan commanded.

“If we have left the wireless shadow from Charles’s perspective, it will not be long before the sun comes up,” Erik said. “I would like to stay out here until then.”

“I envy you, but I can’t forbid it,” Ethan replied. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you. You can view it through my eyes on the screen.”

“That’s not the same thing, but that’s okay. Have fun.”

* * *

Erik sat on the front edge of the cabin with his face turned toward the direction in which they were flying. He let his legs dangle and made sure that he was properly secured. Then he looked at the horizon. A yellowish spot had formed there, in the shape of a horizontal crescent moon. It was the sun, slowly pushing upward as he flew toward it. It was much larger than he had ever seen from Earth. The veil of clouds it wore hid the fact that it radiated far more heat here than at home.

Suddenly rays of all colors of the spectrum cascaded over him. It was a kind of rainbow! The sunlight must be passing through a cloud layer with lots of water vapor. No Venus researcher would have believed that such phenomena existed here. It was a unique spectacle, and it was over after only a few minutes.

“Did you see that?” he asked.

“Saw it and recorded it,” Nuria replied. “The atmospheric researchers will be happy.”

“I’m happy, too,” Erik said.

June 7, 2079, Venusian Atmosphere

This time the two of them were standing together on the roof of the cabin—Nuria had insisted on helping him with the collection of samples, and Erik could understand. The experience of being at the top of the world, with your head in the clouds, was simply unsurpassed.

But she also had a practical reason. To get samples from as many different atmospheric layers as possible, they wanted to rappel from the ship. Although their AV bodies could withstand high pressure and heat, the spaceship itself could not sink much lower than 40 kilometers. Therefore, they would plunge into the depths using a safety line.

“It’ll be an adventure, just like back at the Havre Volcano,” Nuria had said.

But there were a few differences. The ship from which they had jumped into the sea at that time was not hurtling at 360 kilometers per hour across the surface of the sea. The suits would enable them to climb back up with the help of the inbuilt jetpacks, but if they weren’t able to get to the spaceship, they would not be able to reach it until four days later, once it had flown around Venus. You could only make the ship stop if you made the entire atmosphere of Venus stand still. However, only the sun had the ability to do so—if it were to be switched off, the force of Venus’s winds would quickly subside.

“Do you have the rack with the tubes?” Nuria asked.

Erik pointed toward his feet. “Right under your nose.”

“Okay, Ethan, we’re ready. Could you please stop every thousand meters?” Nuria asked.

“Will do, as agreed upon,” Ethan replied.

Erik grasped the rope. The clouds showed intricate patterns of yellow, purple, and light blue streaks. A delicate, gray veil covered everything, subduing the colors and swallowing up part of the sunlight. It was not as misty as in a laundry room, but more like a rare, gray November day on the Atlantic coast, when no wind was blowing.

But looks can be deceiving. A storm roared around them, stronger than any hurricane on Earth. They didn’t notice it was happening because the atmosphere carried them along with it. They decided to plunge near the equator, and for good reason. Further north and south, colder currents met warm air layers and were pushed downward. If the spaceship were to enter such a spot, they would undoubtedly lose control of the ship.

They began to rappel down. Erik observed the spaceship’s hull above him. It looked as though there were dents on the sides. But that could also be due to the ever-increasing air pressure. Ethan has it under control, he told himself.

“Okay, you have reached the first stop,” Ethan said over the radio.

The cabin swayed a little. Nuria took a sample tube, filled it with air from Venus’s atmosphere, and placed it back in the rack.

* * *

After half an hour the crate was half full.

“I can’t lower you any further,” Ethan reported from the cockpit. “The rest is up to you.”

Erik nodded at Nuria, who made an okay sign with her right hand. He placed one sample container after another into the tool bag. Ten glass tubes—that translated to a ten-kilometer dive into the depths. He secured the special rope by pulling it through the steel grommet on the cabin, and then released his safety catch. He walked to the edge of the roof. He knew he shouldn’t look down, but he couldn’t resist. It didn’t look too scary, because thick clouds covered the abyss.

Erik jumped into the clouds. As he fell, his palms became moist. He looked at them briefly, but there was nothing to see. It must be the sweat glands of his own hands that produced the moisture. He briefly saw himself clinging to the safe armchair in the cabin. He wiped away the thought before a dangerous loop could be created. One of the first lessons in dealing with an AV—never look at your real body.

He used a thought command to obtain the current altitude. It was shown in his field of vision—a red number appeared, floating in the air. It was time to press the brake. He was now 39,000 meters above the surface of Venus. He carefully took out a glass tube, filled it, and put it in another compartment of the tool bag. If he were to break one of the tubes, Nuria would give him hell. Erik laughed. Even for Nuria, it would be difficult to surpass the heat of Venus’s hell. It was already 98 degrees, and the pressure was continuously rising.

* * *

At an altitude of 35,000 meters, the cloud cover beneath him opened up. Erik saw a fascinating landscape that reminded him of the undersea area around the Havre Volcano—only here it was not so dark. It was an enormous desert. But the terrain had little in common with Earth’s. He had seen pictures of Mars, which looked almost cozy by comparison.

While Mars reminded him of an old, fat man whose wrinkles were hardly noticeable due to subcutaneous adipose tissue, Venus reminded him more of a woman who couldn’t care less about her age. Venus still had a lot of energy—inside, as shown by the volcanic activity—but also on the outside, where storms roared over and roughly caressed the planet.

The surface seemed so close from here that Erik would have liked to rappel all the way to the surface. His AV body would easily cope with the pressure and heat down there. It must be a strange feeling, perhaps almost like swimming. But such a descent had not been planned. On no account did NASA want to lose the expensive AVs, and in any case, the cloud cover was more promising than the surface, which was generally considered to be geologically active but utterly devoid of life. What kind of life could exist down there, anyway? Nevertheless, he’d like to go for a walk.

“Everything okay, Erik?”

“Of course.”

He’d almost forgotten the task Nuria had assigned him. He took another glass tube out of his pocket. The containers were color-coded so that each sample could be assigned to a specific elevation. He filled the tube and retrieved the corresponding environmental data—three bar pressure, 132 degrees.

* * *

“That’s the last stop. You can’t go any further,” Ethan said.

Erik checked the special rope. He could descend a few more kilometers. And then he also had the jetpack. But it was a good thing that Ethan cared about his safety. “Taking the last sample,” he said.

He reached into the tool bag for the last glass tube that was marked in purple at the top. He pulled it out—and watched in amazement. As if a strong hand was squeezing it, dents formed in the brittle glass, starting in the middle. Then cracks formed, and finally the whole lower part of the tube burst, disintegrating into tiny pieces that fell, along with its seal, toward Venus’s surface. Erik was left with the upper part of the tube in his hand.

“Did you see that?” he asked.

“Yes, too bad,” Nuria said. “I’m missing a value now.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Erik. It must have been a manufacturing defect,” Ethan consoled him.

“Definitely,” Nuria said. “The tubes are designed to withstand up to 50 bar. That was not supposed to happen.”

“Maybe it was the paint,” Erik said. “You applied the color afterward. It conducts heat at a different rate than the glass. That could have led to temperature differences, which caused the breakage—”

“Hmm. That sounds plausible,” Nuria said. “Then it was my mistake.”

“Don’t worry about it. After all, you have nineteen samples,” Erik said.

“Yes, that’s true,” Nuria conceded.

“Since we are here, what do you think of a descent to the surface?” He could at least try, even though he already knew the answer.

“No way,” Ethan said. “I forbid it.”

“Okay, I’ll come back up then,” Erik said.

He closed the tool bag and switched on the electric motor. It rewound the rope, pulling him upward.

June 8, 2079, Strelka, Venus Orbit

They had performed their daily exercise regimen for the last time yesterday. Peter was now looking forward to the massage session. It would be the last one for a long time. They had gravity again, because the spaceship had been decelerating for a while. That was quite convenient, because there was a lot to do that was unnecessarily complicated in conditions of weightlessness. Chiefly, they needed to load the landing module in preparation for its mission.

Peter looked at the screen above his seat. Venus appeared bigger each day. They would dive into its orbit in a few hours, circle the planet a few times to explore the current wind conditions, and then land.

Maria was sitting next to him. It looked as if she was also studying her screen, but Peter knew her well by now. She was deep in thought, revealed by the vertical crease on her forehead.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I’m a little scared,” she admitted. “Not of what awaits us below, but of the flight through the atmosphere. We can only see the upper layers. What if there’s so much turbulence below them that the landing module can’t keep its balance?”

“Everything will be fine,” Peter said. “We know all about the conditions in the lower air layers, due to the many unmanned flights. And the robots and the equipment arrived in good condition at the RB ground station. For now, let us enjoy the last wellness highlight of our outbound flight!”

But Marchenko interrupted them. “I have important information for you. Our sensors have discovered a second spaceship orbiting Venus. Meanwhile, we have confirmation from Earth that it’s a NASA expedition looking for life in the atmospheric layers. So we have to dive as quickly as possible so that they don’t get a chance to observe our landing.”

“How long have you known about this?” Maria asked.

The AI hemmed and hawed. Peter sensed that they were not going to like the answer. How annoying this perpetual secrecy is!

“The basic outline of the NASA expedition’s plan has been known to us for some time. However, we thought that we would arrive a few days before them. Then we could simply have identified ourselves as a research mission.”

I knew it! “When, exactly, did the sensors discover the ship?” he asked sternly.

“Two days ago. But I was instructed to first clarify the situation with RB before I spoke with you.”

“Valentina?”

Marchenko did not answer.

“And now we can no longer disguise ourselves as a research mission?”

“Well, yes, we certainly can, but we just have to keep the NASA crew from finding the base’s location. It’s pretty easy to see from the exterior that we’re not just performing research there.”

“What does this mean for us?”

“The lander will disappear into the clouds pretty quickly. The descent could thus be bumpy. I’ll keep sick bags ready for you.”

“Thanks a lot, Marchenko,” Peter said. “I would like you to inform us in a timely fashion in the future.”

The AI didn’t answer.

* * *

Peter undressed and lay down in his capsule, deep in thought. The massage session began. It was a pleasant feeling as always, but today it was difficult for him to relax. The news about NASA’s mission had caught him off guard, and he was angry with RB for not giving them the message until the very end.

He posed a question into the air. “Where’s Katarina?”

“She’s already in the lander, ready to take off,” Marchenko replied. “But you still have at least three hours left. We want to find an optimal point so that you don’t need to travel too far to the base station, even though the lander itself can compensate for a few hundred kilometers with the help of its engines.”

Would they really not have contact with NASA, go about their work undisturbed, and disappear again unseen? What if the NASA researchers noticed their activities? He sighed. RB itself would be held accountable for any problems that arose. He fell asleep with these thoughts.

* * *

“I’ll miss these capsules,” Maria said as she emerged, clothed, from behind the dividing wall, after the session ended.

“Can I send Valentina this comment as feedback?” Marchenko asked. “She asked me for an evaluation. This combined exercise and cultural program, including the massage sessions, was her idea, most likely born out of her month-long stay on the research spaceship ILSE, which she probably found very stressful.”

What transpired back in those days? Peter mused. If his information sources were right, the AI was present on both ILSE expeditions.

“Yes, of course, and give her our regards,” Maria answered.

“When you communicate with Valentina, please ask her if there’s any news about Anastasia,” Peter said. “I would find it extremely reassuring if she were behind bars. Or dead.”

“Oh—the NASA ship is hailing us,” Marchenko said. “They want to know who we are and what we are doing here. It’s best if you answer, Maria. A woman’s voice always makes a good impression.”

“What should I say?”

“Something about a routine inspection, and just leave the rest unsaid.”

“Okay,” Maria said, swallowing audibly.

“I’ll connect you now,” Marchenko said.

“Hello,” Maria said in a honeyed voice. “This is Maria from the RB spaceship. What’s up?”

“Hello. This is Charles, the commander of Venus Air. I would like to know what you are looking for out here, in the middle of nowhere.”

“Well, we could ask you the same question.”

Charles laughed. His voice sounded friendly.

Too bad we’re on opposing sides. I could certainly share a few convivial drinks with him, Peter thought.

“You’re right,” the NASA commander replied. “We are a NASA research expedition.”

“And what are you doing here?” Maria asked.

She has expertly taken the initiative. I could not have done better, thought Peter.

“We’re examining Venus’s atmosphere. Our plan has been made known for a long time, so it almost surprises me that you are only getting in touch now. We could have reached an agreement. Maybe one of us will need help.”

“We’re here for a routine inspection,” Maria said. “Unfortunately, there is not much time to chat. We have to prepare for landing. Have fun.”

Charles stopped asking questions and ended the conversation. A real pity. Under different circumstances… But the RB mission was too sensitive to handle onlookers.

* * *

It took less than 30 minutes for Peter and Maria to arrive at the landing module, stow away their personal belongings, and strap themselves into their special seats. Maria’s seat was still humming, while Peter’s seat had already adjusted to his body. On a screen, they could see the planet they were about to set foot on. At least they hoped they were!

Venus looked extremely beautiful in its own way, but not exactly inviting. Bands of dense, pale-yellow clouds prevented them from viewing the actual surface. The clouds moved at hurricane speed around the equator and acted as a barrier, as if to ward off intruders. Sulfuric acid lay in wait for them in the clouds. Venus was certainly not the place Peter would choose for a vacation, even if the sulfuric-acid rain evaporated before it could reach the surface. The surface with its temperatures between 400 and 500 degrees was simply too hot for the acid—and was likewise too sultry for a summer vacation.

What will it look like at our destination? Peter wondered. He had viewed radar images of the region called Lakshmi Planum. It was a plateau, almost four kilometers high, named after the Hindu goddess of wealth. Had RB chosen this location because of its name? The lava flows, visible on the radar images as lines, had cooled off a long time ago. They had almost certainly been the deciding factor, because it was volcanic eruptions that brought diamonds to the surface. And RB’s ultimate goal was, after all, the mining of diamonds.

“You’re ready to launch,” Marchenko announced.

The airlocks closed. Loud rumbling and humming told them that the decoupling process had begun. First, the protective hull of the spaceship opened. Then the landing module was moved away from the spaceship, centimeter by centimeter, the load-bearing arms still grasping it. Only at the right moment would they give the lander a precisely calculated thrust against the direction of flight of the spaceship.

The countdown for that moment had begun.

Three, two, one. A brief push, and they were flying independently, orbiting Venus.

“Separation successful,” Marchenko commented.

The lander and the ship drifted apart.

“Safe distance achieved,” Marchenko said.

Peter anticipated the next thrust, and here it came. The power of the lander’s engines pushed him back into his seat, their thrust reducing the speed of the lander. The engines did not have to do anything beyond that—Venus’s gravity took care of the rest.

Again and again, the engines fired briefly, either to correct the transporter’s speed or to stabilize its position, because they had already reached the planet’s atmosphere.

June 8, 2079, Venusian Atmosphere

Erik yawned. Could someone please strike this day off the calendar? Ethan was comfortably seated at the controls, Nuria was busy analyzing the samples, and he was supposed to clean. Oh, great! In return, Ethan had promised to assign the next spacewalk to him, which had not annoyed Nuria in the least. She was so absorbed in her work that she was reluctant to join them for meals.

Erik pushed the shower curtain aside and knelt in front of the narrow, white basin. At the edge, where the basin was attached to the steel wall, there were telltale black stripes. What was growing there seemed to like the climate in the cabin. Erik took a brush out of the bucket and collared the little creatures. He then decided to use a scraper.

He scraped off some of the coating. “Do you want to analyze this?” he asked Nuria. “Just for practice?”

“I’m busy right now,” she replied. “But place it in a sample container and I’ll look at it under the microscope when I get a chance.”

“Okay.” Erik used the brush again and scrubbed away the stripes. He started to sweat.

“Commander to spaceship,” Charles called over the radio.

“Hi, Chuck. We’re all right down here,” Ethan said. “And you?”

“It’s a bit boring, at least until just now.”

“Why until now?”

“Do you remember Tarasov?”

“Institute of Planetary Research, somewhere in Siberia?” Ethan asked.

“Precisely. He had hinted at something back when we communicated with him. It looks like he was right.”

“C’mon now, don’t keep us in suspense.”

“The sensors say we’re getting visitors. The DFDs are clearly visible via telescope. It’s the RB ship.”

“Impressive how quickly they caught up with us,” Ethan said.

“It would be interesting to know what they’re doing here,” Charles said. “They can’t be serious about landing on the surface, can they?”

Erik was listening attentively. “Why don’t you ask them?” Erik suggested.

“Chuck Norris doesn’t ask questions. People ask him questions,” Ethan said.

“Haha. You’ll laugh, but I asked,” Charles said. “A woman called Maria answered. She said it was a routine inspection and wouldn’t reveal any further details.”

“Then it’s time to talk about the agreement with Tarasov,” Ethan said.

“We’ll wait until Nuria gets some results,” Charles said.

“Tomorrow... Tomorrow I will have something,” Nuria said.

* * *

Erik was just about to go to sleep when Charles spoke again. “The Russians are quick off the mark,” he said without an initial greeting. “A lander of some sort has left their ship and is headed for the surface.”

“Do you know if there are humans aboard?” Ethan asked.

“It’s hard to tell. But they aren’t accelerating a lot, which leads me to think there might be people in there, and they don’t want to expose them to excessive acceleration.”

“Well, on the other hand, perhaps the engine just can’t accelerate any further.”

“Anyway, Ethan, the lander’s orbit is offset by a quarter, in other words, 45 degrees against the equatorial plane. Therefore, their destination could be anywhere, apart from the poles. It is impossible to accurately predict where they’ll land.”

“That’s okay,” Ethan said, “maybe we’ll see them from here. They will be wise enough to land near the equator, won’t they?”

“The lander’s path seems to indicate that they won’t be landing in that region,” Charles said. “I think they want to go north or south. Otherwise they wouldn’t have spent energy on changing the orbital plane.”

“Do they already know that there are unpleasant downdrafts there?”

“They can see that. But one definitely doesn’t notice the wind on the ground. Maybe they don’t want us to be able to reach the area with the spaceship. The whole world knows that we’re sailing here in the clouds. If they don’t want us to know about their activities, they just have to land somewhere besides the equator.”

“I see. We’ll try to keep an eye on them anyway.”

“Good luck with that. I’ll keep you posted.”

June 8, 2079, Venus Base

Although they had both intensively studied their temporary home planet during the outbound flight, it was nevertheless a strange feeling to be carried along on the wind through Venus’s atmosphere. They sank quickly, but again and again the engines slowed the descent so as not to burden the heat shield unnecessarily. Peter’s stomach could not cope with the changes, and he vomited into a bag. He was keeping a second bag within reach, just in case.

After they crossed the lower border of the acid layer, the turbulence decreased. There was hardly any wind on the ground. Peter looked at the instruments, which indicated a maximum wind speed of two meters per second. On Earth, that would be a light breeze, but because of the higher density of Venus’s atmosphere, it corresponded to a wind force of 4—no problem for the transporter and its engines. Just before landing, Peter clutched the armrests, but they touched down surprisingly gently.

The landing module scanned the environment, with the screen in front of them continually updating the results. It was hot outside, just under 460 degrees, and the pressure reached 90 bar, equivalent to 90 times the pressure on the Earth’s surface.

Peter changed to the camera picture. The colors were awe-inspiring. The surface consisted of rocks of volcanic origin, which should look dark gray to black. On the screen, however, a brownish-yellow plain was visible on which a few stones were scattered, some smaller and others larger. The atmosphere, which filtered sunlight, was responsible for the effect. Peter wiped the screen and then felt annoyed at his stupidity. The plastic wasn’t foggy! The fact that visibility was limited to a few kilometers was due to the dense atmosphere.

“Pretty dark here,” Maria said.

“No wonder—the atmosphere only lets five percent of the incoming sunlight through to the surface,” Peter said.

“Smart aleck. Do you realize that we’ll always see Venus’s surface in a twilight state? I wonder what that might do to our psyche.”

“At least we’ll have permanent daylight while we’re here.”

“Small consolation,” Maria retorted.

“Well, just imagine if we had arrived during the night phase. It would have been hardly any cooler, but there would have been constant darkness!”

Both of them had been wondering how it would feel to walk outside in their pressure suits. They hoped to embark on their first excursion soon. It was a pity that, due to the clouds, they would never see the sun moving from west to east instead of east to west. Where else would one get to see such a sight?

Peter released the seat restraints and stood up. “Well, then, let’s take possession of the planet. If you get off first, I can take a picture of you. After all, you will be the first person on Venus’s surface!”

“That’s not worth a lot to me. Now that I’m being hunted on Earth, I can’t have any publicity,” Maria said with a sigh.

“Then let’s go outside together. We’ll let the transporter’s photosensors take the pictures. We each get a file as a private memento, and we can subsequently delete the pictures. Okay?”

Maria nodded and got up. She then hopped a few times.

“Are you all right?” Peter asked.

“I’m doing fine. I just wanted to see if that exercise regimen was worth it.”

“And?”

“Yes. I’m as fit as an athlete.”

* * *

In front of the airlock they found four pressure suits that they would need when going outdoors. Although the suits were not intended for day-long outdoor excursions, they could endure a few hours on the surface if they wore them.

“They look like those ancient Newtsuit tank diving suits,” Peter said. “Only the helmet is more stylish.”

“Newtsuit?”

“A metal shell that the diver had to step into. Basically a one-man submarine,” he explained.

“Then let’s go diving,” Maria said.

Katarina helped them into the pressure suits. The process of donning the suits took a while. Peter first had to slip on the soft, inner suit that adapted to his body shape. Afterward he climbed into the outer, steel shell, which retained its shape even at 90 bar. Katarina placed his helmet on his head and then helped Maria. Their helmets were different colors, probably so that one could easily distinguish the wearers. Peter raised his arm and almost slapped his own face. The engines of the exoskeleton reacted much more quickly and powerfully than he had expected. They would have to practice moving around in the suits.

Maria waved to him. She was wearing a red helmet. “Can we leave?” she asked over the helmet radio.

“Wait a minute,” Katarina said. She packed Peter and Maria’s necessities into a special pressure-resistant box, which she attached to Peter’s suit. Then she also climbed into a pressure suit.

“You too?” Maria asked.

“My body was not built for functioning at 90 bar. Therefore, like you, I can only tread upon the surface in a pressure suit.”

All three of them entered the small airlock. The breathable air was pumped out as soon as the door closed. After a few minutes the airlock had been flooded with air from Venus’s atmosphere, and the bulkhead in front of them opened. They stepped onto the already-extended ramp, which sank to the ground. RB’s autonomous robots were already waiting. Peter took Maria’s hand in his, and together they stepped onto Venus’s surface. Katarina waited, as if she knew about their prior agreement, and then followed them.

As soon as Peter, Maria, and Katarina had left the extendable ramp, the robots pushed transport boxes onto it. The loading ramp was raised and the cargo disappeared through the airlock into the transporter.

Peter looked at the robots. Compared to them he was a dwarf, even when wearing the pressure suit. The robots each moved by using several short tracks that they could control independently. What materials did RB use to enable these machines to withstand the extreme conditions here on Venus for extended periods of time? he wondered.

“Come on, we have to go,” Maria said, lightly nudging him with the arm of her suit. Peter turned to her and imitated the gesture. The huge arm seemed to move of its own accord, although he had triggered its movement with his own arm.

He forced himself to stop gawking at the machines. The road was clearly marked. Robots were transporting freight like ants moving in lines. They were moving numerous small boxes from the base to the transporter.

Peter next programmed the display in his helmet to estimate the distance to their accommodation. The helmet showed 432 meters, but he guessed that would be ‘as the crow flies.’

He had already observed from the lander just how rugged the plateau was. In front of them lay slabs of solidified lava, partially broken and tilted against one another, as well as a row of rocks and boulders, presumably also of volcanic origin, which they would have to get around.

Slowly, they started to move. With each step he found himself able to control the suit with greater proficiency. As one might expect, Katarina handled her suit with perfect mastery from the start.

* * *

The transporter had landed near the edge of a slab of lava. They left the wide hill and moved a short distance on the adjacent, flat terrain, until they reached a solidified lava flow. It was evident that robots had dug a cave and built the base station at the bottom of the next hill. The three of them frequently had to yield to RB’s machines.

The base lay below an embankment, but a transporter was blocking their path.

“Should I ask Marchenko to move the transporter out of our way?” Katarina asked.

“No, don’t bother. We will just look for a different route to get there,” Peter said.

Katarina moved her head from side to side several times. Apparently she was scanning the sloping area. Then she went ahead of them. Everything went well until they were about halfway. Suddenly, Katarina toppled over.

Peter saw a big stone shoot forth from under her foot, and he knew she must have stepped on loose pebbles. He gasped. With a loud clatter, Katarina rolled in the direction of the valley, toward a lava flow. Peter switched to infrared and could see the lava was hot. This flow had not cooled yet. But Katarina’s suit reacted quickly. First, her body tilted in the direction of the leg that triggered the rock avalanche. Then the shell of the suit stiffened, and as quick as lightning it shifted its center of gravity so that the suit came to a halt.

“That was an acrobatic feat,” Peter said. Sweat born of fear was running down his temples, so he turned up the ventilation.

“Thanks, but the suit did it all by itself,” said Katarina. “As soon as the acceleration sensors noticed me falling, the suit took control and stabilized me.”

“Very reassuring,” Maria said.

Peter was not so sure about that. Would the machine take control of him? That made him uneasy. But he didn’t say anything. After all, the quick reaction had saved Katarina from being seriously damaged.

* * *

They reached the base station’s gate a quarter of an hour later. Peter looked at the clock. It was now after midnight, Moscow time, and he was not at all tired. Adrenaline had a strong effect! They let one more of the machines pass them, and then entered the vestibule of the station.

June 9, 2079, Venusian Atmosphere

It was dark again outside. This circadian rhythm thing still bothered Erik. He had been yawning all day. They had been unable to find out where the RB expedition had landed. The lander had disappeared under the cloud cover at just the wrong moment, so they could only roughly estimate the landing region. It was definitely on what was at present the day side. If there are people on board, they must really be sweating.

Erik was having breakfast alone. Nuria was where he had last seen her yesterday, at the analyzer. He hoped she had not been foolish enough to forego her sleep! At that moment, Nuria turned around and came toward him. She dropped onto the stool next to him and closed her eyes.

He could see from her face that she had not slept. “Well? Was it at least worth it?” he asked.

She opened her eyes—there was no need to answer. Despite the fatigue, her big, dark eyes were shining. Erik felt the urge to fall at her feet and ask her to marry him—just because of her radiance at that moment—but he remained calm and seated. She had discovered something, and it must be rather significant.

“So, what’s up?” he asked.

She handed him her universal device. There were a few graphics to be seen on the screen. “That’s the composition of the atmosphere,” she said.

Erik scanned the numbers. He found nothing unusual. So he was probably missing something.

Nuria kept scrolling forward. “You get these numbers if you just count all the atoms. But that isn’t important. I picked out the organic molecules and determined their distribution.”

He looked again at the graphic. There were many simple compounds composed of carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen. He had already seen data like this from Titan, one of Saturn’s moons. The molecules formed under the influence of sunlight in the upper atmosphere. They kept forming and then separating into their components, over and over again.

“You’re right, Erik, that’s nothing special. Such molecules are even to be found in interstellar space, sometimes in even larger quantities. I have to admit, I was disappointed.”

“But then you...” Erik said, because he was sure there was more.

Nuria smiled. “Then I stopped focusing on carbon, which was just distracting me. I studied other interesting elements. And can you guess where I struck the goldmine?”

Erik had a hunch, but he did not want to be a spoilsport, so he shook his head.

“With sulfur! Like carbon, sulfur forms long-chain molecules. However, they have no branches. The lack of branches is unfavorable to life. But when thinking in terms of primarily sulfur-based biochemistry, we should consider the possibility of other elements being present as well. These elements could enable branching.”

“That would be fantastic,” Erik said. “A completely different biochemistry!”

“It is fantastic. I used up eighteen of the nineteen samples to isolate the various sulfur-based molecules. But molecules alone are, of course, no proof. That’s why I did not open sample nineteen. I distributed its contents into two tubes. I irradiated only one of the tubes with yellow light—and only then did I count the molecules in the tubes.

“Believe it or not, there were fewer molecules in the illuminated sample than in the other one—and the illuminated sample contained long-chain molecules that were longer than in the other sample. This means that something in the illuminated sample absorbed energy and stored it in the transformed molecules, just like a plant.”

“You believe you’ve caught life in the act?”

“Yes, don’t you think so?”

“Yes, Nuria. We have to report this result to Earth.”

“Right now we’re in the radio shadow of Venus. We’ll only be able to reach Charles again in a few hours.”

“Then tell Ethan now exactly what you’ve found.”

“And then I’ll figure out what kind of life this is.”

June 9, 2079, Venus Base

Peter and Maria entered an elongated cave that was dimly lit with organic LEDs. Although the robots could orient themselves with ultrasound, it was apparently easier to do so with the help of optical sensors. Perhaps the LEDs had only been installed for humans’ sake. In the light of the LEDs the walls, ceilings, and floor looked wholly black.

The very back of the cave was used as a storage and sorting room. A robot was at that moment pouring rough diamonds into a container. Then the opening closed. Presumably, Venus’s atmosphere was being pumped out before the stones were analyzed. Only rough diamonds that could be processed into gemstones were worth the expensive trip to Earth.

Maria pulled him toward the airlock on the right side. She must have surmised that their quarters were there. Peter followed her. But when they stood in front of it, the airlock remained closed. No opening mechanism was visible. Peter was confused, but Maria seemed to have an idea regarding what to do. She pressed a few buttons on her suit.

“The doorbell is virtual,” she explained. “You have to peer through the visor, and then you will spot it.”

Shortly after that the door opened and they entered. The airlock closed automatically behind them. A whooshing sound told him that Venus’s air was being pumped out. The sound was at first loud, then decreased in intensity, because the air became too thin to conduct soundwaves. Maria took him by the arm and shook him—he’d zoned out and had not even realized that the inner door was open. They had arrived. This place would be their home for the next few weeks.

* * *

Peter looked around curiously. It was much brighter than in the entrance area. The ceiling and walls shone light gray, almost white.

“Look, over there!” Maria said, getting out of her suit. “That’s a huge number of nanoproducers!”

Peter looked in the direction that Maria was pointing and was surprised. Several RB robots were in a kind of dock. They were obviously built for work on the surface. If they were in the base, then it was only for being repaired.

“The nanofabricators don’t seem to work stably for long periods under Venusian conditions,” he said. “That’s why they needed this workshop cave with Earth-like pressure conditions. This was probably the first task the mining robots were assigned.”

“Where do we sleep?” Maria asked.

“There’s a narrow passage in the back,” Peter replied, who now longed for a bed after all they’d been through. They found a hygiene facility behind the corridor. RB had treated them to a toilet and a shower. To the left and right were cabins, each containing a thick mattress made of soft synthetic material with a thin blanket on top.

Peter was satisfied. That was all they needed at a room temperature of about 26 degrees. Maria, however, looked anything but happy. But she didn’t say anything. “Would you like to shower first?” he asked.

“Thanks,” she replied with a smile.

“If you don’t mind,” Peter said, who was still in his suit, “I’ll take a look at the wall.”

“I really don’t care either way right now.”

* * *

Peter walked to the other end of the base, where there was another, much smaller airlock. He entered it. The air-exchange time was short but felt like an eternity. He was finally able to leave the airlock. He found himself in darkness again. What was wrong? Why was it dark? He knocked on his helmet, then realized that the sensors were still looking for the optimal settings. A menu in the visor offered a variety of modes. Out of habit he chose the spectrum of visible light. Immediately several lamps turned on and provided optimal lighting.

The exposed area was not large. He estimated it to be 50 by 30 centimeters. The photo they had been shown of the exposed section of wall was an inferior reproduction of the artifact, but somehow the artifact had seemed much larger in the photo. Peter felt the wall with his fingers—in reality, the laser sensors in the outer skin of his gloves felt the section of wall.

No, the lines on the wall were not painted. Instead, they had been carved into the surface, but only a tenth of a millimeter deep. Nevertheless, it was surprising how visible they were. The robots had probably cleaned the wall. But how had the mining robots, which were meant for rough work, even noticed the wall?

Peter scratched the surface, but nothing happened. He then scratched the area next to the wall. This time he left a mark. Aha! He searched the wall and found a tiny hole that had been bored. The robots must have registered the sudden increase in material hardness and cautiously investigated it. Perhaps they had expected to find a new diamond deposit.

He took a couple of steps back and studied the little piece of exposed wall intently. Was this a script, or something ornamental? But wouldn’t an alien studying some of Earth’s languages think that their scripts were ornate designs rather than writing?

Peter sent the pictures to the computer. The result of the analysis was clear. The patterns showed more repetition than was evident from looking at the photos. He went through the results in detail. What was noticeable was that the lines differed in length, but had innumerable angles, each measuring about 108 degrees.

His fatigue gradually overpowered him. He could not do much here at this point. First, the robots needed to significantly increase the exposed area of the unusual wall surface. He would ask Marchenko to order that, and then get to bed.

June 10, 2079, Venusian Atmosphere

‘Life Discovered on Venus.’ Their CapCom, Barbara, had transmitted the headline of Earth’s most influential media outlets to them, and nearly all of them sounded similar. The story was a bit exaggerated—as was to be expected, and missing the questions that Nuria was still posing. NASA had held an online press conference the previous night concerning Nuria’s findings. For today another event was planned where Nuria would be on the air.

In reality, this meant that a recorded speech would be played, because a live conference with the Venus expedition was not possible due to the delay caused by signal transit time. Nuria protested at first, because she would rather devote her time to the research, but eventually she had to comply. She was currently working on a draft of her presentation.

“Commander to spaceship, please report.”

“Good morning, Chuck,” Ethan replied.

“You guys have caused quite a stir,” Charles said.

“As far as I’m concerned, they could have waited till our return,” Ethan said.

“I think someone feared that the Russians would release the story first,” Charles said.

“Well, they need not have exaggerated so much.”

“You might be right.”

“Because the findings have been made public, I am obliged by our agreement to give Tarasov details. He has promised interesting data if I send him Nuria’s results before they are published, which will be in a few weeks.”

“Well, you’re better at judging whether we need their information.”

“As commander, I’m responsible for the success of the expedition. For that, we need every piece of information we can get.”

“I see, Chuck. Well, then—”

“I don’t understand the science, though. Can’t Nuria talk to him?”

“You’re welcome to ask her, but I’d advise against it. She already has enough pent-up frustration, because she’s constantly being kept from doing her research,” Ethan said quietly.

“Erik?” Charles asked. “What about you?”

He crossed his arms. “If the information from Tarasov leads to a trip, then I’ll be the first to go outside, okay?”

“So be it,” Charles said.

“Okay, then, I’ll put something together for your friend Tarasov that will satisfy him.”

“Thanks, Erik.”

* * *

Nuria had collected an incredible amount of data. She must have worked straight through the last 24 hours. He envied her a bit. She was the first human being to have discovered existing life on another planet—as opposed to a moon—in the solar system. Although it was known since the ILSE’s long journey in the 1950s that the moons Enceladus, Titan, and Io were home to life, Venus, in particular, was considered to be a barren, blazing hell. They had been more hopeful of finding life on Mars, but that had proven to be a dud a long time ago.

Erik scanned the graphics that Nuria had created. One could say with a fair degree of certainty which elements made up life on Venus, certainly something that would interest Tarasov. Nuria had also drawn structural formulas of the more common molecules. But there was still a lot missing. Above all, they did not know the precise details of how life on Venus functioned.

Nuria’s proof was quantitative. She had shown that certain substances were transformed into others, transmuted in a fashion that suggested biology was at work here, not chemistry. But they still didn’t have images of the cells, and they had no idea how the cells were constructed and which of their components were responsible for which processes.

It was still possible that it was a big mistake, based on a series of coincidences, although Erik had to admit that the likelihood of it being multiple coincidences was very low. Still, it was brash, and unquestionably premature, for NASA to present everything as fact rather than speculation. It wouldn’t be the first time that a finding considered to be proven turned out to be erroneous.

He hoped Nuria would not fall into this trap. How could he warn her without her believing that he begrudged her this success? But she probably knew of the risk herself. Erik copied some of the graphics into a new document and commented on them in his own words. He provided Tarasov with enough information to receive an impression of Nuria’s findings, but not enough to steal her discovery—at least as long as the Russians didn’t also send someone to perform research in Venus’s clouds.

But they seemed to have set their sights on ground research. It was a strange decision, one that Erik could hardly believe. On the other hand, the RB Group would not bother to invest their money in such an expensive ship if it did not assume that the mission was well worth the expense.

Perhaps, he pondered, RB is not concerned with the search for life, but with something completely different?

June 10, 2079, Venusian Surface

“I’ve analyzed your data,” the AI reported, as Peter came out of the shower area.

“I’m listening,” he said with bated breath.

“It’s fascinating. Apparently, the lines form pentagons that repeat in different sizes and overlap each other. That was easy to miss in the small section. In the meantime, a larger area has been exposed. But the robots’ data point toward infinite repetition rather than new characters. Only the length of the lines and the size of the angles vary.”

“And what does that mean?” Marchenko had no doubt already sifted through all the possibilities.

“It is highly unlikely that these characters are an alphabet, unless someone carved the same letters over and over again, such as the name of a deity. But we should also consider two other possibilities.”

“I agree,” Maria said.

Peter turned to her. Maria must have just gotten up and overheard at least some of this.

“Maybe they lacked the ability to always carve exactly the same length and angle,” Marchenko said.

“And what if it’s something like a termite mound? What we have interpreted as carvings could then be the paths that the creatures traversed,” Maria suggested, the excitement evident in her tone of voice.

“That is a possibility, but not very likely, given the pattern. We will not know what it is until we find a beginning or an end. Or until we discover an opening or open the wall ourselves.”

“Let’s first look for the beginning and the end,” Maria said.

“That may take us a long time,” Peter argued.

“Maria is right, though,” Marchenko said. “Before we open something, we need to know what to expect. And if it was formed by a natural process, we have to be extra careful.”

“Exactly,” Katarina said.

Peter looked at her in surprise. Why does she place such importance on this? “Why do you say that?” he asked.

“I’m responsible for your safety. There must be no contamination. But first you need to eat something. I have prepared breakfast for you.”

Peter laughed. “A meal comes before science. But I don’t believe that we’re in danger. The temperatures that prevail here would kill all life.”

* * *

Peter and Maria were seated at the breakfast table a short time later. Katarina had gone out of her way to make a tasty meal. She had programmed a bunch of nanofabricators to produce the most delicious dishes possible. If Peter had not known that it was artificial food, he would have thought it was made from fresh ingredients.

“Tell me, Marchenko,” Maria asked with her mouth full. “How long will the robots need for the excavation?”

“It’s hard to say. Shostakovich gave me three robots. One digs, another one brings the excavated rock to the canal, and the third distributes it on the surface.”

“So we have a few hours?”

“I think so, Maria. What are you planning?”

“I’d like to explore the area with Peter.”

Peter nodded. It was comfortable down here, but due to the lack of space, he felt as if he was being crushed. They had spent time in several small enclosed spaces, first in the RB bunker, then in the spaceship, and now in the base. It would be wonderful to finally see the sky again.

He hurriedly ate his breakfast. “Katarina, are you coming with us?” he asked.

“I have a lot of things to organize, so I will stay here. We will keep in touch via radio.”

* * *

“Taking such a stroll on Venus is something special,” Maria said, hooking the arm of her suit into Peter’s.

“Yes. Note that it offers plenty of hard-to-calculate risks.”

“Peter as I know and appreciate him,” she said, giggling. “Always optimistic, and through and through a romantic.”

They climbed the lava mountain above the base station. The surface was even. Now and then a floe had caved in.

“If only the light wasn’t always so dim!” Maria said wistfully.

“Wait.” Peter switched his visor from the optical to the radar mode. Now he could see his surroundings in the terrestrial spectrum. The mountains were suddenly beautiful. “Use the radar mode,” he said.

Maria pressed a few buttons on her suit and then turned around once. “Wow,” she said. “There’s even snow back there on Maxwell Montes!”

“Those are sulfide deposits.”

She boxed his side. “Hey, I know that.”

“Let’s search for remnants of the wall here on the surface,” Peter said as he pulled a long pole out of his bag and attached a hydraulic impactor to its end.

“What is that?” Maria asked.

“This allows us to measure the soil hardness. The wall should be clearly differentiated from the rest of the ground if it reaches to the surface. But first we have to find the wall.”

“Unfortunately somebody’s in our way,” Maria said, pointing at an RB robot. The machine was distributing excavated rubble onto the surface.

“Dammit, it’s covering the ground we want to inspect!”

Peter ran with big leaps toward the robot. He heard Maria scream, “No,” and then everything went dark.

“Peter?”

He opened his eyes and oriented himself. Slowly, he tried to get up. There was a stabbing pain in his back, but he was able to straighten up. Apparently he had fallen into a cavern.

“Peter?”

“I’m okay—just a few bruises. Don’t come any closer, though. The cavern seems to be quite large.”

“Marchenko to the outside team. What the hell are you doing out there? We have a crack in the base’s ceiling, and the pressure is slowly rising.”

“Peter broke through the surface and fell into an old lava bubble. Peter, how far down are you?”

“A good five meters, but the cavern is larger than that,” he replied.

“Is your suit undamaged?” Marchenko asked.

“Just a few scratches. It hasn’t reported a critical error.”

“Good,” Marchenko said. “We’ll get you out of there. But I need the exact size of the bubble. I don’t want the robots causing the ceiling to collapse. Due to the collapse, a crack formed in the base. Once you’re on the surface again, we’ll have to seal the chamber you fell into.”

Peter was sweating. If only he could wipe his brow! He hoped that the base was not also in danger. He measured the cave’s dimensions and sent the data to Marchenko.

“You can relax,” replied the AI. “You were just unlucky. The surrounding area is much more stable.”

“Thank you, Marchenko. But how do I get back to the surface? I can’t just climb up, as the edges of the hole are almost certainly unstable.”

“Wait,” Maria said.

“And what about the base?” Peter asked via radio.

“The pumps are managing to keep the pressure stable. However, the leak should not get any bigger. In addition, the oxygen content is sinking noticeably.”

“Will we be able to fix that?”

“Of course, it will just take a while,” Marchenko said.

In the beam of his helmet lamp, he saw a rope end appearing from above.

“Is that enough?” Maria asked.

“If I climb up on that, I’ll just cause more rock to fall and make the hole wider,” he said.

“You’re not supposed to simply climb up. My idea is that we first use the rope to get rid of the unstable parts at the edge of the hole by scraping the rope against it sort of like a nail file.”

That’s a good idea. “Give me another meter,” he said. “Then I can stand on the end.”

When the plastic rope had been extended far enough, Peter pulled it tight and put first one, and then carefully his second foot on it. In this fashion he worked his way toward where Maria held the upper part of the rope. His weight tore material from the edge of the ceiling opening, first a substantial amount, then less and less. Only a few smaller chunks hit him.

“Step back!” Maria cried.

He jumped backward in a flash. Only then did he recognize the danger. On the ceiling a crack had formed, and it was growing in slow motion. In 30 seconds a large slab would plunge into the depths. Dammit! How will the ceiling of the base station react to the shock?

He resolutely reached for the rope and ran under the endangered spot to the other side of the bubble. “Marchenko, look through my helmet camera,” he radioed. “I need to know where the optimal position is for me to stand so I can catch the falling slab with the rope.”

“I don’t know the mass distribution of the slab, but I can estimate the data and let your exoskeleton make the necessary movements. You don’t need to do anything.”

“Okay.”

The slab of rock detached, and his body in the exoskeleton moved back and forth without his intervention. The massive rock glided elegantly downward along the rope, but shortly before it got to the end it slid off the rope. Peter felt the shock. “Dammit! Is the base okay?” he asked.

“Everything went well. I had to drop the lava slab at the end. Otherwise it would have hit you.”

“Thank you, Marchenko.”

He should have thought of that himself! The oversight could have cost him his life! Just as he took a deep breath he heard a crack. “What is that?”

“Relax,” said Marchenko, who was monitoring his heartbeat. “The edge of the hole is stable now, so you can climb out.”

He reached for the rope and climbed up the cave wall to the redemptive exit. Although the exoskeleton was helping him, his back hurt, and his knee also seemed to have been injured. As soon as he reached the surface, Peter had to sit down. One robot pulled the rope out of the hole, and another one sprayed glue onto the edge of the opening.

* * *

“Good news,” Marchenko reported. “The crack has been sealed, and we are beginning to restore the atmosphere. You just had the bad luck to fall into a lava tube below the surface.”

“The robot responsible for removing the waste material should distribute all that material far away from the wall,” Peter said. “And it should also take the opportunity to search for traces of the wall on the surface.”

“A good idea, Peter. But first, the two of you need to return. We have to examine your suit, or we could have another emergency on our hands.”

* * *

“Where’s the crack?” Peter asked. Together with Maria, he was just leaving the airlock. The position appeared as a blinking dot on his helmet visor display. “Thank you, Marchenko,” he said as he walked toward the spot.

There was nothing to see. Only when he zoomed in with the optical sensors did he spot the small crack on the ceiling, which was now filled with glue. It was not even ten centimeters long, and yet it had been a deadly threat to the base. It was created by the shock that occurred when the cave ceiling collapsed under Peter.

“I’ve already cleaned up the sediment that was pushed through the crack,” reported the household robot. “But you’ll need to remain in your suits for a while, until the room conditions are optimal for humans again.”

“Peter, you should go to the room where the nanofabricators are to get your suit fixed,” the AI said.

Peter followed Marchenko’s advice and lay down on the sloping treatment and repair panel. The nanofabricators began their work, analyzing the damage to his suit. They then started the process of repairing it. At the same time, the inner suit adapted to the new position of his body and heated the sore spots.

Peter’s back and knee pain decreased significantly at once. He fell asleep.

* * *

Hours later, Peter woke up. Wonderful! His back felt almost normal again! He hastily took off the suit. A warm shower—that would be perfect now. He made his way to the hygiene facility.

* * *

“What’s the latest update, Marchenko?” he asked after showering.

“You were right. The wall reaches to the surface. I’ve asked the robot to dig into the depths, and the structure is still there, even 25 meters down.”

Maria looked up from her screen. “We should first let the robot finish its work,” she suggested. “We can examine the wall on the surface.”

“Fine, but let me first quickly have something to eat and drink,” Peter said.

“You must both be patient. Peter’s suit is damaged. The exoskeleton is misaligned and slightly bent in two places. Katarina will repair it.”

“Where’s the fourth suit?” Peter asked.

“We left it in the transporter, which is currently on its way into orbit,” Marchenko said.

“Then I’ll take Katarina’s.”

“That’s not a good idea, because then nobody can help you in an emergency,” Marchenko said.

“We should remain here for a while and take a closer look at the results obtained from the sample the robot took from the wall,” Maria said. “I have the feeling that the sample is more interesting than I’d previously assumed.”

June 11, 2079, Venusian Atmosphere

Erik was developing cabin fever. He was aching to be allowed outside, but that still had not been approved by CapCom. The NASA scientists were supposedly looking for a strategy—trying to agree on one, he surmised. They wanted to be able to conclusively find life in the clouds. In the meantime the crew was to remain here, inactive. But they were just wasting valuable time! After all, their expedition was limited to one month. Wouldn’t it make sense to get some new samples? he wondered.

Erik got up and walked through the cabin. Nuria was sleeping, because Charles had ordered her to get some rest. She had been lying there for 10 hours with her eyes closed. She moved so little that one might think she was dead. Erik had to convince himself—twice—that she was still breathing.

“We’re getting a message from Tarasov,” Ethan whispered.

Finally something is happening! Erik pointed at the screen attached to his chair. He placed himself in front of it and opened the message that Ethan had relayed to him. The Russian scientist had kept his word. What he wrote, however, sounded incredible. The RB expedition was allegedly extracting raw materials. The group did not even have a mining license for Venus—nobody had such a license, because Venus was a protected zone. And what resources could this planet have, which could not be obtained with far less effort on Earth or an asteroid?

Unfortunately, Tarasov refused to be more explicit in his message. He would otherwise get into lots of trouble, he wrote. Thus, the mission really must have been approved by the highest authorities and must be of the utmost importance. Maybe it was about an exotic material not found anywhere else, formed by the hellish conditions on Venus’s surface. However, it was not hot enough on the planet to expect unusual chemical reactions.

It’s no use, Erik thought. He would have to do his own looking. Perhaps he would manage to add the missing pieces of the puzzle to Tarasov’s remarks? They had already automatically mapped Venus’s surface in high resolution in the past few days.

He would search for the Russian base in the pictures. Then he would at least have something to do.

June 11, 2079, Venusian Surface

Self-similar structures, sulfur-based quasicrystals. Peter’s mind was racing as he walked with Maria to the end of the wall. He had heard of such materials on Earth, but not based on sulfur. Why had someone built such a massive structure made out of that particular substance, of all things?

“And what if it isn’t an artificial structure?” Maria asked.

Peter shrugged. “Do you think it could be life? I don’t know. You can’t rule out the possibility, especially since NASA has found life in the clouds.”

“Do you think Valentina is annoyed by the hype surrounding the NASA expedition, given that RB has achieved far more on Venus?”

“I don’t think she is. But she might be worried that soon more expeditions to Venus will be launched, which could uncover the true nature of RB’s activities here. Maybe that’s why we flew here so quickly, so that RB could continue to pretend that their goal is scientific research?”

“Then she merely used us. I wouldn’t put it past her!”

They reached the end of the wall. With precision, the robot had uncovered at least 10 meters of wall on either side of the initial exposure. It looked like it was constructed as opposed to naturally formed. Peter measured its thickness. It varied between 18 and 21 centimeters.

“Look at the surface,” Maria said. “The carved lines are all gone. The robot must have worked too energetically on unearthing the wall.”

“Maybe there never were any of the carvings up here.”

With a chisel, Peter exposed the material below the track of the robot until he nearly reached the wall. “You’re right. The robot has milled off the carvings. I’ll have to re-measure the wall thickness later.” He cleared the remains of the waste material with a blower.

“That’s strange!” Maria said. She pointed first to the left, then to the right.

Peter turned off the blower. “You mean I blew more material away on one side than on the other?” he asked.

Maria nodded.

“I must have performed the task imprecisely.”

“Just measure the hardness!” she ordered.

He directed the measuring instrument toward the area in front of the wall and toward the wall itself, and read the values while Maria looked over his shoulder. The deposits on one side of the wall were harder than on the other. The material inside the wall itself was the hardest.

“Hmm,” he said. “We should take another sample.”

“I’m already doing that. Any idea what this means?”

“No. If we’re standing on the ceiling of a building, it should not be softer than the walls.”

Maria scraped off material from the wall and filled a metal tube, which she stowed in her belt. Peter watched her and had to smile in spite of himself. At that moment he was very attracted to Maria. It was a good thing that she could not see his face. By now, he liked her a lot.

Peter forced himself to stop thinking about her and started the blower. Meter by meter, he exposed the wall. “This is where the wall bends,” he pointed out.

Maria unpacked the laser protractor. “One hundred seven point eight degrees,” she said.

“Yes, the internal angle of a regular pentagon.”

“But not precisely. It should be a hundred and eight degrees.”

“Well, buildings aren’t very precisely constructed, Maria. Would you please take over from me and use the blower?”

Maria took the device from him and continued the task.

“Too bad we don’t have a second blower,” he said. “Otherwise I would expose a line perpendicular to the wall. Maybe there are differences in hardness there, too.”

“Let’s first find out how long the wall is up to the next corner. I bet we’ll find a regular pentagon. And we can easily determine its side length up here.”

* * *

“One hundred and twenty-five meters!” Peter exclaimed.

Maria had reached the next corner with the blower. “Don’t yell like that! I can hear you over the radio,” she replied.

“Sorry. I’ll come to where you are.”

They met in the middle. There, Peter programmed his helmet visor to show him a line perpendicular to the wall and followed the arrow with the blower. He directed the airflow toward the ground. The further he moved away from the wall, the more material he stirred up. The ground was thus getting softer and softer.

“This is as far as I go,” he finally said. “If we were to break in or sink in here, nobody would be able to help us.”

“I agree that we should not take any chances,” Maria replied. “Right now, there’s not much more to be seen up here. Let’s take a break in the base. I’m not feeling well.”

June 12, 2079, Venusian Atmosphere

Venus’s surface slowly moved past below him. Erik already had hip pain from sitting around for so long, so he was lying on his belly across the bed. He had put his tablet on the floor next to the head of his resting place so that he could see it comfortably and scroll with his fingers.

He had first thought he should search the radar images. It must be possible to find signs of the Russian landing capsule, or perhaps even a base. But Nuria had immediately convinced him otherwise. The radar image was problematic due to the dense cloud cover they were sailing through. And of course, she was right. He should have thought of that himself.

But luckily, there were alternatives. The upper soil layers emitted both gamma radiation and low energy neutrons that could be measured with spectrometers, providing him the added advantage of being able to peer a bit into Venus’s interior. The gamma radiation came from the top 10 centimeters, the neutrons from the top 40. If the Russians had built an underground base, he might be able to trace them using these measurements—assuming that the resolution of the two spectrometers was sufficient. Digging up the soil changed its radiation signature.

The amount of data they had collected in the meantime, after circling Venus nearly three times, was extensive. The data had only been gathered within a range of 20 degrees on either side of the equator, but that was, after all, where the Russians had landed. Erik had already gone through the recordings at low resolution without finding any sign of the Russians. But it was impressive to see how well gamma spectrometry worked. It was based, among other things, on radiation emitted by natural radioactive decay.

The outermost-layer concentration of elements such as uranium or thorium should have decreased after Venus had been around a few billion years. But, unlike on Earth, this was not the case. The surface of Venus, as furrowed as it looked, was still unusually young, and only volcanic activity could be responsible for that. Erik could see Venus’s surface shining with a particular intensity in the gamma spectrum, especially near the giant shield volcanoes.

In the second go-round, he wanted to increase the resolution tenfold. That means that he would need ten times the amount of time. He thus decided to ignore the very bright areas surrounding the volcanoes, because the fresh deposits there probably obscured the patterns he was looking for.

On the one hand, he was looking for signs of the Russian crew, who certainly hadn’t land on an active volcano. On the other hand, it would be great to find clues to a fertile past on the planet.

The question that Nuria could not answer was: Had life in the clouds arisen there, or had it just retired to the clouds billions of years ago when it became too hot on the ground? In that case, traces of Venus’s former climate should be visible—river systems, ancient oceans, or even glacial moraine deposits. If he could prove that, it would perfectly complement Nuria’s discoveries.

Patiently, Erik scrolled through page after page. Moving westward, he circled the planet once. He then shifted southward by one degree and circled the planet again. However, as soon as the measured intensity rose above a set value, the software automatically skipped that area. Erik was thus able to avoid wasting time on the volcanic regions.

* * *

Even so, the second go-round alone lasted just under four hours. Afterward, Erik stood up and got something to eat. He took a drink, shook his limbs to stretch them, and began with the third survey, tripling the resolution this time. He would not be able to complete this task today.

It did not take him long to notice a structure that could be a crater. It was about ten kilometers in diameter and had no central elevation. That meant that either the crater was old or it was not a crater, but some other type of terrain.

Erik increased the resolution and inspected the edges more closely. The crater was radially symmetrical. The meteorite that caused it would have had to fall vertically from above onto the ground. But that was very unlikely. One of the edges seemed to have been broken by something—was it perhaps an outlet? Had he discovered a prehistoric lake? He could hardly believe that he had succeeded so quickly.

It would be a good idea to ask his colleague. “Can I interrupt you for a moment, Nuria?”

“If you have to.” She was smiling, so she did not seem to be angry.

Erik got up, picked up the tablet, and carried it to her. “This could be a prehistoric lake.”

“You mean that’s the outlet?” Nuria pointed to the spot he had also noticed.

He nodded.

“I’m sorry. You probably misinterpreted the gamma intensity,” she said.

What did Nuria mean? He looked at the image. Then he remembered. It was a novice’s mistake. Where the picture was darker than the surroundings, he suspected a depression that lay deeper. But here, the opposite was true. At this spot, fresh material was covering the normal subsoil, making the image appear darker. This was not a drain, but a kind of elongated mountain.

“Thank you, Nuria,” he said. “How very embarrassing.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Nuria said as she placed an arm on his shoulder.

Oh well, that didn’t turn out to be anything interesting, he thought. Well, it was too good to be true, anyway. He lay down on the bed again and continued to gaze at the tablet as the software guided him around the glowing planet.

Wait. Erik tapped the screen to stop the flow of images. Then he jumped back to the strange crater from earlier. He now knew that what he thought was a depression was an elevated area. He superimposed the measurements of the neutron spectrometer onto the image. What this device measured had nothing to do with volcanic activity. The neutrons it detected were created purely by the interaction of cosmic radiation with the surface.

Due to Venus’s dense atmosphere, not much cosmic radiation reached the ground, but the elevation visible in the gamma image still stood out. That meant it did not have a volcanic origin like almost all other types of terrain on Venus. The elevated area must be relatively narrow and formed what was mostly a straight line. Earth’s Great Wall of China would probably produce a similar image. But surely nobody had built a wall here—after all, who could have built it?

Erik followed the course of the structure. The line divided after a few hundred meters. It split into two branches with a 90-degree angle between them. Afterward it consisted of two lines. No, he was wrong once again. It was not a right angle—it must be well over 100 degrees, probably almost 110 degrees. He followed the upper line, which divided again after several hundred meters. Erik compared the lengths of the line sections, which seemed to be identical. Also, the angle where the lines split was, as previously, about 110 degrees. This was getting exciting!

The line, which he now followed with his gaze, suddenly stopped. He kept looking in the same direction—and the line reappeared. Something seemed to have interrupted it. Maybe it was already partially eroded? Again, the line split into two. This time, Erik measured the angle more accurately. It was exactly 108 degrees. Multiplied by five, that was 540 degrees—the sum of the internal angles of a pentagon. What on Earth had he found here? His palms became moist. Was it possible that the surface of Venus was covered by structures that looked like pentagons from above? And why had nobody noticed that before him?

He answered his own question—so far, no one had taken measurements on Venus in this fashion. The lines he considered to be walls were no doubt not visible in the optical spectrum. Perhaps the quasicrystalline ‘honeycombs’ that they formed had long since been filled in with sand or lava during the relatively more recent history of the planet, and were only visible if one analyzed the composition of the surface?

Wait! He must not be wrong again. This could also be an effect that arose during the measurement itself. He had to take a closer look at the values. Perhaps combining data from different areas caused spurious effects at the edges. Erik studied the algorithm responsible for combining the data. No, it was analyzing the surface in rectangular sections. If the algorithm were to blame for the structures, they would not have the pentagonal shapes—they would be rectangular.

Good, so that can be ruled out, he thought, realizing he was on the trail of something. Erik followed the lines until they encountered a volcano, which was where the structures ended. The volcano must have come into being after the structures, and therefore the honeycomb-forming walls must be at least 500 million years old, the age of this volcano according to the astronomers’ calculations, based on its expansion. The volcano was still active, as evidenced by the high level of activity in the gamma spectrum.

“Nuria?”

“Yes?”

Erik got up and stooped to retrieve the tablet. “I’d like to show you something,” he said, letting the software highlight the lines to make them stand out.

Nuria sighed. “Okay, show me what you have.”

He gave her the tablet.

She looked, raised her eyebrows, and cleared the highlighting. She then raised her eyebrows higher. “This is incredible!” she said. “Ethan, come here. You have to see this!”

The pilot joined them, and Nuria handed him the tablet with Erik’s work. Ethan scratched his forehead. “That’s really strange. Why didn’t we notice this earlier?”

“The honeycombs are only visible in the gamma spectrum,” Erik answered, “not on the radar. I was bored—otherwise, the astronomers would not have looked at this data until after we returned.”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with the Russians, does it?” Ethan asked.

“Impossible,” Erik said. “There were no Russians five-hundred million years ago.”

“I see. And they cannot have manipulated our data?”

“No, Ethan. To do that, they would have had to scatter radioactive material on Venus over a large area. We would have seen that.”

“Then there’s only one conclusion,” Ethan said.

“And that would be?” Erik asked, although he had an inkling of what the pilot was going to say.

“You need to view this up close,” Ethan said.

“You mean, we should go down there?” Nuria asked. She looked anything but enthusiastic.

“I was hoping you would say that,” Erik said. “Nuria, you can stay up here. I’ll manage on my own.” She mustn’t dare to spoil this for him with some security concerns! He wouldn’t put it past the people at NASA to agree with her. Don’t you dare, Nuria, he thought.

“It’s out of the question for me to let you go alone,” she said. “We could lose you if I don’t go along to hold your hand.”

June 12, 2079, Venus Base

Maria had been sleeping for 14 hours now! Was that normal? Had the stress of the last weeks been too much for her? “Katarina, can you check on Maria again, please?”

“Don’t panic, Peter. All her values are fine. I haven’t found anything that would give cause for alarm.”

“And the sleep rhythms? You said they looked strange four hours ago.”

“Yes, but I have no reference values for such a long duration of sleep under these conditions. Your biorhythms are in complete disarray, after all. What’s with the samples on the table?”

“Maria can evaluate them. She started doing so, and I do not want to appropriate her task.”

“Well, then, why don’t you also lie down?”

Peter shook his head. He was tired, but he was too worried about Maria to fall asleep now. “I’ll take another look at the wall. Maybe the robots have uncovered something exciting.”

* * *

Peter exited the airlock. The robots had dug a sloping plane into the rock, making it easier for them to get rid of waste material. The path was three meters high and ran close to the intact wall. A few remnants still stuck to it that he could clean off with the high-pressure blower. He slowly cleaned the first piece of wall until the surface he had blown clean appeared large enough to him.

“Analyze lines,” he ordered.

‘Fitting error found’ appeared on the display.

“Show fitting error.”

Peter saw a red line superimposed on the original image. He stepped back a bit so that the spot was at eye level. Hmmm, an interface between two pentagons is noticeable here. The gap was closed, but not perfectly. Either the builders had not worked accurately here, or... He couldn’t think of any other explanation. Bungled construction—that was the obvious explanation.

“Marchenko? Look what I unearthed here with the blower.”

“Interesting. It looks like it’s grown.”

“You mean a piece has been glued on, right?”

“No, I mean, really grown!” Marchenko announced.

“I can’t believe that,” Peter said. He remembered that Maria spoke of life yesterday. But it all sounded so improbable!

“Then keep looking. We can’t base a new theory on just a single anomaly.”

Peter used the blower to uncover a 50-centimeter-wide strip on the wall along the inclined plane and asked the computer to analyze the carvings.

‘Fitting error found!’ the software reported. This time he found the flaw without the help of the computer. “Here’s the next error,” he said over the radio.

“At what distance from the first?”

“Wait a minute. About four point two meters,” he finally said. “I can’t measure it more precisely with the tools I have at my disposal.”

“I see. I’ve already compared both fitting errors,” Marchenko said. “They are similar, but clearly not the same, which reduces the probability that this was an artificial construction.”

“Dmitri, have you ever seen a Russian carpenter at work?”

“Why?”

“They never make the same mistake again, but always new ones.”

“But the wall cannot have been built by Russians. We’re the first Russians to arrive here, after all.”

June 13, 2079, Venusian Surface

At last, at last, at last! Erik stood at the edge of the cabin roof and looked down. The descent was not a piece of cake, but as long as he was in his artificial body, he wasn’t afraid. Only the tingling sensation in his spine remained when he looked down. Luckily, the clouds were so dense that it looked as if he would have a soft landing.

This time he did not need the line he used when he collected the samples. It would undoubtedly not have been long enough, and it probably would not be able to cope with the biggest problem of descent. They had to slow down from their current speed to zero before stepping onto the surface. The jetpacks built into the AVs could cope with this, but they, too, would be close to reaching their limits.

“Are you ready?” Nuria asked. She stood next to him.

He gave her the okay sign with his right hand.

“All right then, let’s go,” she said, and jumped immediately.

Erik swayed for a moment, then got to his knees and jumped after her. He pulled his body into a face-down position. He could thus better control his flight—or should he call it a plunge? Nuria had already disappeared into the dense clouds.

Erik had asked the computer to display the altitude in his field of vision. He did not have an infinite amount of time. The computer had calculated a flight parabola for them that would enable them to reach the structures he had spotted. From the point of view of their destination, they had just jumped out of a moving plane—the lower their altitude, the slower the speed of the cloud layer that was carrying them along. The computer model that simulated their plunge used values as input that Erik himself had measured while hanging from the rope. But further below, the model depended on estimates.

If they ended up a far distance off, they could either walk—or manage with the jetpacks. However, they would need them again for the ascent so they must be economical with fuel.

“Is everything all right?” Erik asked.

It felt strange, because Nuria was beside him right now, answering in her own voice.

“Everything’s fine. I’m on course,” she said.

“Guys, please abide by the rules. Short channel only in case of emergency. Otherwise it’ll throw you out of the system,” Ethan warned.

His voice reached him via the short channel—that was for normal conversation. But the awareness that you were not in the AV, but in the spaceship, could ruin your focus on being one with the machine. Erik had often talked to Nuria directly like this, but he knew that Ethan was right. Too much depended upon this excursion. If he lost the AV, this would be his last assignment at NASA.

Erik oriented himself. If the computer simulation was right, he just needed to drift most of the time. He was now five kilometers below the spaceship. Visibility was still poor, but his speed had already decreased by a few kilometers per hour. The cloud cover would soon open up, and that was when it would become fascinating. Wasn’t that Nuria in front of him? He thought he recognized the flashing red position-lights on her feet.

“I can see you,” his AV said via radio. The voice synthesis sounded amazingly real. Sometimes Erik wondered when humanity would be replaced with these AVs.

“That can’t be right,” Ethan said. “Nuria is right under you, perhaps 40 meters away.”

Then what had he seen? Suddenly the whole world appeared dark red. The phenomenon went away in a split second. Now his surroundings were turning gray. Then the flashing red returned, for just half a second again, no longer.

There was crackling on the radio channel. “I register discharges,” Ethan said.

“It must have been some kind of lightning,” Erik posited. “The cloud cell discharged.”

“At last we can see these flashes up close,” Ethan replied. “Up till now I only saw them on satellite photos of the night side.”

“It’s always been clear that they have to exist on the day side as well,” Nuria said.

“But it didn’t look like the classic form of lightning,” Erik said. “More like heat lightning.”

“Maybe a collective stimulation of the molecules here,” Nuria said.

“Or the dense fog covered the spark canal,” Ethan said.

“It certainly looked beautiful,” Erik said.

“You old romantic,” Nuria said. “You’d better pay attention to your trajectory. You’re pretty much breathing down my neck.”

Erik checked his altitude. Nuria was only five meters below him. Local differences in density seemed to play a significant role here. They mustn’t forget that this was a dynamic system.

“I don’t see any problem due to that yet,” Ethan said. “If the simulation is correct, you will soon be pulled backward, Nuria.”

“Thank you. I’m excited,” she said.

Now the cloud cover opened up. Erik could see Nuria’s AV directly below him. And there was the grayish-brown Venusian surface. He still couldn’t recognize any details. But Venus seemed to be glowing of its own accord, or was that an optical illusion?

“Do you see the glow, too?” he asked.

“I can see you’ve activated your infrared sensors.”

Of course! Erik wanted to slap his forehead, but that would change his trajectory. He studied the information from the thermal imaging camera, translated into the red spectrum for the benefit of his human senses. Where Venus’s surface glowed dark red, the temperature was 460 degrees. Where it was bright red, it was even hotter, probably due to volcanic activity.

“Wheeee!” Nuria cried.

He looked down. She was gone. Then he felt it, too, the force that pulled him backward. He must have just crossed a layer boundary. Here, the atmosphere was moving significantly slower. His excess speed was bled off by the atmosphere, which was increasing in density with every second.

“Looks good,” Ethan said. “So far I’ve only seen slight deviations from the simulation. If this continues, you’ll be on the ground in a few minutes.”

Erik checked the AV’s systems. The exterior of his body had warmed up. But the high temperature of 260 degrees had not yet been able to heat the interior. The insulation withstood a lot. The computing core in the abdomen was cooled using several redundant systems. The joints were the most vulnerable, but even they should be able to deal with an outside temperature of up to 800 degrees without encountering any problems. Of course, he must not fall into a magma lake, but their destination was far enough away from all the active volcanoes near the equator.

Just then a few flakes whirled through his field of vision. What was that? There couldn’t be any snow in this heat. Erik pulled his arm toward his body and inspected where a flake had settled. He watched as it dissolved into thin air. This must be elemental sulfur! The clouds consisted partially of drops of sulfuric acid. Apparently, reactions took place that caused sulfur to precipitate.

But at these temperatures? Of course! He would have to say goodbye to his earthbound ways of thinking, and to the phase diagrams that applied to normal conditions on Earth. Here active chemistry took place in an energetic glowing hell. He was floating through an enormous laboratory. For chemists, this would be a true paradise! Erik tried a few times to take samples of the flakes, but he didn’t succeed. Perhaps later on he could justify a second trip with the intent to take samples of the flakes. They would still spend some time up here until they needed to fly back.

“Erik, are you daydreaming?” Nuria asked.

Instead of being behind him, she was now far ahead and above him. This time he recognized her position lights. “Sorry,” he said.

He had forgotten that the time was now approaching for them to slow down their plunge. After all, they did not want to hit Venus’s surface at high speed. But there was a range of time during which he could slow down. If he started later, he just needed to increase the thrusting force of the jetpack a bit. He turned to a vertical position and switched on the jetpack. He slowed down immediately.

Half a minute, that should be enough. And it was—he was once again floating next to Nuria. Without the clouds, which were no longer floating past them, their speed was no longer noticeable. The ground was still too far away, and there was no sound. Erik wondered why. He turned on the exterior microphone, which transmitted a high, whistling sound to his sense of hearing. He then clapped his hands. This, too, sounded a bit higher-pitched than usual.

“What game are you playing now?” Nuria asked. She spread her arms and turned back onto her stomach.

He followed her example. “I was not playing. I was experimenting.”

“Oh, really.”

“I was investigating the influence of medium and temperature on the speed of sound.”

“Great.”

Erik did not like the disdainful tone she sometimes used.

“You’re quite lucky,” Ethan said. “The computer gave us almost perfect values.”

Erik ordered his computer to display the forecast in his field of vision. Yes, they would only have to walk three kilometers to the designated destination.

“Looks good,” Nuria said.

Erik superimposed their landing coordinates onto his spectrometer images. They were even luckier, because one of the strange lines was no more than a hundred meters away. He sent the composite picture to the others.

“Oh, looks even better,” Nuria said in praise.

Erik moved back to the vertical position. Their destination was not far away. In the meantime, the volcano to their east towered above them. They were still flying toward it, but they wouldn’t reach it. It was becoming more and more obvious that their descent was, in fact, a free fall. Erik ascertained the steps he needed to take. He would have to brake soon. Three, two, one—and the jetpack ignited.

Nuria was not yet initiating the braking procedure. She disappeared below him because he was slowing down. “Nuria? What’s wrong?”

“I... this piece of crap isn’t starting.”

Erik didn’t hesitate. He turned on his head and accelerated, quickly catching up to Nuria. “Wait,” he said, hooking his tool belt onto her. He then slowed down. His suit’s jetpack easily held both of them aloft.

“Thanks,” Nuria said.

“Don’t mention it. Good thing that there are two of us.”

“Yes, for a short while I was afraid I would lose the AV.”

“That would not have been your fault.”

“You know how it is. In the end, they would have proved that I made maintenance errors. They would have said the jetpack could not possibly have failed of its own accord.” Nuria pushed a few buttons on her belt. “Look, now it’s working again,” she said.

“All the better,” Erik replied. “After all, I’m not sure if we would have managed to bring both AVs up to the clouds with just one jetpack.”

“I don’t want to think about it,” Nuria said.

“You two had better prepare yourself for landing,” Ethan announced.

“Sure, boss,” Nuria replied.

Erik unlatched his belt from hers again. He moved away from Nuria with a few swimming motions. The ground was now approaching rapidly. The terrain seemed to be quite level, as he did not detect any larger rocks. Erik put the AV into landing mode. The heavy machine itself now decided how hard the jetpacks needed to thrust, so that it could land softly.

Erik touched down on Venus with his legs wide apart. Nuria fell a few meters away, her AV swaying a bit. Her jetpack was still not functioning optimally. They would need to take care of that later.

“I landed first,” Nuria cried.

But you landed after me. Erik laughed. It didn’t matter to him. After all, neither of them could claim to have set foot on the planet, as their bodies were up in the spaceship. The Russians must have earned this honor anyway, unless there had only been robots aboard the landing capsule. But the Russians didn’t seem to care about claiming this honor. Why not—what’s the real reason? he wondered.

Erik shrugged. They were here because of the strange structures. He displayed the map in his field of vision. “Nuria, we have to go in that direction, toward the volcano. Maybe eighty meters.”

“I’m coming,” she said.

Erik looked at the ground. Nothing but dust everywhere, he thought. It was hard and covered by a thin layer of dust. Under these extreme conditions, the dust evidently baked very quickly to form regolith. But due to erosion, the extreme climate constantly added a fresh layer of dust on top of the hardened dust. It was an eternal dust cycle—dust was probably the water of Venus.

Erik corrected the colors to Earth’s standard. Under the blue sky of home, the ground would look gray. Here, it appeared brown. The clouds created a gloomy atmosphere, laying like a solid blanket over the sky as if someone had wrapped Venus in gray sheets. The sun was a seemingly immobile, bright spot to which no color could be assigned. It was a good thing that they had a ship in orbit and a spaceship in the clouds. Navigation would otherwise be challenging down here, because Venus didn’t even have a significant magnetic field that they could use to orient themselves. On Mars, you could at least use the sky for orientation.

* * *

“Looks pretty disappointing,” Nuria said.

Erik checked their position. One of the structures should be underneath them, but there was nothing to see from above. He took the tip of a hoe out of the toolbox and screwed it onto his arm. Then he dug into the soil with the tool. The dirt sprayed out on all sides.

“The ground is soft here,” he commented. “Did you notice that?”

He hacked a bit more on the ground, moving northward. Suddenly, the metal of the hoe met something hard, which caused it to bounce back. “Hah!” he said, “here it is.”

Nuria joined him. She took out her hoe, too, and helped him to expose the structure.

* * *

It became clear after just 15 minutes that they were digging up something elongated, a kind of wall. It was about 20 centimeters thick and consisted of a material that they had not yet analyzed. Every now and then Nuria put a few flakes into a sample container. She planned to feed the samples to the analyzer in the spaceship. The hard material could only be chipped off with great effort using the hoes.

* * *

Soon their small excavation was half a meter deep and two meters long. It was wonderful to be able to work diligently without becoming exhausted. Occasionally Erik stopped digging and pushed the waste material aside. Nuria took samples of the waste material as well.

“It’s just caked dust,” Erik said.

“If we take samples of regolith from different depths, we can explore the recent history of the planet,” Nuria said.

He let her take the samples and pushed another hill of waste material behind their dig. When he returned, he noticed lines on the exposed structure. “Wait a minute, Nuria,” he said.

She paused, and he pointed to a line. Nuria’s AV scratched its chin. “I think I know what we’re looking at,” she said.

She excavated the Venusian soil in such a fashion that they could follow the course of the line. Of course. Erik had thought of that, too. The line split and formed a honeycomb configuration in combination with other lines. What they had already noticed on a large scale was repeated on a smaller scale.

“Self-similar structures,” Erik said. “Do you think this is a construction?”

“I don’t know. Wouldn’t it need to display more variation if it were artificial?”

“Suppose an alien discovers a human bathroom. Would he think it’s not made by humans, because the tiles are laid regularly?”

“A bad comparison,” Nuria said. “Let’s dig up more. The more of this we manage to view, the better.”

* * *

Three hours had passed. The sun had not seemed to move a millimeter, but Erik’s sense of time told him that it was now evening. He sat down in front of the strange wall and touched it. Erik tried to go back in time to when someone or something formed this wall. Were they individuals who worked here with a hammer and a chisel? Probably not, since he and Nuria would have found traces of them. And the structures were old, but not old enough to have been in existence when Venus was still habitable.

But what natural process produced such patterns? Why was the honeycomb structure repeated on a large scale as well as on a small scale? Were, by chance, two different processes at work that produced similar results, or was there a conscious purpose behind this?

Erik stood up. “We need a whole piece of the thing to place under the microscope. Not just the dust.”

“Are you surmising that the honeycombs repeat themselves at a microscopic scale?”

“Exactly, Nuria.”

“But even if that were the case, that would not tell us yet what this is, or how it came into existence.”

“No, it would just be even more puzzling.”

Nuria laughed. “I like that,” she said, starting to chisel off a piece of the wall.

June 13, 2079, Venus Base

Peter took off his pressure suit and sat down at the table. “If we are dealing with what used to be a living creature, that would mean that the quasicrystals are some sort of cells.”

“Yes, why not? We have no knowledge of any creature that has sulfur-based cells, but that doesn’t mean such a creature can’t exist,” Marchenko said.

“I’ll take a look at the material in the spectrometer.” He took a scalpel and tried to break off a piece of the material, but was unable to.

A hand was placed on his shoulder from behind. It startled him, and he whipped around—Katarina. He looked at her with annoyance.

“Should I tread loudly in the future?” she asked.

She could tell from her tone of voice that she genuinely meant it. “Of course not,” he answered, unable to suppress a grin. “You just startled me a bit.”

“There’s a lot of that material in the box under the table,” she said.

He lifted the box onto the table and opened it. It emitted a swirl of dust into the air, which made him cough. “My goodness, this is really dusty!”

“Maria chipped off some samples with a hammer and a chisel and then crushed them,” Katarina said. “But always with the help of a piece of cloth, so that she didn’t make too much noise.”

That was so sweet. Apparently, she had not wanted to disturb him while he was asleep. “How is she?” he asked. He should have long since inquired about her!

“I’m increasingly unsure.”

“And what does that mean?”

“Her body temperature has been fluctuating a lot, between thirty-five and forty degrees. But right now, it’s just under thirty-five-and-a-half degrees,” Katarina said.

“That doesn’t sound encouraging.” First, a high fever. Then such a low temperature? He hoped they would soon find the cause and be able to help her.

“I’m worried, too,” Marchenko said. “Maria’s immune system seems to be working at full speed, and the phases of hypothermia are not what one would expect with this level of immune system activity.”

* * *

He needed to distract himself from his worries. Peter took a sample from the box and took it to the spectrometer and had the results two minutes later. “A varied bunch of elements,” he mumbled. “Look at this, Marchenko!”

“I don’t have access to the spectrometer.”

Peter connected his communicator to the interface of the spectrometer.

“Sulfur is the main component, and there are many other light elements, and elements with medium molecular weight,” Marchenko said.

“But oxygen is barely detectable,” Peter said.

“That’s not surprising on Venus.”

* * *

“Maria’s blood pressure is fluctuating dangerously,” Katarina said.

“I need the data, quick!” Marchenko said. The robot connected to the bed. “Her heart is racing!” Marchenko said.

“She’s dying!” Katarina cried. “Her heartbeat is barely detectable!”

“The emergency kit, Peter!” Marchenko ordered.

Peter sprinted to the kitchen, but the kit wasn’t in sight. “Where is the damn thing?” he shouted.

“Box 37. Heartbeat back to normal.”

Box 37 had been stowed inside another box on the bottom shelf. He pulled out the box, opened it, and took out the emergency kit.

“Hurry up, bring the emergency kit here!” Katarina cried.

He had never heard Katarina call out in such a shrill voice. Peter ran to her with the kit. “What’s wrong?”

“She almost went into respiratory arrest, but it’s slowly getting better,” Katarina said, seeming to have overcome her panic.

“Wait!” the AI said.

Peter could see that Maria was breathing more rapidly. How could he help her? “Now she’s hyperventilating,” he said. He had to stay calm—panic wouldn’t be of any use. He studied all of the data pertaining to Maria’s body, past and present, in the hologram that his communicator created.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” said the AI. “Maria’s body functions go from one extreme to the other, but never all at the same time.”

“This reminds me of a calibration process,” Peter said, shaking his head because the thought was so absurd.

“Me, too,” Marchenko affirmed. “At the moment, all values are normal. We must wait. I don’t think her condition is life-threatening. But Katarina and I will now monitor her constantly.”

“Do you think I can lie down for a moment?” Peter asked. He didn’t know if he could fall asleep given the current situation, but he was utterly exhausted.

“Do that,” Katarina said in a voice that brooked no argument.

Peter smiled and turned around. He walked down the corridor toward his quarters.

“Maria is awake,” Marchenko said.

Peter ran back to her bed. Finally! I hope she’s feeling better!

Maria lay on the bed with her eyes open and breathing normally, but otherwise motionless. She opened her mouth. “Meat!” she blurted out, “I want meat and nuts. And, above all, that delicious dried fruit!”

June 14, 2079, Venusian Surface

Nuria was still sitting at the kitchen counter, enjoying muesli with fabricated milk, while Erik was reconnecting with his AV. He suddenly found himself in total darkness and was confused for a short moment, because they were still supposed to be on the day side, and then he realized that the AV had automatically switched to sleep mode. He reactivated its sensors—and opened his eyes on Venus.

It was fantastic. Erik was seated, leaning against an ancient wall covered in symbols, on the hot surface of an alien planet. The sun was a bright spot in the sky. Vapor clouds were spreading outward above the nearby volcano. For a moment it seemed like a movie set, because he did not feel the heat, and the clouds were so unnaturally high they could be the studio ceiling.

He waved his arm and the illusion disappeared immediately, for the movement cost him an extraordinary effort. Thanks to his artificial muscles, he could even measure it. It was not like moving in water, but the air felt almost viscous. His database spat out the observation that the air’s density lay between that of tungsten hexafluoride and isopentane. However, this was a wide range, because WF₆ was five times thinner than the air here, and C₅H₁₂ was ten times as dense as the air here. As a human, Erik thought, the feeling is simply unparalleled.

He stood up slowly. Nuria’s AV was still sitting idle, probably freshening up. She always took a bit longer in the morning, but they did not have much time today. The spaceship, from which they controlled the AVs, would dive into the radio shadow below the horizon at about midday. The radio connection to the AVs would break off, and their robot bodies would have to survive alone and motionless for almost two Earth days before they could control them again. They could do nothing about that, because the spaceship could not just stop—it was carried along by the fast-moving cloud layer.

He knelt in front of the wall and hacked into the ground with the tool attached to his arm. How far beneath the surface did the strange wall reach? Erik had the feeling that the answer would help them to understand the nature of the wall phenomenon. He worked as quickly as he could, hoping they might know more before the time came when the connection would be interrupted.

There was a sudden burning sensation in his right eye. He tried to ignore it, but the burning became stronger. Did his AV have a defect? That would pose a big problem! Then he realized it was his own pain. Sweat was running from his forehead into his eye. He briefly snapped out of the AV and wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his uniform. When he returned, he heard a crunching sound.

It was Nuria, who was standing next to him. “You want to dig downward?” she asked.

“Yes, I want to know where the wall ends.”

“Good idea.” She cleared away the waste material he had dug up and then hacked into the ground herself. “I’m digging an entry point,” she said. “I think we’ll have to dig at least three meters down. We have to tackle this professionally. You dig at the base of the wall, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Agreed,” Erik said.

* * *

“Spaceship to miners,” Ethan said after a while. “How is your work progressing?”

Erik did not look up. If Ethan was contacting them of his own volition, it meant that the spaceship would soon reach the radio shadow. That was not a good thing, because they had not yet found the bottom of the wall. By now they had reached a depth of three and a half meters. Erik’s AV was working in a narrow channel. The bottom was almost completely dark. He was glad that he did not have to work here in his own body. The AV did not need a comfortable working position, and when it was dark, it merely switched on its lamp.

“When do we have to leave?” Nuria asked.

Without her, he really would not have achieved any of this. They had barely talked to each other, but communication had nevertheless been excellent. It was good, he realized, that they had trained together for so long.

“You have fifteen minutes left,” Ethan said.

That was not enough. Erik hammered a little more quickly on the ground below him, even though he knew that Nuria would not be able to keep up with removing the waste material. He would have to come to terms with the two days of waiting. They would sit around idle, whereas... No, it was useless to get upset. They had not yet been able to analyze the samples Nuria took. He hoped that would occupy her during the two days they would spend on the night side.

“Come on, Nuria, we should switch the AVs to sleep mode,” he said.

He stood up and climbed upward, out of the hole.

Nuria pointed to a boulder nearby that was roughly half a meter high. “We can sit there.”

Erik sauntered to the spot, sat down, and leaned against the rock. He looked at the bright spot in the sky and then shifted his gaze to the horizon. The spaceship, where his real body was, must be somewhere there. It was a strange and ambivalent feeling, watching yourself say goodbye to yourself...

June 14, 2079, Venus Base

Peter sensed it, felt it, and thought it. It came from his head, and yet it was alien to him. The thoughts that entered his mind weren’t his, yet they were real.

“Wake up. You’re hungry!” He opened his eyes. Katarina was standing next to his bed, smiling at him.

“Your smile is as beautiful as always,” he said, and felt a little better.

“Eat!” the robot said, holding out a bowl of dried fruit.

“How do you know I’m hungry?”

“Like Maria, you slept for seventeen hours, and you went through everything she did.”

“And the dried fruit?” Peter asked.

“Since she’s been awake, she’s been eating meat, nuts, and especially dried fruit.”

“Funny that I like the stuff so much. I used to hate it!”

“The best thing is for you to first take a shower, and I’ll make you a decent meal.”

* * *

His hand jerked back. Why was the water so hot? This is unbearable! He turned the tap to cold, but still the stream of water burned. He quickly dried off, got dressed, and went to the communal lounge, where Katarina had already prepared the meal.

“Something’s wrong with the shower setting,” he said.

“It was off-kilter when I was in the shower, too,” Maria said, taking a piece of dried fruit from Peter’s plate.

“Hands off! That’s my food!” Peter could barely stop himself from smacking her hand. He clasped his hands. Maria’s behavior had made him furious.

“Be glad you still have something on your plate,” Maria said, her eyes emitting sparks of anger. “I’m hungry, too, but there is no proper food here!”

“You have eaten eight times in the last seventeen hours, Maria,” Katerina said as she moved to shield Peter’s plate. “The supplies of dried fruit are almost gone, but the nanofabricators are already working on replenishing the stock.”

Peter took a bite. The dried fruit was delicious. Why have I never noticed that before?

“I want some too!” Maria screamed, pouncing on Peter. But before Maria could reach out to grab his plate, Katarina intervened.

“I’m sorry,” the robot said, taking hold of Maria in a special grip and leading her to her room. Maria fought and called for help. But she deserved this—she had wanted to steal his food!

Katarina locked Maria in her room.

“Oh, you can lock our doors?” Peter asked.

“Marchenko gave me the codes.”

“I have given Katarina many more authorizations because she will need them,” the AI said.

“What authorizations?”

“Haven’t you noticed? You two are behaving antisocially! And it’s getting worse.”

Peter crossed his arms and pouted. “That’s not nice of you, Marchenko!”

“Peter, there can only be one reason for all of this—you’ve both been infected with something. Although we have no idea what it is, it does seem to lead to changes in personality—in character, intellect, and eating habits.”

“So what? Where’s my food, Katarina?”

“Here, Peter. I brought you more dried fruit,” the robot said.

Peter stuffed himself with the fruit as soon as she’d placed it on the plate. “Ah, now I’m full,” he said. “I’m not interested in eating any more right now.”

“I’m worried, Peter,” said Marchenko. “Your breathing is very shallow, and your blood oxygen level is at the lower limit. It might indicate that whatever is controlling you doesn’t like oxygen.”

“Great. Just suffocate us and the disease will disappear. Aren’t you a great doctor!”

“No. On the contrary, we will increase the oxygen content of the atmosphere in the base to thirty percent and see what happens then.”

“Do we have that much oxygen left?”

“That’s the least of our concerns,” Marchenko said. “I’m much more worried about ignition temperature dropping as the oxygen content increases, which raises the risk of fire.”

“Then try it in my bedroom first,” Peter said. “You’d better shut the door behind me, Katarina, and seal it!”

“Peter, do you notice anything?” Marchenko asked.

“What?”

“Once you’re fully satiated, you remind me of the Peter I know.”

“Maybe I’m well again.”

“That would be nice. But it was like that with Maria, too, in the beginning.”

Peter went to his bedroom and flopped onto his bed.

“We are now increasing the oxygen content,” the AI declared.

Peter listened intently to the sound of the ventilation system. It smelled fresher than before. But why was Marchenko blowing, of all things, hot air into his room? Did this sensation have anything to do with his infection?

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m getting dizzy, Marchenko.”

“Try to breathe in as deeply as possible.”

He leaned his head against the wall and noticed it was comfortably cool. He then concentrated on his diaphragm. Breathe in, breathe out. But every breath burned. “I can’t do it,” he said.

“Then breathe normally, and we’ll continue to raise the oxygen level.”

He closed his eyes. As a child, he had once ventured too close to a garden fire. The hot air had taken his breath away. Now it was ten times worse. “Dammit,” he shouted,” shut off the oxygen. I’m burning!”

“You can’t burn from this small amount of extra oxygen.”

“Marchenko, I’m burning up! My whole body hurts!”

The AI had no idea what he was going through—if this continued, his skin would inevitably form blisters!

“His breathing is getting even shallower,” Katarina intervened.

“Peter, it’s important that you make it through this. Please!” Marchenko said.

“No!” Peter cried.

The fire was everywhere. He was the fire. He was going to die.

“Stop the experiment!” Katarina cried.

The door popped open. The oxygen content in the room immediately decreased. The fire retreated deep into his lungs.

“I am very sorry,” Katarina said. “I would love to help you.”

Peter shook his head. Nobody could help him.

“Bring him dried fruit,” Marchenko said.

“Back to square one, you mean?” asked Katarina.

I’m hungry, Peter thought. Didn’t Marchenko just mention dried fruit?

“Not quite,” Marchenko said. “We now know that whatever it is that has infected Maria and Peter must have gained access to their nerve tracts, and is very sensitive to oxygen.”

“And we have also learned that it knows how to fight back,” Katarina said.

June 15, 2079, Venusian Surface

“Look.”

Nuria turned the microscope so that he could comfortably see through the eyepiece. He had to start by focusing the instrument. Then he saw it—the honeycomb pattern. He raised his head and looked at his colleague.

Nuria smiled. “You were right,” she said. “We are dealing with self-similar structures. It’s always the same shape that repeats itself at every level. Tiny honeycombs form small honeycombs, small honeycombs form larger ones, which then make even larger structures. It’s an endless series.”

“But what does this mean?” Erik asked.

“If I only knew!”

“Could it be based on chemistry? Maybe the elements can only connect to form such honeycomb structures, just like hydrocarbons form rings?”

“No. I’ve considered that. We have carbon and oxygen, which is not surprising in Venus’s CO₂ atmosphere, plus hydrogen and nitrogen, and always sulfur—a surprisingly large amount of sulfur,” Nuria explained. “The components are so diverse that it’s impossible for the same structure to be formed every time.”

“So it’s a controlled process... I mean, self-organized.”

“That’s what I think.”

“Could you call it life?”

“We have to be careful about that, Erik. There is self-organization in non-living matter, too.”

“But you’ve already identified life in the clouds. So, maybe there’s a connection?”

“It’s a little too early to know.”

“But it would be logical. Maybe there was life down there in the past. The living things on Venus built these large structures to protect themselves from the environment, structures modeled on their own attributes. And when it became too hot, they withdrew into the clouds.”

“That sounds plausible, Erik, but we have no proof.”

“What about the samples from the waste material?”

“I’m still working on them. The analyzer doesn’t work that fast.”

* * *

It was afternoon, and Erik was sweating on the bike. If he exercised aggressively, he temporarily forgot what was on his mind. It was not the first alien life-form that man had encountered in the solar system, and compared to the oceanic creature on Enceladus, life here seemed very primitive. But he was nevertheless fascinated. Was it because he was closer to the alien life here, closer than any other human being except Nuria—and because he was a co-discoverer?

“Erik?”

“Do you have something, Nuria?”

“Possibly.”

He climbed off the bike and walked across to his colleague. Nuria wrinkled her nose. He turned without a word, pulled a fresh T-shirt over his wet upper body, and reached under it to spray his armpits with deodorant. Erik hoped that would suffice.

“Okay, what’s up?” he asked.

Nuria pulled him to a glass box. He recognized a microscope inside. She put her arms into two holes and pulled the microscope close to her. “You can look through the magnifying eyepiece,” she said. “I’ve isolated what can be seen from the waste material.”

He looked through the ocular and recognized the familiar shapes.

“Now compare that to what I found in the clouds.” Nuria changed the slide. Although she had to work with thick gloves, she was amazingly adept.

He looked again through the eyepiece. The similarity was astonishing, but the proportions were different. He had not changed the magnification, and yet the structures he was looking at were almost an order of magnitude smaller.

“What you see here is the entity I discovered earlier, when I demonstrated that it harvests light energy in a metabolic process,” Nuria said.

“You mean it’s alive?”

“Well, what I demonstrated is a sign of life, but is not proof-positive.”

“The structures here are much smaller than those on the surface,” Erik said. “That might be an evolutionary adaptation.”

“A necessary adaptation. What we found on the surface was too heavy to survive in the clouds in the long run.”

“Now imagine this, Nuria. A few billion years ago, perhaps the whole surface was populated. And then the climate changed. Anything bigger than a few micrometers, and therefore too heavy to float in the clouds, became extinct, just like our dinosaurs.”

“A possible scenario, yes.”

“And what do you think the surface looked like? Was it some kind of bacterial lawn, or more like a meadow, or did they have something like cities?”

“You’re getting carried away by your imagination, Erik. We may never know.”

“But we can imagine it.”

“Well, have fun! I prefer to continue with my analyses. And I would say you need to take a shower.”

“Okay.”

* * *

With eyes closed, Erik let the warm water run over his head. The drops drummed on his skull and drove away all thoughts, until there was only noise and warmth. He only stopped when the water went cold.

Shivering, he reached for the towel and dried off. His mind was on the past. If there had been life on the Venusian surface in the past, it must have been very different from life on Earth. Life, according to the ‘Matryoshka principle’—that which was small became big. Where was the beginning, and what formed the end? Was there something like intelligence? So far, nothing had indicated that. The vast structures, whatever they had been for, weren’t proof. Even animals dug caves or built nests. And here, the Matryoshka principle was apparently ubiquitous.

Hopefully, the wait would soon be over. Maybe they would know more once they had spent more time exploring the vast walls down there.

Erik had a strange thought. What if...? No, that isn’t possible. He pushed the idea aside. He would not tell anyone about it. If he did, Nuria would again think he was just a crank.

June 15, 2079, Venus Base

He had survived, and he was glad of that. He still had a long life ahead of him. He wanted to grow. He shook his head. Now he was going crazy. Peter put a piece of dried fruit in his mouth, although he was already full.

“How are you?” Marchenko asked.

“I’m okay,” he replied. He hoped this was true. Somehow, he could not believe it was over.

“I want to get out of here!” Maria screamed from the next room. “I’m starving!”

A door creaked open. Katarina was probably bringing her food.

“What’s this?” Maria asked.

“This is the first batch of dried fruit manufactured by the nanofabricators,” Katarina said. “Enjoy!”

Peter imagined Maria stuffing her mouth. He would be putting many pieces of fruit in his mouth at once. Yes, he would.

“Don’t wolf it down like that, your stomach won’t tolerate it!” the household robot warned.

What he had imagined was evidently true.

“Yuck. What is this supposed to be? This is not dried fruit!” Maria cried suddenly. “This tin box wants to poison me!”

“It has exactly the same composition as dry fruits on Earth,” Katarina said, piqued. “Only the peel is not as hard. They’re freshly made, after all.”

“The peel was the best part!” Maria screamed.

Peter heard something sliding down the wall.

Maria only whimpered. “Make it again! The right way! I’m so hungry!”

“No problem, Maria,” the robot reassured her. “I’ll be right back.”

What would Katarina do? In another room, something closed with a loud snap. She had probably put the artificial fruit into the oven. Then he heard her heavy footsteps again.

“Here, start with this,” she said.

“Give it to me!” Maria cried.

Peter heard crunching, chewing sounds. He guessed that she was eating nuts. He hoped that was not the portion that was meant for him!

There was a buzzing sound. He was right. It was the stove. Katarina clattered about in the kitchen, then came to him with a bowl. “Isn’t this a good reproduction of the consistency of the original fruit?” she asked.

Peter picked up a piece of fruit, felt it, and nodded.

“Then try it.”

He bit into it. He was overcome with disgust. “Yuck! This tastes horrible!” he said.

“I wonder why?” Katarina asked. “Marchenko? Do you have any idea?”

“The chemical composition is identical?”

“Absolutely. I even had the internal consistency replicated, and the water content is also the same.”

“Put some of the peel into the analyzer and connect me with it,” Marchenko requested.

“Okay. There, you should be able to see the values now.”

“Thank you. Ah, yes. The preservatives are missing,” Marchenko noted.

“I decided to forego them. The fruits were going to be eaten immediately anyway.”

“Then let us start a new experiment. Please give me your programming for the dried fruit. I want to modify it a bit!”

* * *

An hour later, Maria and Peter were sitting together at the kitchen table. Katarina set down a tray with three small plates in front of them. “Please try these from left to right,” she said.

“They still look so soft,” Maria complained.

Peter reached for the fruit. Yes, it was just right. Katarina had finally found the perfect recipe. This was just how it should taste. “Hmm, these are so good,” he said.

“And especially these!” Maria praised a fruit from the plate in the middle. She reached for fruit on the extreme right, bit into it, and her face registered disappointment. “Not too bad.”

Peter also tasted from the last plate. Maria is right! “The last ones are okay. But those in the middle are superb,” he summed up.

“The last ones,” Katarina said, smiling, “are the ones that you liked so much up until now. They are from the last bag from Earth.”

Peter and Maria ate until all three plates were empty.

“And now tell us the secret, Katarina!” Peter said.

“It’s the preservative—the fruits are sulfured,” Marchenko explained instead of Katarina. “The pathogens obviously don’t care about the nutrients. The only thing they care about is sulfur.”

June 16, 2079, Venusian Surface

“Commander to spaceship.”

“Yes, Chuck?” Ethan acknowledged.

“We have a problem. I’m worried about the AVs.”

“What’s going on?” Nuria interrupted.

“I just flew over your area of operations. The temperature has increased significantly. Could a volcano have erupted?”

“We didn’t notice anything, but thanks for the warning, Charles. What should we do?” Nuria asked. “After all, we’re still in the AVs’ radio shadow.”

“I could relay your connection from the spaceship. Someone should check on the AVs.”

“The signal propagation delay would be much too long then,” Erik said. “From the spaceship to orbit and then to the surface, that’s not real-time anymore.”

“Well then, you will have to act with a little foresight.”

“You’re right, Charles,” Nuria said. “We need to do something.”

“You don’t have much time to ponder. In ten minutes, I’ll be in the radio shadow myself, and then you won’t be able to reach the AVs.”

“Erik, come on, let’s quickly get down there,” Nuria said.

Erik nodded. He ran to his couch, put on the BCI’s sensory hood, and lay down. There was darkness in front of his eyes. Then he was in his AV. First, he had to quit the sleep mode. His field of vision displayed the time it took the software to do this. He canceled all system tests, since he could perform them later. The sense of sight came on, and the environment suddenly had a reflective surface. He looked at his feet. They were standing in a shiny pool that was over 1,000 degrees. The internal cooling system switched to maximum performance.

“What is this?” Nuria asked.

“Must be magma. The volcano over there!”

He pointed to the mountain over which smoke had been rising the day before yesterday. Was the magma coming from there? He found that hard to believe. The volcano was much too far away!

Then he saw the flow. It arose on the mountain slopes. The magma must remain liquid for a long time due to the heat on Venus’s surface. It must also differ in composition from magma on Earth. The flow was moving directly toward them, so they were apparently in a depression.

“Onto the rock!” he shouted. Erik got up and climbed onto the boulder they had been leaning against. His movements took place with a minimal delay, which irritated him enormously. The suspension must be due to the rerouting of the signal via the spaceship, he thought. He heard a smacking sound shortly after he had pulled his feet out of the hot mass.

Nuria was still standing below him. Her AV looked strangely crooked and tilted forward.

“What’s wrong, Nuria?”

“My hip. Maybe it melted.”

“That can’t be. The joint may have expanded due to the heat. That will right itself in a short while. But you can’t remain down there.”

“I can’t move. I’m not able to climb up.”

Erik knelt on the boulder. He reached Nuria with his right arm and managed to pull her toward himself. He then lifted her up. Her body was as heavy as his. He had to be careful not to lose his balance, but he finally succeeded in pulling her to safety. Nuria managed to kneel on the boulder in spite of her crooked upper body. Erik looked around. They were safe here.

“I’ll be gone in four minutes,” Charles said.

“Everything’s okay,” Erik said. “We’re safe for the moment.”

“Good. What was wrong?”

“I’ll tell you later. I must first disable the sleep mode. If the AV shuts down its systems, it may topple back into the magma.”

“Magma?”

“Later, Charles. Nuria, you have to turn off sleep mode on your AV as well.”

“I’m already working on that. The option is a little hard to find.”

“Yes. Don’t search under system administration. The programmers placed it under developer options.”

“Thanks, Erik...”

The radio connection broke off. Erik heard Nuria’s last words from her own mouth.

“... I found it now.”

* * *

Erik had rarely waited so eagerly to finally slip back into the AV. They now had two days to get to the bottom of the mystery of the strange structures. He awakened on the boulder. The magma was still flowing, but that was not a problem, since they had their jetpacks after all.

Fortunately, the area where they dug up the wall was a bit elevated. “Let’s fly over there,” he said.

Nuria nodded. She, too, was standing straight again. Her hip joint had apparently cooled off and righted itself.

They almost simultaneously ignited their jetpacks, shot upward next to each other, and landed at the excavation area.

“Do you want to go back down there, or should we trade?” Nuria asked.

“Thanks, but I would like to continue to excavate at the wall base.”

“Sure. It was your idea, after all.”

Erik climbed down into the pit and switched on the light. Nothing had changed. He knelt in front of the wall and continued to hack into the hard ground. He was happy, because immediately a particularly large piece separated from the rest of the ground. He carefully picked it up and examined it, immediately noticing that the bottom was quite smooth.

He illuminated the ground. They had made it! If they had known that they were so close! “We’re at the bottom,” he shouted.

“Hey, congratulations,” Nuria replied.

“I will try to expose as much of the floor as possible.”

* * *

Two hours later, about three square meters of the same material as the side wall lay at his feet. The patterns were also repeated on the floor. “Do you know what this means?” he asked.

“Tell me.”

“I don’t think this is a house or something like that. In my opinion, we have the largest version of the same organism that you found in the waste material and in the clouds.”

“Would that not be a bit unimaginative of evolution, to simply copy everything on a larger scale?”

“Why does evolution have to come up with something complicated, if there is a simple option? Maybe the conditions here were ideal for this kind of development. Giant animal species went extinct on Earth due to a lack of food. But if evolution here laid all its bets on sulfur, there would always have been enough.”

“Do you mean that once upon a time, hundred-meter-long worms crawled around here?”

“Probably not. I think they were stationary, like plants. Or just like giant versions of unicellular organisms. Who says that unicellular organisms need to be small?”

“That’s right,” Nuria said. “Caulerpa taxifolia, a species of algae, can grow to several meters. You hardly find single-celled organisms larger than Caulerpa on Earth. But that gives me an idea.”

“What?”

“Biologists always thought that individual cells could not grow very big because the nucleus would not be able to exert its effects at a distance. Caulerpa taxifolia solved this problem by allowing many cell nuclei to swim around in one cell. Maybe things are similar here, and what we found in the waste material were the cell nuclei.”

“I have an even crazier idea,” Erik said. “One that only a non-biologist would come up with. What if life here has consistently implemented the Matryoshka principle? Every living thing might be the nucleus for a larger organism at the next level, while its own cell nucleus is, in fact, a smaller organism at a smaller level of life, and this continues down to the microscopic level.”

“That would definitely make life very flexible. When enough food is available, one of the cells grows to the next higher level. If not, at least the smaller versions have a chance of survival.”

“They could even feed on the higher levels. That would automatically regulate the population. Whenever a creature no longer finds enough food, it is eaten by its own cell nuclei from within. And when they themselves don’t have enough to eat, their smaller cell nuclei eat them up in turn, and so on, until there is once again enough food.”

“That sounds pretty crazy,” Nuria said.

“No crazier than the marvelous hodgepodge that evolution has wrought on Earth.”

“That’s true. Your idea is actually pretty simple, and it meets the condition of Occam’s razor. Unfortunately, that does not tell us whether it’s true.”

“The hypothesis could be tested,” Erik said. “If we assume that the tiny cells that you have discovered in the clouds represent the miniature versions that cannot grow any smaller, we would only need to provide them with enough food, and they would grow into something bigger.”

Nuria did not answer.

“Do you have a problem with that?” he asked.

“You want to breed alien cells aboard the spaceship. Dammit, that reminds me a lot of a horror movie I saw as a child.”

“That was Hollywood, Nuria! It wasn’t a scientific documentary. We will let them grow in a sample container with a Venusian atmosphere. If they somehow escape, the oxygen in our air would kill them anyway.”

“Well, we do have a security lab on board, a prerequisite for such experiments. But even then, the people at NASA will give us hell when they find out.”

“Not if we succeed.”

“You mean, the end justifies the means?”

“They need mission successes. And let’s be honest, the risk is minimal, or do you see it differently?”

“No, Erik, I too think the creatures would just as surely die in our atmosphere as we would in theirs.”

“There you go.”

“Then all we have to do is find out what we could feed them,” Nuria said.

“I don’t know why, but I’m guessing elemental sulfur.”

“Why?”

“It’s so hot down here that it immediately sublimates. That’s why everything is dead. In the clouds, however, sulfur can arise during reduction reactions. We have enough sulfuric acid there as the starting material.”

“You may be right. If that doesn’t work, we’ll just have to improvise.”

“Well, we are masters of improvisation.”

Erik’s AV raised its left hand, and Nuria’s machine slapped a high five against it.

June 16, 2079, Venus Base

Maria slept, ate, then slept again. One could no longer hold a rational conversation with her. Peter was glad that he was feeling better. After all, he could still think reasonably clearly, as long as he regularly ate dried fruit. He no longer liked the sticky-sweet stuff, but he couldn’t stop eating it, either.

“How are you?” Katarina asked.

“I’m doing amazingly well. Certainly better than Maria,” he said.

Katarina was taking care of them with angelic patience. It was a good thing that she had come along on this journey. If it had been only Marchenko. Peter did not want to imagine that. He and Maria would presumably have killed each other long ago, fighting for the last dried fruit. Katarina was always busy replenishing supplies.

“The pathogens are having a hard time in your case for some reason,” Katarina said. “You could try lowering the dose, Peter.”

“No. As long as I get enough sulfur I feel reasonably mentally fit, and I want to stay that way. Especially now. What is this disgusting crap?” Peter groaned softly and pushed another piece of dried fruit into his mouth.

“There are a few parallels to parasites on Earth,” Marchenko explained. “For example, there is a fungus that grows in the bodies of ants and turns them into zombies without a will of their own. And the fluke worm Euhaplorchis californiensis manipulates the brain function of fish so that they swim to the surface and wriggle around until birds, the worm’s final host, become aware of them. Or even—”

“Thanks, Marchenko, all of that sounds very discouraging.”

But Marchenko was not to be distracted. He continued, “There’s a brain parasite called Toxoplasma gondii that infects rats and mice and whose end-host is cats. It makes the rodents lose their fear of cats, much like the worm in the case of the fish—with only one difference.”

Why does Marchenko always have to be a mystery-monger? “And that would be?”

“Toxoplasma gondii can also use humans as intermediaries, except that infection usually goes unnoticed by us. But we make antibodies.”

“You mean, I had such an infection in the past, and the antibodies help me against this stuff? What is the probability of that?”

“High. It is estimated that about half of all people in Europe have already come into contact with it.”

“Not bad. How can we be sure?”

“Quite simple. Katarina takes a sample of your blood and we examine it.”

Peter was skeptical. Why would antibodies to an earthly parasite work against something completely unknown from Venus?

“We have no equipment for that,” Katarina said.

“No problem. I’ll get the blueprints, and the nanofabricators will build it,” Marchenko suggested.

“That would take too long,” Peter said. “The probability is only fifty-fifty, and how do we know that Earth antibodies have any effect here? Let’s try something different. Whatever it is, I put myself at your disposal as a guinea pig.”

“I can’t allow that!” Katarina said.

“Please, I am asking for your permission.”

No one had ever worried so much about me, not even my mother. This thought startled him. After all, Katarina was a robot. But he nevertheless felt grateful to her. “What options do we have, Marchenko?” he asked.

“If we fight it, we have to assume that the pathogen will again fight back. But if we feed you more sulfur, the parasite will probably not fight back. Maybe it will then grow, and we can finally locate and analyze it.”

“Isn’t so much sulfur extremely unhealthy?”

“We will give you elemental sulfur. Normally, the body excretes most of it.”

This meant Marchenko wanted to let an alien parasite grow in him. Peter had a lump in his throat. He felt his stomach and imagined an alien penetrating and bursting forth from his abdominal wall. He felt sick. “Is there any other option? Who knows if we can control the thing if it grows too big?”

“Of course,” Marchenko said. “We starve it. But it will certainly be unpleasant for you, because the parasite won’t put up with that.”

Peter once again felt his stomach. Hadn’t it grown significantly since yesterday? He shouldn’t have watched so many old horror movies on the outbound flight. “So I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place,” he said. “Well then, I choose starvation.”

Nevertheless, he could not suppress the urge and ate two more pieces of dried fruit.

“I’d better prepare a sulfur compound for an emergency,” Katarina said.

“That’s a good idea,” Marchenko replied. “Well, then let’s get started.”

* * *

Peter lay down on a sloping metal ramp, which was usually used for repairs.

“I’ll tie you down now,” Katarina announced. “It’s necessary so that you do not hurt yourself.”

“Inject him with a sleep aid. That may help him to get through the worst stretches,” Marchenko suggested.

Peter nodded. If Marchenko suggested it, it could not be a bad idea. Maybe the alien baby in his stomach would then fall asleep, too.

Katarina got a syringe and gave him an injection. Peter stroked his stomach again. It was just as big as yesterday and the same as the day before that. He mustn’t drive himself crazy. Life was not a cheap horror movie.

“Now it’s time to keep our fingers...” he heard Marchenko say, and then sank into a gray, cotton-like darkness. He could not move.

* * *

“We’re here,” the taxi driver said.

Peter opened his eyes. They were standing in front of the branch of a supermarket chain. It had snowed outside. He gave the driver his name so that he could deduct the fare. He then opened the door of the vehicle and stepped out. The walkway was slippery. Why hadn’t someone scattered some gravel here? And what did he want here?

He was hungry. Exactly, that was it. His fridge had been empty. Maria had eaten everything he had stored in it, even the pineapple that she didn’t like. What had she been doing in his apartment? It didn’t matter. He was here because he was hungry. He entered the supermarket, found the shelf with the sulfurized dried fruit, and ate, but the hunger remained. Peter shouted in the store. A siren could be heard outside. The manager must have called the police. An official wanted to arrest him.

“I’m just hungry,” Peter cried, his voice echoing in the huge room. The other customers turned to look at him. They showed him their huge bellies in which something was clearly moving, but he was not afraid of it. He was angry with them, for they had eaten up the dried fruit that he had wanted! He wanted to flee, but he could not move his legs. Someone was holding him down.

“Let me go! Let me go!”

The police opened fire. His body was riddled with bullets. He was not worried about his life, but about his stomach. He must not burst! He was getting hotter and hotter.

“I’m burning. I can no longer bear it. I...”

Peter fell silent. He was lying on an uncomfortable sloping metal panel. Katarina was standing in front of him. He said softly, “I can’t feel anything anymore.” This was far more frightening than anything he had dreamed.

“Wonderful!”

“No, Marchenko, you misunderstood me. I can’t feel anything anymore. I can’t even move my fingers.”

He was wheezing. What was wrong with his chest? Was it still rising and falling with his breath? He tried to look at himself but didn’t succeed. Was he in the process of suffocating? Was this what it felt like when one was suffocating?

“Marchenko, we have to stop this. Peter is dying,” Katarina protested.

“Give him the drug.”

Katarina dribbled a solution onto his tongue, which followed gravity and ran down his throat. He swallowed with his last strength.

Things improved immediately. “More!” he whispered.

Katarina gave him the whole bottle.

Feeling returned to his limbs. He was back, and he was relieved. “I can feel again,” Peter said. “What was in the solution?”

“It was a suspension of elemental sulfur, to which I added something,” Katarina replied.

“Antibiotics?”

“No, they’re optimized for carbon-based pathogens. I mixed common antiparasitics into the suspension. When these parasites are starving, they will accept anything that smells like sulfur.”

“But weren’t these drugs designed for Earth’s parasites?”

“Unfortunately. But if we’re very lucky, your parasites may still respond.”

June 17, 2079, Venusian Atmosphere

Today they could finally return to the spaceship. In the meantime, Erik was anxiously sitting on the surface. Further excavation hadn’t yielded any new results. It now depended on the experiment.

Ethan would inform them when they needed to start.

Erik had performed a complete system test. The AV, and especially its jetpack, were in good condition, as was Nuria’s AV. Actually, nothing could go wrong.

And yet, they were, of course, not on Earth on a summer vacation, but on Venus. While it was almost calm down here, there was a storm blowing where they wanted to go, stronger than any hurricane on Earth. They would be voluntarily flying into the hurricane.

“I’m not too happy about this,” Erik said.

“You mean the experiment we planned?” Nuria asked.

“No. I’m talking about the storm up there.”

“We came down through the storm, didn’t we?”

“Well, yes.”

“Ethan, what does the weather report say? Our lad here is a bit scared.”

“All within the limits of the expected,” Ethan said. “You’re lucky that we’re at the equator. Near the poles, there are nasty downdrafts.”

“That makes me feel better,” Erik said.

“Good. I’ll display the countdown for you now. You already have the acceleration profile for the jetpacks. You probably don’t have to do anything.”

“Probably?”

“Such a storm is a chaotic system, and there can be unexpected cross currents.”

“Understood.”

The countdown began. At zero Erik mentally gave the start signal. The AV obediently took off. At first the flight was surprisingly uneventful. Erik was able to study the volcanic eruption. There were magma flows on three slopes, and several plumes of smoke were still visible. But there had been no explosive events. Visibility deteriorated as they approached an altitude of about 30 kilometers. Erik didn’t remember encountering this mist during the descent.

Then they encountered the first gusts of wind.

Erik’s AV shuddered in the wind. “Quite turbulent here,” he said via radio.

“Yes, you’re in a major weather region. That’s normal,” Ethan answered. “But watch out, it’ll start soon.”

The stream of air became stronger as each second went by. It pulled him along, and he could not fight back, even if he’d wanted to.

“You two are doing well,” Ethan reassured him.

Ethan was probably observing their heart rates. He must not become too stressed out. After all, he was safe on his couch. Only a ‘tin can’ was in jeopardy.

The storm strengthened, and at the same time the temperature dropped. They were approaching the area where the spaceship was traveling. They must not miss it. That’s why the plan was to play the role of hitchhiker. They would fly to a spot that the spaceship was supposed to cross, then let themselves be gently pulled along.

“Now hold that altitude,” Ethan said. “Wait a minute. I’m getting a radio call.”

“Could you focus on us, please? We’ll miss the spaceship, and then we’ll have to spend another four days on the surface,” Erik grumbled.

“Stop making such a fuss. It’s a distress signal,” Ethan said.

“What?” Nuria asked.

“A distress signal. Wait.”

“But from whom? From Charles?”

“Okay, now I have it. A certain Marchenko is urgently asking for help.”

“Marchenko?” Nuria asked. “Sounds Russian.”

“Yes, the signal comes from the RB landing module. They have a medical emergency and need urgent help.”

“Something medical?”

“Yes, they didn’t reveal any further details.”

“Then we should help them, obviously,” Nuria said.

“We have a small problem. Their base is a long way to the north. Remember the downdrafts? To be able to help them, we would have to navigate the spaceship to where they are,” Ethan explained.

“That sounds dangerous,” Nuria said.

“It probably is. But, first things first—let’s get your AVs on board. Then we can discuss what we need to do about their emergency.”

Erik slowed his flight speed a bit. He did not need to slow down much—the main thing was that the spaceship would have the opportunity to catch up with them. He would only be able to see it at the last second, because the clouds were very dense. But he had access to the necessary data in the display, which indicated the ship ought to appear at any moment.

He activated the magnetic holding devices in the AV’s arms and legs. There—I see the ship! It was flying about two meters above him. He reached it with a short thrust of the jetpack. The magnets in his arms and legs ensured he remained attached to the bottom of the ship.

Erik clambered around the spaceship and anchored himself to the topside. Nuria was already there—he had not noticed her.

He broke the connection and became aware of lying on the couch, drained.

June 17, 2079, Venus Base

Following his nonrestorative sleep, Peter wiped the sweat from his forehead. He could not put his finger on it, but he felt different. His body was fighting, and he was thirsty. “Katarina, can you give me something to drink, please?” he pleaded.

“Of course. What would you like?”

“Something sweet.”

“A few pieces of dried fruit as well?”

“No, I have no appetite for them.” He could hardly believe what he was saying, but it was true.

The robot’s face brightened. Katarina hugged him. “Perhaps you made it!”

“Perhaps. I’d still like something to drink.” Peter said, smiling.

“Oh, of course!”

Peter didn’t ask her what it was. He enjoyed the sweet drink and leaned back. Then he said, “I think I will get some more sleep. Perhaps then I won’t feel so tired.”

“A good idea!” Katarina said with a charming smile.

* * *

Peter awoke hours later. He wiped his forehead out of habit and found the sweat was gone.

“How are you?” Marchenko asked.

“Fine! I have not had such a sense of well-being in a long time.”

“I will prepare breakfast!” Katarina exclaimed, and started work immediately.

Peter smiled, walked past her, and put a handful of dried fruit into his mouth. “Please add plenty of jam!”

“Of course!”

He kept going, since he just realized the kitchen was not his destination.

“Where are you going?” Marchenko asked in his usual disembodied voice.

Peter didn’t answer. It wouldn’t lead anywhere. Marchenko would not understand him.

“Can you hear me? What are you doing with the pressure suit?”

Yes, what am I doing with the suit? He needed to wear it, that much was clear. The inner suit had already adjusted to his body shape. It was a good thing that he had practiced this often.

“What about your breakfast?” Katarina asked as Peter put his helmet on.

He did not care about breakfast, no matter how much marmalade she made. Let Katarina eat it herself.

“I cannot let you leave!” Marchenko said.

Peter laughed.

“Peter, you’re scaring me. That laugh scares me,” Katarina said.

He did not know what her problem was. Down here he was in danger. Where he was going, he would feel better. Couldn’t she understand that? Or was she too selfish to let him leave? It had been clear to him that Marchenko wouldn’t understand, but he had expected more of Katarina.

“I need healthy sulfur,” he said, “not the stuff you gave me.” He didn’t mean to criticize them. They just didn’t know otherwise, but now he knew better. He must not consider their opinions any longer.

“Sulfur is never really healthy,” Marchenko said. “You realize that, don’t you?”

“I’m going to obtain some sulfur snow from the mountains in the east.”

“You mean the lead sulfide and bismuth sulfide found at Maxwell Montes?” the AI asked. “You won’t reach the mountains. They are too far away. And if you do, that stuff will kill you.”

“It won’t kill me, it will make me strong. Then I won’t need the shell any longer.”

“I’m sorry, but you won’t get past me. You are no longer the master of your senses.”

“You can’t prevent it, Marchenko.”

The suit reported that someone was trying to take control from outside. Peter laughed. He had, of course, changed the codes in anticipation.

“I’ll stop him!” Katarina cried, running toward Peter.

The suit’s fist hit her full force. Its exoskeleton was designed to withstand far greater force. Katarina flew a few meters through the air and lay motionless on the floor near a shelf.

“No!” Marchenko cried. “Katarina? Katarina, report!”

“I guess she’s not going to report to you any longer,” Peter said. “She should not have tried to stop me. That was selfish behavior that I cannot tolerate in my crew.”

“Peter, you are ill. Let me help you!”

“I’m leaving now, whether you like it or not.”

“I blocked the airlock.”

Peter laughed. Marchenko still believed he was in charge. He would soon realize that he was wrong. “Let me think,” he said. “If I smash the airlock, what’s going to happen? I’ll help you answer that. The pressure will rise and the outside atmosphere will enter the base, the nanofabricators will be destroyed, and what’s left of Katarina will be crushed. And Maria? Will she suffocate quickly, or will she die due to the atmospheric pressure? But you won’t care, because you won’t be there to experience it, because your data processor will probably fail before that. Therefore, let me out, bean counter!”

“I’ll release the airlock.”

“Good idea, and of your own free will, too!” Peter laughed.

“Hunger, I’m hungry,” someone whimpered in front of him. Maria was crawling out of the sleeping area on all fours. He felt sorry for her. She didn’t try to stop him.

“What’s wrong with her, Marchenko?” he asked.

“She apparently cannot survive without help from others.”

Peter stopped in his tracks. What did Marchenko just say? “What do you mean?”

“Look at her. Katarina can no longer help her. If you leave the base, she’ll die. I can only watch.”

That would certainly please you, Peter thought irrationally. His more rational mind argued, But Maria, she does not deserve to die. He had to stay. He owed her that much. But no, he must leave. His body had a very precise idea of what he now needed. His legs moved him unstoppably to the airlock.

He needed to stay here.

He must leave.

He needed to stay here.

He must leave.

He must leave.

The force that pulled him outside the base was stronger. Maria lay stretched out on the floor. Saliva trickled out of her mouth, and her eyes were bloodshot. The image of her face with its bloodshot eyes was burned into his memory. The airlock door closed behind him. The room filled with dense carbon dioxide. He could not forget Maria’s eyes. He must not go to the mountains, or he would be to blame if Maria died. His body exited the airlock. The base remained behind him, although he fought every step he took.

“Code gecko thirteen,” Peter whispered into the helmet microphone. This was the emergency command that switched off the suit. The pressure suit reacted before his legs noticed. He suddenly stood still. As hard as he tried, he could no longer move. His body did not agree with this. It fought back with all its might. It was hot. He was burning. He was ablaze. He would die, but it did not matter.

“Peter? I’ll get help,” Marchenko said.

Peter watched as error messages filled the helmet display. The communication to the base had been interrupted. He was alone. “I can’t continue,” he whispered, and plunged into the night that unfolded in him.

June 18, 2079, Venusian Surface

“Spaceship to Venus base,” Ethan called over the radio.

“Marchenko here. Are you coming?”

“We’re on our way. There is good news and bad news.”

“I’d like the good news first.”

“We have to shift our course from the equator to latitude sixty degrees north. The computer initially said that we would need to orbit Venus at least once to get there. But we have found a shortcut, thanks to the data from the orbit. At a height of sixty kilometers, there are currents—cyclones—that can catapult us to the north. We can be with you tomorrow at noon Moscow time.”

“I don’t know if that’s good news,” Marchenko answered in perfect English. “The vital signs of my crew member are already minimal. He’s out there in his pressure suit and is running out of oxygen.”

“I’m sorry,” Ethan said, “but we cannot perform miracles.”

“I know,” Marchenko said. “I do not expect that, either. I was just hoping to save Peter. But you are doing what you can. I’m very grateful to you for that.”

“What about the second endangered person?” Ethan asked.

“Maria. She is on her own within the base—and at the mental level of a two-year-old. At least she won't suffocate.”

“Then we’ll definitely be able to help her,” Ethan said.

Erik was glad that he did not have to hold this conversation.

“Thank you. And the bad news?” Marchenko asked.

“I don’t know yet how close I can get our two AVs. There are strong downdrafts in the north. I need to keep the spaceship away from them.”

“I agree. It won’t help anyone if you crash due to those downdrafts.”

“Thank you for your understanding,” Ethan said. “That may mean some extra delay. The AVs have their own jetpacks, but their range is limited. They are mostly meant for controlled landings and then re-ascending.”

“I trust that you will help as fast as you can. I can’t blame you for what happened here,” Marchenko said.

“That’s another topic we need to talk through. Of course, my bosses are very interested in what you are doing down there. I was able to brush them off because you have an emergency, but the questions will resurface.”

Erik admired his diplomacy. Ironically, Ethan, who really liked to talk... he thought. The high-ranking NASA officials had asked millions of questions, and they had not been able to answer any of them. The officials had even wanted to forbid them to think of helping the Russians unless the RB Group put all their cards on the table.

But then Charles intervened from the orbiting spaceship. International laws obliged them to provide assistance in good faith and without delay. Did their superiors want to stand before the judges at an international tribunal? Erik had been very grateful to the commander—why should the little guys pay for what the big guys had screwed up? Two astronauts were in imminent mortal danger down there. Nothing else counted.

“I will do my best to answer all your questions,” Marchenko said. “If necessary, I’ll give you access to the databases. I am authorized to do that.”

“Thank you. But more importantly, how dangerous is the thing that you have stirred up down there? I need an honest answer,” Ethan said.

“It’s dangerous as shit! Excuse my coarse language, but I cannot think of another word. An extraterrestrial organism that feels comfortable in the human body is the stuff of science fiction B movies.”

“We’ve also discovered these honeycomb creatures, both in the clouds and in the ground,” Nuria explained. “In our opinion, they work according to the Matryoshka principle. If there are enough resources, smaller elements combine to form ever-larger ones.”

“That doesn’t seem to be all that there is to it. I have sent you the recordings. It might be showing traces of intelligence.”

“That may be an illusion, Marchenko. What you are seeing is perhaps the intelligence of the hosts, your colleagues,” Nuria said.

“We have to keep this away from other people and from humanity,” Ethan said.

“Your autonomous units are perfect for the job,” Marchenko said. “We should have relied on this technology, too. But hindsight is always twenty-twenty.”

“I’ll bring the analyzer,” Nuria said. “Maybe I can alter the two crew members’ antibodies to fight the intruder.”

“That would be a ray of hope. As it stands, it will be too late for Peter. In three hours, his oxygen will be used up, and he will suffocate out there. Marchenko out.”

* * *

“Warning! Here we go!” Ethan said, announcing the maneuver.

Erik floated. He’d felt heavy while the spaceship had been carried straight up, but now he felt almost weightless. It was like when he was a kid, when they had been traveling in the car and crested hilltops at high enough speeds to create this sensation.

“Hold on,” Ethan shouted.

Had they already arrived at an altitude of 60 kilometers? The rising air current had to be very strong. Erik prepared for the roller coaster ride. It began with a strong push in the back. The spaceship was forcefully carried along by the anticyclone in a clockwise direction. Their calm journey had ended—the storm was made up of rotating air masses. They were traveling on a vast carousel as hitchhikers.

Erik felt the centrifugal forces in his stomach. Above all, he hoped Ethan would make the jump at the right moment. If they wanted to reach their destination as quickly as possible, they must not leave the storm too soon, but only when it would catapult them in the precise direction of their destination. If they waited too long, the storm would carry them past their intended destination.

But Ethan would succeed. He was a good pilot.

* * *

Jumping off a spinning carousel wasn’t easy, especially when it was not enough to just let go. Ethan would have to maneuver the spaceship downward again so that they could leave the area of the storm. For this he must reduce the load-bearing capacity—therefore, he would have to let out some lifting gas.

The process would happen more and more slowly as their altitude decreased, because of the increasing pressure. Simulating the process with the computer had proved to be impossible because of the lack of data. Therefore, Ethan was now steering the ship manually, based on his skill and instincts. Erik closed his eyes. He could not be of help in this situation, anyway.

* * *

“Spaceship to Venus base,” Ethan called over the radio.

“Marchenko here.”

“We were catapulted northward and have safely managed to reach a lower altitude.”

“Mm-hmm, okay.”

“What’s wrong?”

“You don’t have to hurry so much anymore. Peter is already dead.”

“We are all very sorry to hear that, Marchenko.”

June 18, 2079, Venus Base

“Damned perfection!”

Marchenko cursed the Enceladus being that had so perfectly reproduced his consciousness. He still felt like a human being, and Peter’s death troubled him greatly. The highly gifted scientist, with his practical intelligence and strong sense of ethics, had grown close to Marchenko’s heart... which he no longer had.

“The situation has changed dramatically,” he recorded. “Peter Kovalyov has died. We could not save him.”

He did not transmit any information beyond that to the RB Group. More was not necessary now, so he waited for the answer. Although Venus was near the minimal distance to Earth in its orbit around the sun, it took three minutes for the information to arrive on Earth, so the response could not possibly arrive in fewer than six minutes.

* * *

“How could this happen?”

Valentina Shostakovich’s voice almost broke, as Marchenko could hear when he received the message from RB after waiting a good ten minutes.

“We are breaking off the mission. Before you come back, you must guarantee that none of this filth ends up on Earth. Do you understand, Marchenko? Absolutely nothing! If you cannot ensure that, you will have to remain there. The firm would not survive being the cause of a pandemic. Maria is a biochemist. She can’t return unless she finds a solution. Tell her that!”

“Maria is in terrible condition!” Marchenko responded. “She can do nothing on her own. I asked NASA for help. They will be here tomorrow with two robots. At the moment, I cannot say anything specific about Peter's death. Presumably, the parasites controlling his nerves killed him. As of now, I still do not know how to eliminate the biological contamination.”

Again, it felt like an eternity before the answer arrived. It was easy for Valentina to talk! Right now, he was utterly powerless. How could he fight the parasites? If Maria received help, he would be happy.

“An hour ago, I would have turned down a call for help from NASA,” Valentina reported. “But I have to trust you, Marchenko, even though our shared past is very difficult. Just one request. Show the NASA people our research activities here, in detail, so that those activities are documented. Then we can prove that we didn’t violate the agreements. The household robot should tend to Maria until a cure is found.”

It was unbelievable. Valentina was apparently mainly concerned about the RB Group, not the people here. But he had to admit she was right. These pathogens could cause a disaster of biblical proportions on Earth.

“Katarina is currently out of service. I have assigned three-quarters of the nanofabricators to the task of repairing her. They should be done in two days. I am sending the NASA robots to the wall we unearthed so that they can document it. I will report back to you as soon as there is news.”

Valentina answered again barely six minutes later.

“Thank you!”

* * *

Marchenko checked the repairs on the household robot. He had to compile the report himself from the nanofabricators’ status reports. The system was more damaged than he had feared. The two days he had mentioned to Valentina was very optimistic.

Would Maria, who screamed incessantly, be able to make it until then? It seemed unrealistic to him. If only she would at least drink! But she seemed to have forgotten how to operate a faucet, and she wouldn’t listen to his voice. Shouldn’t the parasites try to help her to save their own lives? Although the base had many faucets, Maria would die of thirst. A person could survive without water for about three days. Tomorrow was the third day. Marchenko felt very sorry, but nobody could help her.

He looked again at the sensor data on Peter’s spacesuit. The suit seemed to be about to cook him. The heating system was presumably on high to compensate for the dead body’s heat loss.

“I can’t understand it,” he murmured to himself, a habit from old times. “There’s still enough oxygen left.”

The container’s display was clear. Peter could not have suffocated. Even the emergency reserve was untouched.

June 19, 2079, Venusian Atmosphere

A punch in the back, then one he felt in his kidneys. Erik fell, then an iron fist held him in its grip. He watched Ethan, the pilot, who didn’t bat an eyelid, and kept the spaceship on course. They had reached the zone of the downdrafts. Ethan wanted to bring them as close to their destination as possible, but the ride was increasingly turning into a game of chance. At some point they would encounter a downdraft that would retain its strength all the way to the ground. They would not be able to react quickly enough, the balloon would burst, and the cabin would crash.

They would not reach the Venusian surface, because the air pressure would have crushed the cabin beforehand.

“Ethan, I think that’s enough. We can cover the rest of the distance with the AVs.”

Nuria had probably been thinking along the same line as he’d been, Erik figured.

Ethan looked at her. “Perhaps you’re right. I hate losing fellow astronauts. Even if they work for another agency.”

Ethan closed his eyes.

Had Ethan ever had to leave a teammate behind? Erik wondered. Their pilot had never mentioned anything like that.

“We should let the AVs jump off, and we should then retreat to a quieter area,” Nuria said.

“Okay.”

Erik straightened up. He reached for the headset he needed to control his AV. The cabin swung back and forth with such force that he missed. He succeeded on the third attempt. He donned the helmet and made himself comfortable.

He found himself standing on the roof of the cabin and looking into a thick fog. He wouldn’t have noticed the storm if the cabin below him wasn’t swinging back and forth. But his body easily counterbalanced to accommodate for that. It reminded him of the time on the ship in the Pacific Ocean when there had been swells after a storm.

“I’m ready,” he said.

Visibility was terrible, but the radar penetrated the clouds.

“I’ll display your destination,” Ethan said.

A flashing red dot appeared in his field of vision, about 60 kilometers to the north.

“How much time do we have?” Erik asked.

“An astronaut is already dead,” Nuria said, “so we don’t have any.”

“Time to complete the mission, I mean.”

“The spaceship will disappear beyond the horizon of the Russian base in two days.”

“Thanks, Ethan.”

Without the radio link to his mind, Erik’s AV was just a stupid empty shell. They thus had two days to save the world. No problem. Erik turned. Nuria’s AV was standing next to him, carrying a huge backpack. A human would collapse underneath its weight. That must be the analyzer.

“Well then, let’s go,” he said.

* * *

Nuria started to run. Then she jumped and he followed her. They were in free fall. The dense atmosphere slowed their fall. Nevertheless, from time to time Erik had to slow down his AV with the help of the jetpack. Otherwise the outer skin would have become too hot. The distance to their destination shrank, one kilometer at a time. But they would reach the Venusian surface before reaching the NASA base.

“Do you see that?” Nuria asked.

An orange circle appeared in his field of vision. A volcanic caldera lay between them and their destination.

“We should swerve westward. Otherwise we’ll have to walk through that on foot,” he said.

“I would propose that, too, but it would take us two more hours.”

Would? Had Nuria just purposely used the subjunctive mood? “That’s still better than a hike across the crater. So are we going to change course?” he asked.

“Two hours, Erik. Two hours! That can mean the difference between life and death. I do not want to be two hours late.”

She was right. It was enough if one of them reached their destination. His real body was safe aboard the spaceship. This was just a machine. But hadn’t he been the daredevil in the past, and Nuria the level-headed, more cautious one? He must stop being such a coward.

* * *

Nuria landed first. The weight of her backpack drove her forward so that she stumbled several times. Erik hurried. He touched down beside her, grasped her shoulder to steady her, and took off her backpack.

Another 20 kilometers. They should be able to manage that in less than an hour, if not for the volcano in front of them. However, it did not look particularly impressive at close quarters, probably because it was not a mighty mountain like some volcanoes on Earth, but only a shapeless hill. A lava flow was oozing from the slope facing them.

“Let’s run,” Ethan said.

Nuria tightened the backpack on Erik’s AV, then began to run. He remained beside her. After ten minutes, they reached the lava flow. It was only about 100 meters wide.

“The jetpacks can get us across this,” he said.

“But we must use them sparingly. We still have to make it back to the spaceship with their help,” Nuria said.

Nuria started her jetpack and landed safely on the other side a few seconds later. He needed a little longer, as the backpack made it difficult for him to steer.

They ran toward the destination. In front of them lay the volcano, a chunk of solidified lava.

“Should we fly?” Erik asked.

“Then we’ll be left with too little fuel. You use a lot more with the backpack.”

“Let’s run, then. Wait, I’ll attach a rope to you.”

The surface of the volcano was relatively cool at 800 to 900 degrees, but they thought there could be unstable areas. If the material were to break under their weight, their legs could become mired in hot lava, and they would have to pull each other out of the molten rock.

Nuria nodded. They began to run with big steps. They needed to climb up a hill that was about 300 meters high. Erik oriented himself. Where did it look the most stable? They must not stand still. He chose a route and pulled Nuria along after him.

They succeeded—the solidified lava did not give way beneath them. Now there was only the plateau between them and the Russian base.

* * *

“There it is.” Erik pointed at the base. They had already known that someone was there. There were excavations, and as they moved ahead they encountered a lone robot, which was apparently removing waste material.

“Do you see what I’m seeing?” Nuria asked.

Yes, he could see it. A figure slightly larger than a human was standing in front of the airlock leading to the base. Erik and Nuria approached it. It was a bulky spacesuit, made especially to withstand the Venusian pressure, and bore some resemblance to the AVs. But it was radically different. There was no machine inside, but a human being.

A dead man. That must be Peter.

“You on the right, me on the left,” Nuria said.

They lifted the spacesuit. It was no problem for the two of them. The limbs did not move—something must have locked them. Erik tried to look through the helmet, but the glass was dark. He was a bit relieved, because he had feared having to look into a dead man’s open-eyed stare.

The airlock was huge, apparently designed especially for robots. Nuria, Erik with the backpack, and Peter in his pressure suit easily fit into it.

“Marchenko, open the door, please,” Nuria said.

“Wait, I’m filling the airlock. Thank you for coming. But I fear you’re too late. Let me warn you, you will find Maria right next to the airlock door. I’m no longer receiving signs of life from her.”

“Understood,” Nuria said.

* * *

The airlock opened. Nuria rushed to Maria, who was right next to the airlock door, on the floor as Marchenko had described. She did not move, not even when Nuria checked her reactions.

“You take care of Peter, and I’ll take care of Maria,” she cried.

Erik scanned the pressure suit. You should be able to open the thing somehow from the outside, shouldn’t you? “Marchenko, can you open Peter’s suit?” he pleaded.

“No, it’s deactivated from the inside, so I have no way of doing that.”

Erik felt the suit, but found no mechanical openings. It must be fully motorized. Given the weight of the suit and the requirements it had to meet, that made sense, but now it was impractical. He would have to manually cut open this tin can to get Peter out of it. He hoped they had replacement suits, because this suit would no longer be useable.

“I’ll take Maria to the emergency unit,” Nuria said.

Erik took a laser knife out of the tool bag. He measured the thickness of the suit’s shell and modified the blade length. Then he started at the feet. He freed Peter from the suit little by little. The body was still surprisingly warm, as if it had been heated. But the blood circulation had stopped, and there was no measurable heartbeat. Peter must have been in this condition for a long time, so Erik decided to forego a resuscitation attempt. He reached the head, cutting the helmet at the side. The visor might otherwise splinter into pieces.

Then Peter lay in front of him. The corpse looked fresh. Shouldn’t decay have set in a while ago, since it had been two days? He had measured oxygen and water vapor in the suit and found the ideal conditions for bacteria. He carried the dead man to the laboratory, where Nuria was looking after Maria. She had given her an infusion.

“She’s very dehydrated, but she’s alive,” Nuria said.

He placed Peter’s corpse in the only available space, beside Maria’s body. The laboratory was not set up for such a situation.

“Then why was Marchenko unable to see any signs of life?” he asked.

“Her blood circulation had slowed down a lot, like in the case of a hibernating bear. Her heart still beat once every two minutes.”

“And the brain?”

“That worries me the most. Humans were not made for hibernation. Without oxygen, our brain cells die.”

“You mean, Maria is—”

“Yes, we have to be prepared for that.”

Erik looked at Peter. It was hard to believe that he was supposedly dead. He seemed almost more alive than Maria, who was still unconscious and might stay that way forever.

He switched the scanner on again. The body showed no signs of decay. The blood vessels had their usual diameter, and the blood was circulating. Peter’s blood was circulating! Could that be due to shifting him from a vertical to a horizontal position? No, that was not possible, the effect would have subsided long ago.

“An infusion! Quick!” he shouted.

Nuria did not hesitate. She freed Peter’s right arm, placed the needle in it, and hooked him up to the machine. Only then did she ask why.

“His blood seems to be circulating again,” Erik said. “I made a terrible mistake. I should have revived him immediately.”

“No, Erik, he had not displayed any vital signs for a long time,” Marchenko said over the speaker system. “That would not have worked.”

“Marchenko’s right,” Nuria said. “I think it’s the parasites.”

“What do you mean?”

“They placed their hosts into survival mode as the hosts’ condition deteriorated.”

“That sounds plausible,” Erik said. “But do you know what that means for Maria and Peter, if we provide them with all the necessities of life again?”

“Yes. The parasites will take them over again. But I will prevent that. If you take care of the two bodies, I’ll use the analyzer to make effective antibodies.”

“I hope you succeed,” Erik said.

“Unfortunately, we did not have an analyzer in the base. Simply tell me what I need to do,” Marchenko said. “I will help in any way I can.”

If the parasites did not keep their brains fully alive as well, we might need your consciousness, Erik thought.

June 19, 2079, Venus Base

“I need blood,” said the female-looking robot that its fellow robot called Nuria.

Marchenko followed their every step by camera. He was so glad that they had made it here. He had never seen the two people who controlled the autonomous units, and that was unlikely to ever change.

“So I’m supposed to play vampire,” replied the other AV. “Maria’s or Peter’s?”

“It doesn’t matter, just hurry. In less than twenty-four hours, the spaceship will be out of reach. By then we must have solved the problem.”

“Maybe you should start with Maria. She seems to be a bit better off,” Marchenko recommended.

The robot named Erik turned to Maria and drew her blood. Nuria divided the sample.

“What happens next?” Erik asked.

“I will first perform a serum protein electrophoresis,” Nuria explained, while swiftly and calmly working on the machine they had brought with them. “The blood plasma proteins will be separated according to their differing physical properties. The gamma globulin fraction is of special interest to us, because that’s where the antibodies are.”

“And how will you identify the antibodies the two have formed against the parasites here?”

“We’re unlikely to find specific antibodies to the parasites. That’s why I’m just looking for the IgM antibodies, the antibodies that are part of the body’s primary immune response to a novel infection,” Nuria said.

“What about the genome of these parasites?”

“That’s difficult,” Nuria said. “Normally, I would try to amplify the DNA using a polymerase chain reaction. But that won’t work here, because I have no idea what ingredients the solution needs to have.”

“Because the beings are so alien?”

“To replicate the DNA strands, the solution must include the constituents from which the strands are formed. On Earth the constituents are the compounds adenine, cytosine, guanine, and thymine. But this is a completely different sulfur-based life form. Our DNA bases contain hydrogen, carbon, nitrogen, and oxygen. No trace of sulfur!”

“Could you perhaps continue with this training unit later? The analyzer is ready,” Marchenko said. This Nuria seemed to be a scientist with all her heart and soul, and he found that very likable, but now he would rather see her concentrate on the mission.

“Is there anything in RB’s databases that could help us? Any shortcut can be valuable,” Nuria said. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“I’ve already tried that,” Marchenko answered. “But the research is prolonged because of the signal propagation time. Select database, wait six minutes for the startup screen to arrive. Enter login data, wait six minutes until the directory tree appears. And so on. And the data transfer rate is extremely low.”

“I see,” Nuria said. “We’re just at the beginning and could make use of any flashes of inspiration. The parasite’s data alone doesn’t tell me enough.”

“I have an idea,” Marchenko said. “Once you have gathered the antibody and cell structure data, we can send the information to RB. They have large biological and biochemical departments, and almost limitless computing power.”

He had not yet asked Valentina for this favor, but he was certain she would ensure that all RB’s resources were made available to help them. Was that a problem for the NASA people?

“Of course, only if you’re okay with that,” the AI added.

“Yes,” Nuria said. That’s an excellent idea. The only remaining problem is how to make the required amount of serum.”

“I can program our base’s nanofabricators to accomplish that. They will then produce the serum.”

“It’s not that easy,” Nuria said. “If the fabricators make a liquid serum, it will mix with the liquid they float in, and we will have to separate the two liquids. That may impair the effectiveness of the serum, if we manage to create it at all.”

“RB’s nanofabricators move freely. They are not bound to a liquid. That makes our job much easier here.”

Marchenko knew that Nuria and Erik would find his answer unsettling. All international treaties stated that nanomachines must only be allowed to work in a special liquid, which was meant to prevent their uncontrolled spreading.

“You can’t be serious, Marchenko,” Erik said.

“It was not my decision.”

“Then RB has once again violated international treaties.”

“No, the RB variant abides by the treaties, but it differs from what is the international custom.”

“I don’t understand this,” Erik said.

“The treaties state,” explained Marchenko, “that the nanofabricators must not pose a threat to the environment, and that humans must be able to control them at all times.”

“And that’s why they are supposed to only work in a liquid,” Nuria interrupted him.

“That is one option. Another is that the nanofabricators destroy themselves when they receive a certain signal sequence. That is how RB abides by the treaty.”

Neither Nuria nor Erik answered. It was evident to Marchenko that he had not persuaded them—because the RB variant was unquestionably more dangerous. Human beings could intervene, but only if they noticed that the nanomachines were running amok.

Nuria turned around and returned to operating the analyzer. “I will make cell cultures from both astronauts’ blood,” she explained. “Before we inject Peter and Maria with the serum, I want to make sure it will work the way we want it to.”

“Thank you, Nuria,” Marchenko said. “That’s what I wanted to suggest, too.”

She made no reply.

Then the AI said, “Erik, are you interested in taking a closer look at the being’s shell in the meantime? If you go out through the other airlock, you will come to the wall area we unearthed for our research purposes.”

June 20, 2079, Venusian Surface

Erik climbed slowly up the ramp. Marchenko had given them more information about the wall that his robots had uncovered. He had almost seemed enthusiastic. Was it because the AI had a special rapport with extraterrestrial life? Erik only vaguely remembered the story from his time in training, not being fond of studying history. They had covered the milestones of space travel, which of course included the Enceladus expedition from almost 30 years ago.

Erik brushed the wall with his fingers. He felt the small indented lines that formed pentagons. He and Nuria had already found something similar soon after they landed. But his enthusiasm for the discovery was gone. The alien cells had entered the bodies of two humans as parasites, and if they could not find an antidote, both hosts were going to die.

He looked at the ancient patterns. He could not be angry with the parasites. Like himself, they were just trying to survive. Still, Nuria’s serum would have to kill the parasites if Peter and Maria were to survive. But, what if extraterrestrials landed on Earth and developed an allergy to humans? Would he sympathize with the strangers, if they solved their problem by destroying humanity? Of course not. And here, humans were the aliens who had invaded a foreign habitat.

It was just after midnight Moscow time. He looked at the sky. The sun was barely visible as it slowly made its way to the horizon. When it passed that line, night would fall, but that did not bother him much. What was worse was that the spaceship would soon be disappearing beyond the horizon. RB had begun processing Nuria’s data in their system on Earth hours ago. Even for a quantum computer, the task was not easy to solve. What kind of structure and composition must an antibody have in order to detect and recognize the foreign cells and render them harmless?

An AI needed to continually invent new variations and then test them against the parasites in extensive simulations. They needed to be sure—it was essential that not a single parasitic organism be left behind. They must avoid causing a catastrophic pandemic on Earth.

“Spaceship to ground crew,” Ethan radioed. “Any news?”

“We’re still awaiting the results,” Erik replied.

“Okay. I will do what I can to give you some extra time. I’ll look for a current that doesn’t move so rapidly, but I can’t just stop.”

“I know, Ethan. How many hours do we have left?”

“Five. No more.”

* * *

Erik entered the airlock and closed the exterior hatch. Hot gas at a temperature of 900 degrees flowed into the chamber. This lasted only a few minutes and didn’t bother him, its purpose being to denature the sulfur compounds in the alien cells. It ensured that he didn’t bring any additional parasites into the base. Marchenko had purposefully tinkered with the airlock software. However, the interior rooms were still contaminated. If they managed to save Maria and Peter, they needed to make sure prior to departure that they weren’t taking even a single pathogen with them.

He raised his arms so that the gas could work on his AV’s whole body.

“RB sent us a design,” Nuria reported via radio.

Her voice sounded strained. She evidently knew, even better than he did, that a design that was effective in simulations might not work the same in the real world.

“The nanofabricators—”

“—are already at work,” Nuria interrupted, finishing his thought

“How—”

“Three hours.”

They understood each other completely. Three hours. That would be cutting it a little close, but then they still would have about two hours left. The hot gas was suctioned off again. Oxygen-rich air flowed into the airlock, then the inner door opened.

* * *

“I’m adding the antibodies to the cell cultures now,” Nuria explained.

“How will you know that it’s working?” Erik asked.

“First of all, they should survive. And if I then add sulfur to the nutrient fluid, nothing should change. No excessive growth, but instead, we’ll witness a tendency to shrink.”

Erik looked at Nuria, who was very focused and working on a sample within the analyzer. The fact that the parasites were so dangerous did not seem to scare her. Then he remembered that he and Nuria weren’t really there.

“First step successful,” Nuria said.

He put a hand on her shoulder, but she shook it off.

“It’s too early to celebrate,” she said.

She once again did something inside the machine. She propped herself up and stared into the glass window, then spun around and stamped her foot.

Dammit. He did not need her to speak. The foot stomp said enough.

“Second step not successful. The sulfur is stimulating cell growth.”

“I need the data,” Marchenko said.

Erik looked at the time display and saw they had an hour and a half left. It was too late. If they waited another three hours, no one would be there to inject Peter and Maria with the remedy.

Nuria bent over, almost as if she had to vomit. But an AV couldn’t do that. “Wait,” she said, “I’ll scan it.” She pressed a few buttons and a blue light appeared. “That’s for you, Marchenko,” Nuria said. “RB should hurry this time.”

“I’m already transferring the data to Earth,” Marchenko said. “ I can see that we are on the right path. The number of parasites initially decreased, but then rose again.”

“The things resisted,” Nuria noted. “They changed. We must prevent that. The antibodies have to strike everywhere at the same time. RB has to place more emphasis on the reaction speed in the simulations.”

“Yes, I will send them your comments as well,” Marchenko said.

“We still have a huge problem,” Erik said.

“I know. The connection to the spaceship,” Marchenko said. “I don’t think we will have new antibodies in an hour and a half.”

“What about the household robot?” Erik asked.

“It is taking too long to repair Katarina.”

“Can’t you materialize out of the computer, Marchenko?”

“The technology is not that advanced yet. However, there is a way we can perhaps save Peter and Maria.” The AI hesitated. “But I’m sure you won’t like it.”

“Uh-oh, you want to take over our AVs—NASA will be immeasurably furious about that! It’s their latest technology, and we’ll be revealing all its secrets to the RB Group,” Erik remarked.

“Does this mean you’re against it? Please, Erik? Please, Nuria? This is about the lives of two people, not about politics.”

“I’m not saying that,” Erik said. “The RB Group should commit itself to immediately and publicly forego the use of nanofabricators that are not in a truly-compliant liquid suspension. In return, we’ll give you access to the AVs.”

The NASA bosses would grind their teeth over this deal, Erik knew, but they would not kick him out for it—he hoped. RB’s lax interpretation of nanomachine laws was a considerable threat that might be thwarted by forcing RB to fully comply with the spirit of the international agreements regarding nanos.

“Good idea, Erik,” Nuria said.

“Valentina might bite the nearest tabletop, but she’ll agree,” Marchenko said. “It’s a diplomatic masterpiece, I must add. Valentina, however, will call it blackmail, so I would advise you to avoid travel to Russia for as long as she’s alive, Erik.”

“I have no intention of ever going there.”

* * *

“RB’s new antibody design is already here,” Nuria called out.

Well, that was quick! Erik thought. Simulation and transmission took just 80 minutes. The AI must already be well trained to solve the problem. The next designs would probably be ready even more quickly.

But Maria and Peter needed more than that. The nanofabricators could only now start their work. He and Nuria would not be around to see the completion of the serum with the antibodies.

“Marchenko, it’s time to transfer the logs to you.”

“Thank you, you two.”

Erik enabled external access to his AV. As soon as he relinquished control, Marchenko would be able to take over the autonomous unit via radio. He wondered how it must feel to be in two bodies at the same time. He had always wanted to ask Nuria to give him control for a moment. Now Marchenko would be the first to try this out.

Erik imagined thousands of AVs, all controlled by Marchenko. That would be an army! They would all know each other’s thoughts. They could rely on each other entirely. Fortunately, AVs were so expensive that they were not yet of interest to the military.

Nuria was standing in front of him. “Erik? We have to leave.” The phrase she used sounded funny, as if they had to leave the base. But the AVs would remain there.

“Will we meet again?” Erik asked.

“I don’t know,” Marchenko answered. “I’m not dependent on our ship, the Strelka. Maybe when everyone’s left I’ll clean up a bit here. But you could ask RB if the Strelka could take you along. That would enable you to return to Earth much earlier. There is enough space.”

“We’ll think about that when Maria and Peter are well again,” Nuria said.

“The offer stands, even if the attempt fails. Especially in such a case. They might recover, but still carry around a parasitic burden. Then I’d have to make sure they stay here on Venus forever.”

“I would not envy you having to undertake such a task, Marchenko,” Erik said. “Let’s hope that won’t be necessary.”

“Good luck and all the best!” Nuria said.

* * *

Erik awoke on his couch aboard the spaceship. He was sweaty, the cabin swinging in a storm.

“Good luck, Marchenko,” he murmured.

June 20, 2079, Venus Base

The AV straightened up, staggered, and steadied itself again. It carefully took its first steps and raised its arms. Marchenko had taken control and was practicing handling the machines. He needed to master control of the AVs up to the level of fine motor skills. He needed to do this before the manufacture of the serum by the nanofabricators—otherwise he would not be able to inject the serum. Marchenko recalled his former life. He had administered so many injections that he could have done it in his sleep.

“Well done!” he said aloud to himself. The AV had managed to draw water up into a syringe. It was strange to hear one’s voice over the microphones in the walls. The speech synthesis was flawless. It was based on the self-image of his own voice. As a result, the AVs didn’t speak like Erik and Nuria, but like Marchenko.

The AI improved his mastery over the AV with each passing minute. Ten minutes later, Marchenko had reached a level of mastery that gave him faith in his ability to carry out the tasks he must soon perform.

The second AV rose and immediately had the same capabilities as the first robot. He let one AV get the amount of serum needed for a test.

“Let us begin,” he said. The AV, the model that Nuria had controlled, dribbled the serum onto the cell culture. Marchenko observed how things developed. The serum was thin and spread quickly over the culture. At first nothing transpired, but then things happened very rapidly. In a few seconds, the walls of the cells broke open and the contents merged into a pulp.

He waited for a while and then added sulfur. After ten minutes nothing had occurred, except that the mush changed color from the addition. The serum had done its job impeccably. Marchenko fervently hoped that RB had also simulated how well the human body tolerated the serum.

Meanwhile, enough serum had been manufactured to heal a person. Marchenko let Erik’s AV draw up the serum into the syringe.

“Hungry!” Peter shouted loudly and imperiously.

“Hello, Peter. Did you sleep well?”

Peter was alive! And the parasites had evidently preserved his brain function. But he did not seem to be the same person. He jumped up and tried to push aside the other AV standing next to his couch.

The robot reacted quickly. It stabilized itself and prepared to go on the offensive. A human running amok stood no chance against such a machine.

“Let me go!” Peter cried, but Marchenko, in the shape of the second AV, did not yield a millimeter.

“You’ll feel better soon,” the first AV said in Marchenko’s voice as it injected the serum.

But nothing happened.

“Ahhhh!”

A bloodcurdling scream came from Peter’s mouth. His body went limp.

“Peter?”

Silence.

“Peter!”

“Yes,” he mumbled as he opened his eyes.

The AVs released him and took a step back. Peter straightened his upper body with difficulty.

“I feel completely drained, but nevertheless well.”

“Thank goodness your brain is working again!” Marchenko exclaimed. His relieved laughter sounded through the speakers.

Peter fell onto the couch. “How is Maria?” he asked.

“We have to wait until there’s enough serum for her dose. Then we can cure her, too. Would you like something to eat or drink?”

“It would be nice to have a glass of water.”

Erik’s AV handed him a jug, and Peter gulped down its contents.

Maria was babbling, half-asleep. “Can somebody help me?”

Peter sat up with the help of an AV and carefully stretched. Then he stood up and went to Maria. One of her thumbs was in her mouth. He pulled it out and caressed her head.

“She will soon be back to normal,” Marchenko said.

“Where’s Katarina?” Peter asked. “And what kind of robots are these?”

“As soon as Maria is well again, I’ll write up a report about the last few days. Then you will understand all the connections. And now, first eat something!”

An AV had placed a selection of food from the fridge on the table. Peter sat down and ate.

“Try the dried fruit!”

“Those shrunken things might serve as emergency provisions, but otherwise that stuff will not get on my plate.”

* * *

A long-drawn-out whimper showed that the serum had worked on Maria, too. There were beads of sweat on her forehead. When she opened her eyes she said, “Peter?”

He got up and went to her. “Yes, I’m here. How are you?”

“Not sure. Exhausted.”

“What’s your last name?” Marchenko asked. Although he was already sure that Maria’s brain was working, he wanted to play it safe.

“Maria Kuznetsova, but you know that, Marchenko.”

Instead of answering, Marchenko let the AVs dance a waltz. The music played in the quantum computer, imperceptible to humans.

As soon as Marchenko realized that, he turned on the speakers. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am!” he said while the music played in the background.

“It’s hard to miss,” Peter said, grinning. “May I have this dance, Maria?”

“In principle, yes, but I can’t dance yet. Will you bring me a drink?”

Peter filled a glass at the water dispenser and gave it to her. “A few pieces of dried fruit?” he asked.

Maria nodded. But a short while after she began to chew, she spat the leftovers onto the plate. “They taste awful! Something else, please.”

* * *

Maria and Peter looked at the report summarizing the events of the past few days.

“What did these parasites do to us?” Peter asked. “Are these pathogens intelligent?”

“Not really,” Maria answered quietly. “I think they just tried to satisfy their own needs with what our bodies offered them.”

“But isn’t it a damned coincidence that man, of all things, can serve as a host?”

Maria propped up her elbows on the table and rested her head on her hands. “The structures we discovered show that these single-celled organisms form huge colonies,” she said. “They don’t depend on other organisms to form their colonies. So, they’re not parasites after all.”

“But based on the records, I have a different impression.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Peter. But let’s consider this objectively. The unicellular organisms have no opportunity to multiply. Presumably, the temperature is to blame, or the atmosphere, or the pressure, or some combination of the three. And suddenly they have the opportunity to come to life again. Any living thing would take advantage of such a chance!”

Marchenko admired how dispassionately Maria viewed the issue, and he knew that it would be better for everyone if she and Peter dealt with their trauma themselves. That was why he chose to remain silent.

“Then they could have just grown in the base, not in us!” Peter contradicted.

“Maybe they are thermophilic single-celled organisms. Bacteria like that exist on Earth. They can withstand very high temperatures, but cannot multiply at temperatures that are either too high or too low. There is an optimal temperature at which they reproduce. Maybe the conditions in the base were good, but the temperature was too low. So they took us over because our body temperature is much higher.”

“Hmmm,” Peter murmured. “The fact the ‘sulfur critters’ ran the calibration sequence when they took over our bodies—which included testing the temperature range our bodies can withstand—supports that theory. But, I still say they’re damned parasites!” he said, emphatically crossing his arms.

“Can we agree on the term ‘facultative parasites’ for them?” Maria asked. “There are some creatures like that on Earth, too, by the way. Blowflies, for one example, whose larvae can, if necessary, live under the skin of mammals, although—”

“Thanks, I’ve heard enough!” Peter said. “Perhaps you’ll tell me next that there are also unicellular organisms on Earth that survive for millions of years.”

“They do exist!” Maria replied. “Some species of rod-shaped bacteria from the genus Bacillus survived inactive for 250 million years and then revived again.”

“Anyway,” Peter said, “we are facing a big problem. As long as we cannot ensure our complete decontamination, we cannot return to Earth.”

June 21, 2079, Venusian Atmosphere

Charles was yelling into the microphone. “You left the AVs at the RB base?”

Erik had never witnessed their commander so angry. But he understood him. The AVs were NASA’s pride and joy, and as the chief of mission, they would hold him responsible for their loss. If he was unlucky, he would never return to space, because NASA would assign him to some office job until he quit of his own accord.

“It’s only for two days,” Nuria said. “If we had not stayed until the very last second, the two Russians would have died.”

Charles didn’t answer. Meanwhile, no one else dared to say anything.

“Okay, I suppose I might have done the same thing if I had been in your place. But was it necessary to even grant the Russian AI access to the AVs? Now they have all the data they need to recreate them.”

“Yes, it was necessary. The nanofabricators were still synthesizing the antidote, and the victims needed someone to inject it,” Nuria said. “And the AI is only that—an AI. But I don’t think your superiors will give you a tough time.”

“Oh, really?”

“We found out that RB has been using nanofabricators that are not kept in a suspension. In return for our help, they have pledged to cease this practice.”

“Oh, so you just prevented nanomachines from taking over the world.”

“You could say that, Charles. And besides, Marchenko has offered us the opportunity to fly back to Earth on their ship, the Strelka. We can be home in a third of the time!”

Charles didn’t answer. Erik had an inkling why. Would any commander like to give up his ship?

“We do not have to give up Venus Air,” Nuria said. She had also guessed what was making Charles hesitate.

“It can fly behind us in automatic mode. Without us it will fly even faster, because then it doesn’t have to take us into consideration when accelerating or decelerating.”

“Yes, it’s going to leave us in the dust when we launch, my little ship,” Charles said, “although we will catch up with it.”

“Does this mean you agree to our plan?” Erik asked. If Charles approved of the plan, they would have good cards in their hands when dealing with NASA.

“Yes. But there is a problem. If I interpret your report correctly, an infection broke out down there,” Charles said. “Everything coming from below is thus potentially contaminated. If the danger is not safely eliminated, the two Russians will never be allowed to set foot on Earth again. I assume that we have complied with safety standards?”

“Don’t worry, Charles,” Nuria said. “We came here to look for life. That’s why our equipment is BSL-4 certified.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Charles replied. “That was what NASA had been particularly proud of—the first Biosafety Level 4 lab aboard a spaceship. I wonder how the Russians could be so naive.”

“Oh, I was down there, Charles,” Erik said, “and I can tell you, there’s no grass growing at 460 degrees and over 90 bar. That’s the impression you get from your very first step on Venusian soil. I can’t blame RB for having thought that life couldn’t exist on the surface.”

“Okay, I’ll finish my report for the bosses. How long will they need down there to fix their problems?”

“No idea,” Nuria said. “We have no contact at the moment. I hope to know more tomorrow.”

June 21, 2079, Venus Base

Maria had retired to her quarters to lie down.

Peter was tired, too, but he couldn’t sleep. Would they really need to spend the rest of their lives in this cave? Wouldn’t it be better to die a quick death? “Marchenko, how high is the probability that we will achieve complete decontamination?”

“For you two personally, I think the probability is very high. But I’m not sure if we can decontaminate the base. Then there’s also the pressure suits that you have to wear until you reach the lander. They, too, must be completely clean. And then there’s Katarina, if you don’t want to leave her behind. All of this wouldn’t be a problem if this life form were big enough that you could see it with the naked eye, but it’s only a few dozen micrometers in diameter.”

It was indeed a problem. They needed to nab every single cell.

“We have a blacklight lamp in the workshop. Maybe the pathogens will shine in that light, and Katarina will be able to see them with her sensors?” he suggested.

“That would definitely be worth a try.”

Peter went to the workshop. He found the blacklight lamp in a box and sat down with it at the microscope. “Marchenko, please turn the lights off.”

It became pitch dark. Peter shone a special lamp into a dish with cultures and examined the result through the microscope. He saw nothing.

“You can turn the light back on!”

“And?” Marchenko asked.

“Negative. What other options do we have? At what temperature do these critters break down?”

“Our colleagues at NASA experimented with their samples before sending the AVs to us. The structures are destroyed at temperatures between 800 and 850 degrees. I can heat the base to 900 degrees. But we would have to pump out all the oxygen so that we don’t accidentally ignite a large fire. Besides, neither my quantum computer nor the nanofabricators would survive, and Katarina would probably be irreversibly destroyed as well.”

“Dammit!”

“You said it.”

“And what if we use the nanofabricators to do the job?”

“We could have them search for material combinations found only in the pathogens. That should work. However, we would be breaking our agreement with our NASA colleagues.”

“Do we have a suitable suspension here, and are the nanofabricators already programmed to work only in such a fluid?”

“No.”

“Then we cannot implement the agreement. But the base is a minimal area in which the destructive sequence can reach all rooms with the necessary strength. Besides, Venus would ensure that the nanofabricators are destroyed. Therefore, we needn’t have a guilty conscience.”

It was a good thing that he had come up with these compelling arguments so quickly. After all, whether he and Maria could still lead a life, or whether they were to be buried alive in this bunker until the end of their days, depended upon this decision.

“You’re right, Peter. Besides, your life is more important than the agreement,” the AI said.

Peter smiled. Nowadays, it seemed Marchenko could even read thoughts.

“Rest for a while, Peter. Meanwhile, I will find out which material combinations in the pathogens are suitable for our purposes.”

* * *

Peter stretched. How long had he slept? He felt fit again. He placed his right foot down first, got out of bed, stood, and then went to take a shower. He carefully opened the valve and checked the temperature. It was perfect, but Peter made it a little warmer.

“Hey, who repaired the shower?”

Marchenko laughed. “Maria posed that question, too. But nobody changed anything. It was just that the parasites manipulated your perception. We will never know whether it was the water, or whether it was the dissolved oxygen in the water that they didn’t like. It’s nice that we soon won’t need to worry about that.”

“That sounds promising. Does this mean you were successful?”

“Yes, Peter. Take your shower first. Then we’ll talk about it.”

* * *

Peter, in a good mood, showered leisurely. It looked like everything would turn out fine after all. That was definitely a reason to be happy!

* * *

“Hello Maria, how are you feeling?”

“Very well. And you, too, evidently?”

Peter nodded and smiled, and Maria smiled back. He felt warmth spreading in his chest.

“I found suitable compounds, and have programmed the nanofabricators to synthesize them,” Marchenko said. “For this reason, I can, unfortunately, neither assign them to food production nor to repairing Katarina. Even so, they will need two days to complete the task.”

“Do we have enough food?” Peter asked.

“Yes, of course.”

“I’ll take care of Katarina,” Peter said. “After all, I broke her. I am so sorry. Has her shell already been decontaminated?”

“Not completely, yet. The best thing would be for you two to stay in your rooms in the meantime. Otherwise you will just be whirling up the pathogens. Once Katarina and her surroundings are clean, I’ll bring her to you.”

* * *

After an hour, there was a knock on Peter’s door. He got up and opened it. An AV was outside, carrying the body of the household robot in his arms. Peter beckoned him in and let him place Katarina on a table.

After the AV had left the room, Peter took VR glasses out of a box, put them on, and switched on repair mode. “Let’s see what I did,” he murmured.

The result of the analysis was sobering. Apparently, the internal computer was working again, but otherwise Peter received no information. He opened the robot and saw that some cables were torn. He had to smile. The nanofabricators had tried to make entirely new connections. That would take much longer, of course.

Peter simply replaced the cables with new ones. It was satisfying work, and he could see the fruits of his labor. Finally, the repair mode only noted the dented chest area, but that should not affect the functioning of the robot.

Peter closed the inspection openings and sat down on his bed. His hands were sweaty. What will Katarina say when she is switched back on? He smiled, noting his guilty conscience. It was a robot. And to be precise, it was not him, after all, who had done this to Katarina. He switched on the household robot.

Katarina moved and performed a self-test. She then sat up. When she saw Peter, she jumped up, ran to the door and out into the corridor, slammed the door behind her, and locked it. Peter grinned. He had never seen a robot panic.

“Stay here, Katarina! Marchenko, stop her and give her the report summarizing the last few days, please.”

“Of course.”

A minute later, the door opened, and Katarina re-entered his room.

“Hello, Peter! It’s great that you are well again. I’m so sorry I failed.”

“What do you mean, you failed?” Peter asked, astonished.

“I didn’t manage to protect you. Maybe you should be looking for a better robot.”

“You were great, Katarina, and I’m glad you’re in working order again,” he said, hugging his household robot. He felt the hard metal of her back under his fingers.

While looking over her shoulder, he saw Maria leave the bathroom. “Maria?”

“Yes?”

“What do you think of making the nanofabricators’ job easier?”

“How?”

“If you sleep in my room, they can decontaminate yours. I can sleep on the floor.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Maria said with a smile.

June 22, 2079, Venusian Atmosphere

“There is good news and bad news,” Charles said.

“Did you get a notice of dismissal?”

“Haha, Ethan, that’s not funny. I think they were seriously considering that.”

“Sorry, Chuck. Really?”

“They listed all the guidelines we’ve violated, and as commander, I’m held responsible for everything. But the business with the unconfined nanofabricators, that changed everything. Nuria and Erik, I don’t know who came up with the idea, but you saved all our asses with it.”

“Thank you, Charles,” Nuria said. “It was our joint idea.”

“One for all, and all for one, I like that,” Charles said. “I sincerely hope we can fly a mission together again. I have to admit that I was a bit skeptical at the beginning. But you did extremely well for two newbies.”

“Thanks,” Erik said.

“You don’t have to thank me, it was based on your own merit,” Charles said.

“I assume that was the good news,” Ethan said. “And what’s the bad news?”

“Our return flight on the Russian ship, the Strelka, is only permitted if they can guarantee that it is germ-free.”

“All right,” Ethan said. “That was to be expected. How are we supposed to verify that?”

“With the AVs. They’re still in the Russian base. If they detect even one alien cell, we cannot transfer to the Strelka.”

“In that case, we’ll just undertake a lengthier journey. We’ll get through that, too,” Erik said.

“True. Our problem would not be a big one. But the Russians would then have to stay here permanently. The Security Council has clearly spoken in favor of that. Even the Chinese have agreed.”

“The Security Council met to discuss us?” Nuria asked. “That’s exciting.”

“Oh, our faces are in every news broadcast,” Charles said. “Especially yours, Nuria, as you can imagine.”

Erik was calm. If all cameras were focused on his colleague, he would continue to have peace and quiet.

“I can’t really imagine that,” Nuria said.

“You can stay with the Russians. They’ll be happy to have company,” Ethan said.

“Ethan, once again, that’s not particularly funny,” Charles said. “Imagine spending the rest of your life in a cave on Venus.”

“Yes, I apologize. You’re right, of course. Nuria and Erik could turn a blind eye when they perform the inspection with the AVs.”

“So the parasites can come to Earth?” Nuria asked, a vertical crease forming on her forehead.

“Everything the AVs record will be analyzed by a special commission of the Security Council. The RB astronauts can only return if the commission gives them clearance,” Charles explained. “By the way, the AVs are staying there, too.”

Oh. Erik sank back into his seat. I’m supposed to leave my AV on Venus? What will happen to me? He had become so used to his ‘body double,’ which had given him a second self as ‘Superman.’ He could barely imagine a life as only himself. What special skills did he have, anyway?

Nuria placed her hand on his arm. “I, too, can hardly imagine saying goodbye to my AV.”

June 22, 2079, Venus Base

The door to Peter’s bedroom opened suddenly. Peter sat upright in bed, startled, and Maria instinctively pulled the blanket up to her neck.

“Breakfast!” Katarina exclaimed. The robot placed food and drinks on the table. “Bon appétit!”

“I guess I’ll have to make some changes to the sensitivity and tact module,” Peter drowsily murmured after Katarina had left the room.

“It’s just a robot,” Maria said. She stood up and wrapped herself in the blanket. “Let’s have breakfast before the tea gets cold.”

“Hey!” Peter exclaimed, laughing as he suddenly found himself sitting on the bed in his birthday suit.

Maria turned around. “Oh, wait a moment.” She brought the blanket back to the bed, gave Peter a kiss, and walked naked to the table. “That’s better,” she said, placing the second chair next to the first one. “Can you bring the blanket with you?”

Peter laid the blanket over both chairs. Shortly thereafter, they were both sitting side by side, wrapped in the warm blanket. Peter enjoyed feeling Maria’s body so close to his.

“Delicious,” Maria said. Then she placed the rest of her blini in Peter’s mouth. “I could get used to the household robot. Are we keeping it?”

“I think so,” Peter replied, who still vividly remembered the expression on Maria’s face when he had hugged the robot.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Maria said.

Peter held her hand and looked at her. She was stunning. “I...” Words failed him.

“I know,” she said, caressing his hair.

Peter stood up. The blanket slipped down. He embraced Maria and they kissed.

* * *

Peter could hear the water running a short time later. He continued to eat till he was satiated, lost in thought.

“Can I clear the leftovers?” Katarina asked.

Peter was startled by her. He had not heard her coming. “Of course!”

“It was about time, too, with you two,” Katarina said. “It was unbearable how you two crept around each other. You humans urgently need to improve upon interpersonal communication.”

“Getting tips on my love life from a robot is unusual,” Peter said with a hearty laugh. “By the way, Maria is impressed by your cooking skills.”

Maria returned.

“Stop,” Katarina said. “Your room is ready. You will find decontaminated clothing there. Your old clothes will remain in Peter’s room.”

Then she looked at Peter. “I’ll bring fresh clothes for you to Maria’s room.”

* * *

Peter entered Maria’s cabin according to the robot’s instructions. Maria was already packing. There was a deck of playing cards on the table, which she had probably unpacked.

He looked at the pattern on the back of the box with the cards. “The diamonds!” he said.

“What do you mean?” Maria asked.

“The stones are the real reason why we are here.”

“Oh. We don’t have to worry about that. The RB robots will bring them to the lander, and they will be transported on our flight... Oh, I see. But I would imagine they aren’t contaminated, right?”

“The rough diamonds were never in the base, not even near it. But what if one of the mining robots dug up some diamonds next to one of the structures? There are evidently lots of those structures. I’m afraid we will have to leave the diamonds here.”

“Valentina will not like that,” Maria said.

Peter nodded. “But she will have to accept it.”

“Still, it’s a pity about the stones.”

“I have an idea,” Peter said. “Marchenko?”

“Yes, Peter?”

“You said you could heat the airlocks to nine hundred degrees, and the pathogens would then die off?”

“That’s right. Why?”

“We also have to decontaminate the diamonds.”

“They would not survive such treatment. They burn at eight hundred degrees. We can’t do that.”

“But only if there is oxygen present.”

Marchenko laughed. “You got me there. I was thinking in terms of conditions on Earth. A temperature of nine hundred degrees in an atmosphere without oxygen is not critical.”

“You simply need to rinse the airlock several times with the Venusian atmosphere, let the robots place the open boxes in there, and heat the diamonds vigorously. That should eliminate every last parasite.”

“Agreed. I will order two robots to decontaminate the diamonds in the airlock. They will then complete the work that needs to be done, including loading the lander.”

Peter nodded. Again, an unexpected problem had been solved. He hoped they had not forgotten anything else.

“Peter,” Marchenko said, “I am very embarrassed about not having included the outdoor area in the risk assessment. It’s a good thing that you thought of it! I’ll recheck the whole delivery chain, every item that will enter the spaceship.”

“No problem!” Peter said. “It’s always nice to see that even sophisticated AIs aren’t perfect.”

“In the final analysis, I’m just human, too, as you can tell by now.”

June 23, 2079, Venusian Atmosphere

“It works!”

Nuria was standing in front of the analyzer, happy as a clam at high tide. Her joy was so contagious that Erik’s lousy mood vanished instantly. There was no reason for him to be grumpy, after all. They just needed to visit the base one more time, and then they would be returning to Earth in the Strelka with near-lightning speed. He should be happy.

“Come here. I’ll show you,” Nuria said, beckoning to him.

“Fortunately, we have a replacement device on board!” he said. “I’m glad that you insisted.”

“Just imagine, if we had found life in the clouds, and then the analyzer failed. It would have been a nightmare!” Nuria said.

In reality, the expedition turned out differently. They had found more alien life than they had wanted to. Now they had even been told to supervise the complete annihilation of that alien life in the Russian base.

“You can watch through the secondary viewer,” Nuria said.

She was proud of her work, and he didn’t begrudge her this sense of achievement. Erik stood in front of the glass window. Inside the analyzer were two arms that Nuria controlled from the outside.

“I’ve synthesized a compound that reacts violently with the oxygen in the air,” she explained, as she sprinkled a substance on the floor of the analyzer.

“But nothing is happening,” Erik said.

“At the moment, the interior does not contain any oxygen. Just a vacuum.”

“Okay.”

“Well, now I will let in some atmosphere,” Nuria said.

The dust was whirled up and then settled again. Again, nothing happened. Erik suppressed the urge to comment. His colleague knew what she was doing, no doubt.

“Good,” Nuria said. “That’s how it’s supposed to be. Now I will open the sample container that you filled with the help of the AV.” She reached for the cylinder with the robot arms and screwed it open. “That was only open for three seconds,” Nuria said. “That should be enough to release a few cells of the Venus life form. Now look.”

Amazing. Something was happening near the sample container. The dust turned into a dense foam.

“The Venus life form’s cells function as a catalyst. When the catalyst is present, my compound reacts with atmospheric oxygen. As a result, the compound increases its volume a thousand-fold. If that happens, it’s an indication that the room is still contaminated.”

“Quite conclusive. Did you record it? We will ask NASA to evaluate the test, and then we can take over the AVs again. How do we take this stuff to the base?” asked Erik.

“We’ll just give them the recipe, and the Russians will make it themselves with their nanofabricators.”

* * *

Nuria was walking through the cabin of the spaceship, sprinkling a powder onto surfaces.

Erik had a notion of what she was up to.

“Nuria, what are you doing?” Ethan asked.

“What’s good for the goose is good for the gander,” she said. “We didn’t have any direct contact with the atmosphere, but maybe there’s a leak we didn’t notice. We have to find out if we are contaminated.”

“Okay, authorized,” Ethan said.

They had nothing to do at present because Earth was still busy evaluating Nuria’s testing method. Erik got up and followed his colleague. There was a thin film of dust on the floor. Foam wasn’t forming anywhere.

“Nothing’s happening,” he said. “Does that mean we’re safe?”

“We should wait a bit longer for the air circulation to carry the dust into every crevice. But it looks like we’re fine. We were cautious, after all. The analyzer is a level 4 laboratory.”

“That is reassuring.” Erik sat down again. But it was, nevertheless, a strange feeling. Suddenly there was a hissing sound behind him. He turned around abruptly and awkwardly craned his neck.

It was Ethan. He had just used the toilet.

“I think you can relax now, Erik,” Nuria said.

* * *

The message finally arrived from Earth five hours later. The procedure had been approved. It had taken a long time, CapCom said, because the Security Council had to agree.

Erik was on edge, because the connection to the AVs had been back for a while. They could have already started work some time ago, as Marchenko had indicated that his nanofabricators had made enough of Nuria’s dust.

His AV opened its eyes. Erik had to reorient himself. The AV was no longer where he had left the machine. But that was because Marchenko had used it, and that gave Erik a strange feeling. The AV was like a part of his own body. And now this part had been occupied for a short time by another consciousness. Erik needed to repossess the AV.

“Let’s begin,” Nuria said.

“The testing compound is in the kitchen,” Marchenko said.

There was a tub on the table, which was about half-filled with dust.

“Wait a minute,” Marchenko said.

Erik increased the magnification of the AV’s eyes and focused on the dust. His first impression had been correct—the surface seemed to be alive. That must be the nanomachines, because they weren’t visible to the naked eye. They moved toward the edge of the vessel. These were machines that worked without an emulsion. They violated all of Earth's treaties. But they could not have produced the control substance in any other fashion.

Erik didn’t say anything. As long as the fabricators remained in the base, there should be no problem. “Where are Peter and Maria?” he finally asked.

“They will stay in Maria’s room until you’re done here.”

“Okay,” Erik said. “They’ve recovered?”

“Yes, I have the impression that they are feeling better than ever.”

Erik smiled. He had a notion of what Marchenko meant.

“The testing compound is now clean,” Marchenko stated.

“Look what I found!” Nuria proclaimed. She was holding a vacuum cleaner in her hands. “This is perfect,” she said. “We just have to change the rotor’s direction of rotation, and then it will blow air instead of sucking it. I’ve already altered this one.”

Nuria handed Erik the battery-powered vacuum cleaner. He opened it, filled the container with dust from the tub, and closed it again. “I’ll start vacuuming,” he said.

“Marchenko, can you design an efficient route through the base that ends in Maria’s room?”

“Of course.”

Three seconds later, Erik’s AV received a route that he just needed to follow. He blew the highly reactive dust into all the corners of the base. At the end of the path, he met Nuria at the door to Maria’s room. “Did you observe any reactions?” he asked.

“I didn’t notice anything. But it’s too soon to celebrate.”

He opened the door. “Room service,” he said. Maria and Peter were sitting together on the bed, snuggled up to each other. The household robot was waiting in a corner.

Maria looked tired. The illness had taken its toll. But the way she looked at Peter was unequivocal.

“Bear with me. We’ll be fogging up the room for a while.”

Erik blew the rest of the dust into the room. The compound landed on the floor, the bed, the two humans, and the robot. Peter sneezed vigorously. Erik amplified his hearing, but the hissing sound of the reaction with atmospheric oxygen failed to materialize.

“Is that it? Are we clean?” Peter asked.

“Yes, ninety-nine percent,” Nuria replied. “Because of the remaining one percent, we must all now wait and see. Two hours should be long enough.”

June 23, 2079, Venus Base

Peter couldn’t stand just sitting around and waiting. He released Maria’s hand and got up. “Stand up for a moment,” he said.

Maria stood up, and Peter shook out the pillows and bedding. Dust rained onto the floor. He then rolled the bedclothes in the test substance and shook it out again. Nothing happened.

“Very thorough!” Maria said.

“We need to make sure we don’t carry any of the stuff to Earth. We experienced what happened to us. It could quickly turn into a pandemic there,” Peter said. He swept up the dust with his hands, threw it on the bed, and spread it around with the vacuum cleaner fan. No reaction. Good.

He went to the workshop and got the second high-pressure fan. He directed it at the ground and whirled up the test substance so much that it dusted the ceiling at a height of about four meters. Peter moved through all the rooms, but nothing happened. The base was immaculate, which was excellent. He sat down in the kitchen. Hopefully, the AVs would have completed their task soon, as well.

* * *

“And?” he asked when they finally reappeared after more than an hour.

“Everything’s fine!” Erik replied.

“You recorded everything?”

“Yes,” Nuria said. “We’re just waiting for the confirmation of your flight ticket.”

* * *

It was cold. Peter felt cold. Especially his cheek felt ice cold.

“Wake up,” Nuria said.

He must have fallen asleep. Peter started and looked at the clock. Three hours!

“We’re off, back to Earth!” Erik said. “Finally!”

Peter smiled. “It’s like being reborn.” He stood up, went to Maria’s room, and kissed her awake. She embraced him.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Katarina said, pulling the door shut behind her. “Please activate the shield, Marchenko.”

“Done, my love.”

Did I hear that right? Peter asked himself silently.

“There are still a few things to talk about that must remain our secret,” Katarina said. She took two small packages from a bag and gave one to Maria and another to Peter. “These are gifts from Marchenko. Don’t worry, RB approved this. But you are only allowed to open them on Earth. You are also requested to keep the NASA personnel away from the cargo hold.”

You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours. This felt very familiar to him.

“What’s in these?” Maria asked. She let the small object roll around in her right palm.

“A surprise,” Katarina said.

“She promised not to tell,” Marchenko said. “Let me say this much. It’s your ticket to independence—if that’s what you want.”

“I see,” Maria said.

But Peter was far more interested in something else. “Katarina is my HDS robot. Marchenko, how can you order Katarina to deny me information?”

“Which brings us to the next topic,” Marchenko said. “It’s your turn, Katarina.”

“Well, yes... well...” the robot said. Peter had never seen Katarina so embarrassed. “In recent days, I have been getting on extremely well with Marchenko. And he can certainly teach me a lot about emotions as a former human being. And most importantly, he will always be with me. Peter, can you understand that? At some point you will die, but I will still be here. In the best-case scenario, I will be kept in standby mode. In the worst-case scenario, I’ll be scrapped.”

“Of course, I understand that,” Peter said. He didn’t know why his voice sounded so hoarse. “Marchenko will always be there for you and need you,” he whispered.

“You understand me?”

“I can understand your reasoning.” But it hurt him to leave her behind. He had become used to her, and she had saved his life. “If that’s what you want, then you can stay here,” he finally said, keeping his voice as firm as possible.

Katarina hugged him. He had to clear his throat when she let go of him.

“I also have a little farewell gift for you. You’re welcome to open it in the spaceship,” she said. She handed him a small, flat packet. “Oh, yes, you can use my pressure suit. Yours hasn’t been repaired yet.”

“Thanks!” Peter said. He stowed away the packets, went to the door, and turned around one more time. “Good luck, Katarina!”

“You can visit me here!”

Peter smiled weakly. The airlock closed behind them and the pumps started up.

“Did you notice? Katarina is looking at us,” Maria said over the radio.

Peter hesitated, but he then pulled himself together. While the airlock was being flooded with the Venusian atmosphere, he turned around and waved at Katarina. She waved back and blew him a kiss. Peter turned off the voice control. He had to sniff, and no-one should hear it.

Subsequently, Maria and Peter were lifted by the two decontaminated robots.

“Well, as King and Queen of Venus, you should hardly have to walk!” Marchenko said, laughing.

“This is a bit like being carried across the threshold as a bride, although I thought that would be different,” Maria answered.

“I just want to keep you from being contaminated with the pathogens while you’re walking to the lander. Take the packet of the testing substance with you and test yourself in the airlock before you enter the transporter’s command center,” Marchenko said over the radio.

* * *

Peter and Maria stood in the airlock—from which the Venusian atmosphere had been pumped out—and distributed the powder.

“You can begin, Marchenko,” Peter called out.

Marchenko ventilated the airlock with air containing oxygen and ensured that the air swirled around vigorously.

Nothing happened.

“Great! You did it! Have a safe journey!”

* * *

Peter was strapped into his seat, waiting for the launch. He still had a heavy heart. He was glad to leave the planet in good health. And yet he was sad to have lost time—and especially Katarina. But he had also won something.

Peter groped for Maria’s hand. She noticed and gave him her hand.

He smiled. The journey had been worth it. He had won much more than he had lost. He closed his eyes and listened to the roar of the engines.

June 24, 2079, Strelka

The docking maneuver ran smoothly. Peter only felt it when the lander snapped into its anchorings. They were flying home, even though for a long time it had looked like they wouldn’t be.

“Marchenko, where are the boxes with the diamonds, anyway?” he asked.

“Why? Do you want to steal some?”

“I already did, a long time ago.” Peter laughed. “No, because of the NASA personnel. RB doesn’t want them to come across the boxes. That would only lead to awkward questions.”

“Don’t worry. The ship’s robots will hide them behind partitions that only I can open. Nobody will notice, or even ask questions.”

“Thank you. I wouldn’t want to have to lie to our rescuers.”

Maria had in the meantime taken possession of the command module. Peter followed her. There were six reclining seats in it, so Marchenko had already thought of the spare recliners.

“Well, why don’t you show it to me?” Maria asked.

“What?”

“I’m curious about Katarina’s present for you.”

Peter sat down on a recliner and strapped himself in. He then carefully opened the packet.

“Oh, a glass memory stick,” Maria said. She sounded disappointed. “Let’s see what’s on it. Work terminal, please.”

A communication unit descended from the ceiling to the level of his chest. Peter plugged in the glass memory stick and a text file opened.

“A message from Katarina,” he said. “Should I read it to you?”

Instead of answering, Maria shimmied in his direction and snuggled up to him. They read the message together.

“A complete backup of her current state? You could turn any robot on Earth into Katarina with the data on the glass memory stick,” Maria said. She looked at him doubtfully.

Peter brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “It doesn’t have to be an HDS model,” he said, winking at her. “A normal household robot will also suffice. I never used the S-function anyway, and a household robot is always useful.”

“You’re right. I would have missed Katarina’s cooking talents.”

“Yes, and I will equip the model with the latest defensive features. I would not want to be the victim of another attack.”

He made a mental note to himself to read the relevant articles later. The Chinese competition had supposedly made significant progress in the meantime. He then noticed that Maria did not share his enthusiasm. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“The attack. They are still investigating me,” she said.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I have information about that,” Marchenko reported.

“Are you eavesdropping?” Peter asked.

“Only for the few remaining hours in which you will be orbiting Venus. But there is good news, Maria. As you docked, I received a message from Valentina. The terror charges have turned out to be groundless, and for this reason the investigation regarding your alleged bootlegging has been referred back to Novosibirsk. Valentina has agreed with the FSB and the public prosecutor’s office to deduct a fine from your salary. The case is now closed. You are free!”

Maria hugged Peter. “I can hardly wait to be back on Earth!”

June 25, 2079, Strelka

“Go ahead,” Charles said.

Erik checked the safety line and then pushed off. His commander was already waiting on the other side in the hatch of the Russian ship, the Strelka, and beckoning him. The abyss he was crossing was only 30 meters wide, but infinitely deep. This was probably his last sojourn into space. He let go of the line, turned around, and hung from the safety rope, swinging.

The sun shone white in the distance, while Venus—ever-enigmatic—lay below him. He needed to take in this panorama in all its glory. Would NASA let him fly into space again? They might have acted independently of NASA a bit too often during this expedition. The NASA ship, the Venus Air, hovered on his right, a shadow in space. It would fly back to Earth in automatic mode. Erik had been surprised at how painlessly Charles had separated from his ship. As hard as it was to believe, he probably saw it as only a machine.

Venus lay below him, looking once again as mysterious as when they had arrived here, although they had been able to wrest some of its secrets from it. The life they had found, which had pounced on them, was the greatest of all enigmas. What was it capable of, if given a chance? What had it once been able to do when Venus had offered it better conditions? Was it purely programmed for growth and multiplication, or did it follow a plan?

These were questions that future visitors would have to clarify. They would be better prepared. Maybe they would build big greenhouses, where the life form could develop freely. Or should they stop researching the life form and declare Venus a restricted zone? Fortunately, that was not something that he would have to decide.

“Can’t stop admiring the view?” Ethan asked.

“Let him enjoy it. We’re in no hurry,” Charles said.

Erik ignored the comments. These were his last minutes looking at Venus, and nobody could take them from him. He would enter the ship only after he had gazed his fill. He moved his legs back and forth. He had wanted to swing, but there was no gravity, so he just wobbled. Erik smiled.

This environment was not meant for humans—and yet here he was. How many people could claim at that moment to be floating freely through space? You could probably count them on one hand. Five people out of ten billion. That was enough to have made it worth his while to have come here.

* * *

Two hours later, he was seated comfortably in the warmth of the Strelka’s command center on a surprisingly comfortable couch. Wasn’t there a saying that Russian spaceships were as uncomfortable as Russian cars and as cold as the boreal forest? Here too, there seemed to be the dawning of a new era.

He delved into the pocket of his NASA uniform and felt a rectangular card. He took out an advertisement for a diner in Houston. Erik turned the card over. A telephone number was noted on it with a blue ballpoint pen. That was at least four months ago, although to him it had seemed like half a lifetime. But the return flight should only last 18 days.

It would certainly be a good idea to call the number. Then he would have something to look forward to when he returned to his everyday life.

Author's Note by Brandon Q. Morris

Dear readers,

The Strelka is on its way back to Earth. I hope you are as happy about that as I am.

This book was new territory for me because it was a joint effort together with Ashton McLee. You don’t know him yet, but you’ve already benefited from his work because Ashton (that’s a pen name, of course) is a physicist, as am I, and has edited most of my novels as an expert, fact-checking the physics. Four eyes see more than two.

At some point, Ashton, too, wanted to contribute to the story. Can you guess which aspect of the story can be attributed to him? Email me your hunch. I am really interested to know what your answer is. Until one comes up with a joint writing routine—Ashton is not a full-time writer—it takes a while to mesh as a duo and complete a novel. That’s why this book took a bit longer to complete than my books usually do.

If you enter your name here...

hard-sf.com/subscribe/

... you will receive a message from me as soon as the next hard science fiction title is published. (I'm of course already working on the next manuscript). In addition, I will send you the colored PDF version of The Guide Tour of Venus, which is illustrated with fascinating photos (I’m not promising you too much).

The guided tour follows. You will learn a lot about Venus that could not be revealed in the novel. Some of it could even provide material for a sequel—if you would like one.

If you liked the book, tell other potential readers by writing a review. Just click on this link:

hard-sf.com/links/1272750

It only takes a few minutes and really helps me a lot.

So what can you expect in the future? We will step back some years, into 2026 when scientists suddenly receive data from a long lost probe on comet 67/P. The Dark Spring is coming, and it will be available in summer. You can order it here:

hard-sf.com/links/1358224

Happy reading!

Yours,

Brandon Q. Morris

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Author's Note by Ashton McLee

Dear readers,

As Brandon already you informed in his afterword, we try to complement each other. Of course, only you decide whether we have succeeded in doing so, but, as Brandon wrote, your opinion interests us a lot. After all, one doesn’t write such a book (only) for oneself, but above all for one’s readers. So we hope that you enjoyed reading the book as much as we did writing it.

As a physicist and engineer, I am, of course, interested in nature’s small and large phenomena, although I have focused more on the more minor aspects of nature until now, in my work with the transmission electron microscope and with the writing of children’s books. The fact that this book was delayed also had something to do with the latter. I had promised a librarian from Switzerland that I would complete the book, Goodnight Stories of a Little Apple Tree, (hard-sf.com/links/1354683). But my day, too, only has 24 hours, and my full-time job takes up a large part of it, as is to be expected.

Even as a child, science fiction inspired me. I was a big fan of Stanisław Lem, and even now have not forgotten how to dream. I was thus very eager to edit Brandon’s books and immediately accepted his offer to write something like this as a joint effort. It was an exhilarating experience!

I would like to repeat Brandon’s request. If you liked the book, please write a short review. It doesn’t need to be more than two or three sentences long. And if you would like to express yourself in more detail, to critique or criticize, that too is very welcome. Just send an email to the email address:

AshtonMcLee@yahoo.com

Did you know that there is history before the conflict between Anastasia and the RB Group? The story is already in my head—I just have to write it down. You will also learn something about the mysterious Shostakovich, who founded the RB Group. If you send me your email address, I’ll let you know when the book is finished (which is unlikely to be the case before the end of the year).

I thank you for taking the time to read the book up to this point.

With best regards,

Ashton McLee

Also by Brandon Q. Morris

The Triton Disaster

Nick Abrahams still holds the official world record for the number of space launches, but he’s bored stiff with his job hosting space tours. Only when his wife leaves him, however, does he try to change his life.

He accepts a tempting offer from a Russian billionaire. In exchange for making a simple repair on Neptune’s moon Triton, he will return to Earth a multi-millionaire, enabling him to achieve his ‘impossible dream’ of buying his own California vineyard.

The fact that Nick must travel alone during the four-year roundtrip doesn’t bother him at all, as he doesn’t particularly like people anyway. Once en route he learns his new boss left out some critical details in his job description—details that could cost him his life, and humankind its existence…

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The Death of the Universe

For many billions of years, humans—having conquered the curse of aging—spread throughout the entire Milky Way. They are able to live all their dreams, but to their great disappointment, no other intelligent species has ever been encountered. Now, humanity itself is on the brink of extinction because the universe is dying a protracted yet inevitable death.

They have only one hope: The ‘Rescue Project’ was designed to feed the black hole in the center of the galaxy until it becomes a quasar, delivering much-needed energy to humankind during its last breaths. But then something happens that no one ever expected—and humanity is forced to look at itself and its existence in an entirely new way.

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The Enceladus Mission (Ice Moon 1)

In the year 2031, a robot probe detects traces of biological activity on Enceladus, one of Saturn’s moons. This sensational discovery shows that there is indeed evidence of extraterrestrial life. Fifteen years later, a hurriedly built spacecraft sets out on the long journey to the ringed planet and its moon.

The international crew is not just facing a difficult twenty-seven months: if the spacecraft manages to make it to Enceladus without incident it must use a drillship to penetrate the kilometer-thick sheet of ice that entombs the moon. If life does indeed exist on Enceladus, it could only be at the bottom of the salty, ice covered ocean, which formed billions of years ago.

However, shortly after takeoff disaster strikes the mission, and the chances of the crew making it to Enceladus, let alone back home, look grim.

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Ice Moon – The Boxset

All four bestselling books of the Ice Moon series are now offered as a set, available only in e-book format.

The Enceladus Mission: Is there really life on Saturn's moon Enceladus? ILSE, the International Life Search Expedition, makes its way to the icy world where an underground ocean is suspected to be home to primitive life forms.

The Titan Probe: An old robotic NASA probe mysteriously awakens on the methane moon of Titan. The ILSE crew tries to solve the riddle—and discovers a dangerous secret.

The Io Encounter: Finally bound for Earth, ILSE makes it as far as Jupiter when the crew receives a startling message. The volcanic moon Io may harbor a looming threat that could wipe out Earth as we know it.

Return to Enceladus: The crew gets an offer to go back to Enceladus. Their mission—to recover the body of Dr. Marchenko, left for dead on the original expedition. Not everyone is working toward the same goal. Could it be their unwanted crew member?

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Proxima Rising

Late in the 21st century, Earth receives what looks like an urgent plea for help from planet Proxima Centauri b in the closest star system to the Sun. Astrophysicists suspect a massive solar flare is about to destroy this heretofore-unknown civilization. Earth’s space programs are unequipped to help, but an unscrupulous Russian billionaire launches a secret and highly-specialized spaceship to Proxima b, over four light-years away. The unusual crew faces a Herculean task—should they survive the journey. No one knows what to expect from this alien planet.

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The Hole

A mysterious object threatens to destroy our solar system. The survival of humankind is at risk, but nobody takes the warning of young astrophysicist Maribel Pedreira seriously. At the same time, an exiled crew of outcasts mines for rare minerals on a lone asteroid.

When other scientists finally acknowledge Pedreira’s alarming discovery, it becomes clear that these outcasts are the only ones who may be able to save our world, knowing that The Hole hurtles inexorably toward the sun.

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Silent Sun

Is our sun behaving differently from other stars? When an amateur astronomer discovers something strange on telescopic solar pictures, an explanation must be found. Is it merely artefact? Or has he found something totally unexpected?

An expert international crew is hastily assembled, a spaceship is speedily repurposed, and the foursome is sent on the ride of their lives. What challenges will they face on this spur-of-the-moment mission to our central star?

What awaits all of them is critical, not only for understanding the past, but even more so for the future of life on Earth.

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The Rift

There is a huge, bold black streak in the sky. Branches appear out of nowhere over North America, Southern Europe, and Central Africa. People who live beneath The Rift can see it. But scientists worldwide are distressed—their equipment cannot pick up any type of signal from it.

The rift appears to consist of nothing. Literally. Nothing. Nada. Niente. Most people are curious but not overly concerned. The phenomenon seems to pose no danger. It is just there.

Then something jolts the most hardened naysayers, and surpasses the worst nightmares of the world’s greatest scientists—and rocks their understanding of the universe.

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Mars Nation 1

NASA finally made it. The very first human has just set foot on the surface of our neighbor planet. This is the start of a long research expedition that sent four scientists into space.

But the four astronauts of the NASA crew are not the only ones with this destination. The privately financed ‘Mars for Everyone’ initiative has also targeted the Red Planet. Twenty men and women have been selected to live there and establish the first extraterrestrial settlement.

Challenges arise even before they reach Mars orbit. The MfE spaceship Santa Maria is damaged along the way. Only the four NASA astronauts can intervene and try to save their lives.

No one anticipates the impending catastrophe that threatens their very existence—not to speak of the daily hurdles that an extended stay on an alien planet sets before them. On Mars, a struggle begins for limited resources, human cooperation, and just plain survival.

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A Guided Tour of Venus

Because it is the brightest object in Earth’s night sky after the moon, humans have known Venus since antiquity. It has one unusual feature—it appears only as a morning or evening star. Astronomers only figured out relatively recently why that is.

Venus’s Place in Space

Just like the Roman Goddess of Love, after whom the planet was named, it likes to hide its secrets behind a veil. You will learn what astronomers and space researchers have uncovered, despite the planet’s secrecy, as you read the following pages.

Venus orbits our central star with a near-perfect circular orbit, maintaining an average distance of 108 million kilometers from the sun. (The average distance from Earth to the sun is just under 150 million kilometers.) The deviation of Venus’s orbit from a perfect circle is less than that of any other planet in the solar system. Only a few asteroids have orbits that show smaller deviations. However, Venus does not move in the same plane as Earth around the sun—its orbit is inclined to the Earth’s orbit by about 3.4 degrees.

Venus’s orbit directly affects how it appears in Earth’s sky. Because Venus always has to be between us and the sun as we gaze outward from Earth, it appears as either a morning or evening star, but never at midnight. Did you know that Venus is the only planet that can cast a shadow on Earth? However, this only works in areas without light pollution, and only on nights when the moon does not outshine Venus. The planet can even be seen in the daytime sky, when it is right above the horizon.

Venus is also the planet whose orbit brings it closest to Earth. This occurs when Venus is furthest from the sun and Earth is closest to the sun—that’s the point when the two planets are in closest proximity. However, this happens quite rarely. We had the last Venus proximity in 1850, at 39,514,827 kilometers. In 2101 the distance will be 39,541,578 kilometers. But that’s still more than a hundred times the distance between Earth and our moon. By comparison, the shortest distance to Mars is about 54,000,000 kilometers.

The degree of Venus’s brightness in Earth’s sky has relatively little to do with its absolute distance from Earth, for, like the moon, it shows phases. However, they are only clearly visible with a telescope. Its greatest apparent brightness is minus 4.3. At that point, 30 percent of the sunlit surface can be seen. Its apparent size varies between 10 and 60 arc seconds.

Interestingly, over time, the orbits of Earth and Venus have adapted to each other. Their orbit durations have a ratio of 13:8—after 13 Venus orbits and 8 Earth orbits, they are in the same starting locations again.

Venus’s rotation about its axis is especially remarkable and unique. As you know, the Earth revolves once a day, rolling along its orbit—as if you were rolling a ball around the sun. Venus, however, rotates backward! It’s is like pushing a ball around the sun and revolving it once backward per complete orbit. However, there is no bound rotation. While an orbit around the sun takes 224 Earth days, Venus needs 243 days to complete one rotation around its axis. Since it moves around the sun while rotating, this results in a day length of nearly 117 Earth days—that is, every 117 days, the sun appears in the same spot in Venus’s sky. And due to the reverse rotation, it rises in the west and sets in the east. The only other planet that rotates in the ‘wrong’ (opposite) direction is Uranus.

Why the planet doesn’t rotate faster is not yet known. Astronomers suspect Venus was ‘grazed’ by an asteroid, which could have been the cause. It is also conceivable—and there is scientific evidence for this—that its dense atmosphere, which is heated up by the sun, plays a role.

Planet without a Moon

Like Mercury, the planet closest to the sun, Venus has no moon. We are not sure why that is the case. Some researchers argue that Mercury could even be a former moon of Venus. Others hypothesize that Venus’s moon—or moons—crashed into the planet a long time ago, perhaps as a result of an asteroid impact.

However, from Venus’s vantage point, the planet certainly has a companion. Asteroid 2002 VE68—the name tells you it was discovered in 2002—apparently ‘orbits’ Venus. That is, it is sometimes in front of it, sometimes behind it, and sometimes beside it. In fact, the approximately 400-meter wide asteroid orbits the sun. The asteroid’s orbit has a 1:1 resonance with Venus’s orbit. Viewed from Venus, this results in a kidney-shaped path, during which 2002 VE68 achieves a distance of about 30,000,000 kilometers from the planet on either side. This appears to have been true for the past 7,000 years, and will probably continue to be the case for another 500 years. Perhaps it was Earth’s gravitation that gave it its present orbit. In such a case, researchers speak of a quasi-satellite. It will also be the Earth that will push the quasi-satellite onto a different orbit one day when it flies past Earth.

The Atmosphere: Venus’s cloak

Like a modest goddess, Venus is always cloaked in a dense cloud cover. However, some of the planet’s properties can be determined from its trajectory. For instance, scientists have been able to calculate that the planet has about 81 percent of the Earth’s mass and 95 percent of the Earth’s radius.

Since Venus is a rocky planet like Earth, one can say it is Earth’s little sister. However, the resemblance is limited to size and weight. While the Earth likes to show every viewer its continents and oceans, Venus is covered by a dense, opaque atmosphere, indeed an exceptional atmosphere. It consists mainly of carbon dioxide (96.5 percent) and nitrogen (3.5 percent). There also are minute traces of sulfur dioxide. The atmosphere’s mass is 93 times that of Earth’s atmosphere, which leads to a pressure of 92 bar on the surface (1 bar is the pressure of the Earth’s atmosphere).

The dense atmosphere creates a strong greenhouse effect, resulting in temperatures of 462 degrees at the surface—higher than the melting point of lead, tin, and zinc. This makes it hotter than on Mercury, which is much closer to the sun, even though Venus receives only a quarter of the solar energy that reaches Mercury, and even though the outer layers of Venus’s atmosphere reflect a large part of the sunlight.

The high pressure at the surface transforms the carbon dioxide from its normal, gaseous state, into a supercritical fluid. The limit for this is 74 bar and 31 degrees, and both conditions are easily fulfilled on Venus. Supercritical CO₂ covers Venus’s surface a bit like a planet-encompassing ocean. Its density, however, is much lower than that of water. Therefore, it would not feel like wading through water to someone wandering around in it. The supercritical fluid conducts heat very well, which helps to balance the temperature difference between day and night. It is, therefore, almost as hot on the dark side of Venus as it is on the bright side.

* * *

The structure of Venus’s atmosphere is also unusual. The troposphere extends upward from the ground to an elevation of about 65 kilometers, and makes up 99 percent of the atmosphere’s mass. There is almost no wind on the surface, but the upper parts of the troposphere travel at an enormous speed around the planet, essentially a constant super-hurricane with wind speeds of 360 km/h. Researchers call this ‘super-rotation’—the atmosphere only needs four Earth days to complete one rotation, while Venus’s rocky globe takes much longer. It’s as if Venus were swirling its cloak around its body very quickly, while spinning its body slowly.

The wind speeds differ depending on the geographic latitude. At the equator, the clouds rotate more slowly than in the mid-latitudes. Approaching the poles from the middle latitudes there are strong, very fast downdrafts, which are directed at the surface.

There are also weather patterns at the poles that we are not familiar with on Earth—'two-eyed cyclones’ with four times the force of the strongest storms on Earth. The storms have two eyes—centers of rotation—connected by an S-shaped band of clouds. Their other name is ‘polar dipoles.’

Earth-like conditions prevail in a zone that is part of the Venusian troposphere. At an altitude of 50 kilometers, the pressure is just one Earth atmosphere. The temperature drops at an altitude of 52 to 54 kilometers to 20 to 31 degrees. The spaceship in the novel, modeled on an actual NASA project, traveled in this zone. Because carbon dioxide is heavier than oxygen, a spaceship such as this one could be filled with oxygen for buoyancy, which could also be used as breathable air.

The mesosphere lies above the troposphere, extending from an altitude of 65 to 120 km. The thermosphere (120 to 350 km) rests atop the mesosphere. The clouds extend up to the lower mesosphere, where it is minus 43 degrees. Above that, it continues to get colder at first. The thermosphere, on the other hand, is cold on the night side (minus 173 degrees) and warm on the day side (27 to 127 degrees). In addition, an ionosphere forms on the day side in the mesosphere. The ionosphere is a layer with a high concentration of charged particles. On Earth, the ionosphere makes intercontinental radio communication possible.

At least three-quarters of the clouds are made up of numerous sulfuric acid droplets. It is due to these clouds that we see nothing of the surface of Venus. They reflect so much sunlight that it is only as bright on Venus’s surface as on a cloudy day on Earth. The sulfuric acid is formed when carbon dioxide, sulfur dioxide, and water vapor react in the presence of sunlight. However, this moisture doesn’t reach the surface. When it rains, the drops evaporate at a high altitude due to the heat.

There are occasional, unexplained storms in the cloud layer. Interestingly, researchers have observed numerous lightning flashes, but they hold differing theories regarding how these flashes originate, because the atmosphere should be too electrically conductive to allow lightning to form. Some researchers speculate that volcanic activity is the reason for the lightning.

The Surface: Venus’s skin

For a long time, due to Venus’s dense atmosphere, one could not directly view the surface. In the 1970s, the Russian Venera landers took the first photos of the surface, and in the early 1990s, NASA’s Magellan probe mapped 98 percent of the surface with a resolution of 120-300m (horizontal) by 30m (vertical). It turned out that gently undulating volcanic slopes cover 80 percent of Venus with differences in elevation of less than a thousand meters.

A small percentage of the surface consists of lowlands (up to 2 km below normal altitude), and an even smaller percentage of highlands (1.5 km above normal altitude). The difference in elevation from the lowest to the highest point of the Venusian surface is only 12 kilometers—on Earth, it is nearly 20 kilometers. Almost all formations have been given female names—the only exceptions are the Maxwell Montes and the Alpha and Beta Regio.

The two highlands correspond approximately to Earth’s continents. Aphrodite Terra is as big as South America and straddles the equator as part of the equatorial highland belt. Ishtar Terra lies between the 45th and the 80th latitude north and is about the size of Australia. It is where the 10,800-meter-high Maxwell Montes is located.

The plateau Lakshmi Planum is situated in the western part of Ishtar Terra. It is unusually flat by Venusian standards. It is about 4 kilometers high and is surrounded by several mountain chains that reach a height of up to 6.5 kilometers. These mountain chains look just like ‘fold mountains.’ However, no plate tectonics have been detected on Venus, so they are probably not folds. Perhaps the mountain chains arose due to volcanic folding directly beneath Ishtar Terra.

The summits of some Venusian mountains look bright in the radar image, as if covered by snow. However, the ‘snow’ is probably not frozen water, but the remnants of rainfall containing lead or bismuth sulfide. It rains lead—in the form of lead sulfide—on Venus.

The ‘cube world’ on Venus’s surface is also fascinating. The so-called tesserae consist of blocks that are each 20 kilometers wide, probably created by tectonic strain. The resulting faults intersect at almost right angles, creating the impression of tiles. Some tesserae rise directly from the lowlands.

Of course, Venus has a lot of old scars, i.e., meteorite craters. Only big chunks made it through the dense atmosphere. Therefore, its craters are wide. The largest, Mead, has a diameter of 270 kilometers. Larger craters, like those found on the moon, aren’t to be found here, probably because Venus’s crust is still relatively young due to its volcanic activity. Thus all traces of the ‘great bombardment’ during the early period of the solar system were erased.

Eighty-five percent of Venus’s surface is marked by volcanic activity. Scientists have counted well over 50,000 volcanic elevations. Some 167 volcanoes have a minimum diameter of 100 kilometers at their base. These volcanoes are conspicuous. The base of the 4.5-kilometer-high Theia Mons even has a diameter of 700 kilometers (the distance from Munich to Hanover, or New Orleans to Atlanta). It is thus wider than the highest volcano in our solar system, Olympus Mons on Mars. Like Venus’s highest volcano, Maat Mons, Theia Mons lies in the equatorial belt.

Why is Venus so active? Researchers suspect that the heat from the interior of the planet does not radiate continuously, as on Earth, but in surges. Venus’s volcanism is particularly intensive when there is a surge phase. There are currently signs of volcanic activity. For example, sudden increases in temperature on the surface, and increases in the percentage of sulfur dioxide in the atmosphere, have been measured.

Pancake cupolas (domes) are a distinctive feature of Venus. They are usually 25 kilometers in diameter and 700 meters high, with a central opening and many radial notches. One surmises that they were formed by a particularly viscous type of lava.

There also are numerous lava flows (fluctus) due to the high level of volcanic activity. Mylitta Fluctus is about 1,000 kilometers long and several hundred kilometers wide. On the other hand, there are also eroded valleys, through which thin liquid lava—rather than water—must have flowed at one point. They are up to 150 kilometers long and have walls that are 100 meters high. They wind their way through the plains and eventually disappear.

Gullies or fossae are a slightly larger valley type. They are usually at least 1.5 kilometers wide and 100 meters deep. The record-breaking Hilde Fossa is about 6,800 kilometers long, and thus even longer than Earth’s Nile River (6,650 km). These channels were probably carved by flows consisting of thin lava containing salt. A less popular theory attributes the formation of the channels to pyroclastic flows of gas and dust.

The Interior: Venus’s Body

Venus has a density similar to that of the Earth (5.24 to 5.52 g/cm³) and was formed in a similar part of the protoplanetary disk. Therefore, scientists assume that its interior resembles that of the Earth. However, Venus has a greater percentage of light elements than Earth—which is illogical, as it arose closer to the sun, in the zone where the heavier elements condensed first. Perhaps Earth could be a special case, if one takes the moon and the moon’s possible creation during a collision between Earth and a protoplanet as large as Mars into consideration.

Venus should, in any case, possess a liquid iron-nickel core with a radius of about 3,000 kilometers and a temperature of about 5,000 degrees Celsius. Researchers estimate that the proportion of impurities contained in it, especially magnesium oxide (MgO) and magnesium silicate (MgSiO₃), is at the most 8 percent.

The mantle above it, composed of iron and magnesium silicate, could be 3,000 kilometers thick. Since the temperature difference between the surface and the core, and Venus’s gravitational pull, are smaller than in Earth’s case, there is also less impetus for mantle convection, which might explain the lack of plate tectonics and magnetic field. But the slow rotation of the planet also contributes to the lack of a magnetic field.

Perhaps the top layer, the lithosphere, is thicker than Earth’s, which could account for Venus’s periodic volcanism. One can assume that the layer is 30 to 50 kilometers deep and is made up of basalt. The crust is especially thick beneath the tesserae.

Birth and Childhood: The History of Venus

Like the Earth, Venus originated 4.5 billion years ago in the sun’s protoplanetary disk. Naturally, the part of this disk near the sun was hotter than the portion further away from the sun. Therefore, in the inner solar system, the heavier elements condensed to form the rocky planets, while the lighter elements adhered to the nuclei of protoplanets in the outer solar system.

From the beginning, Venus was at a bit of a disadvantage compared to Earth, because it was much closer to the sun. Researchers have come up with different scenarios regarding what consequences that relative position had. It is quite possible that Venus, too, had a good start, possibly even with tropical living conditions on its surface. At some point, perhaps between 500 million and one billion years, a greenhouse effect set in, the pace of which was much more rapid than global warming on Earth, leading to the current situation on Venus.

On Earth, rain rinsed carbon dioxide from the air and bound it in the form of carbonates in rock. On Venus, however, which has no protective magnetic field, hydrogen, which is very light, was quickly swept away by the solar wind. That the sun shone with particular force in its early phase was a contributing factor. The percentage of heavy hydrogen (which is not so easily carried away by the solar wind, and therefore tends to remain) in Venus’s atmosphere indicates that Venus must have once possessed significantly more water than it does today.

NASA researchers believe that Venus’s fertile phase might have been of even longer duration. They assume that Venus initially had as much water as Earth. If you then simulate the climatic development, it remained cool for a surprisingly long time, at least for two billion years. Even 715 million years ago, the surface of Venus could still have been habitable. Water clouds would have protected against the high level of solar radiation. Such clouds would have been particularly dense, due to the slow rotation of the planet.

According to the theory, the cloud layer acted like a parasol. It could have even been a bit colder on the ground than on the Earth’s surface. At some point, however, all the oceans evaporated, and carbon dioxide began to outgas from the rock—we see the result of that on Venus today. Venus lost most of its water vapor to outer space. Hardly any is left.

But perhaps a completely different scenario unfolded—at least that is what Japanese researchers think. In their opinion, the magma ocean on the surface of Venus, which still existed shortly after the formation of the planet, needed much longer to cool off than it did on Earth because of the much higher level of solar radiation. As a result, the water vapor in the atmosphere could not condense like on our home planet and form oceans from rain, but escaped into space and left behind carbon dioxide, which created the present situation due to the greenhouse effect. On Earth, on the other hand, life arose in the oceans and created today’s breathable atmosphere.

Or is an entirely different model conceivable? The planetologist Huw Davies claims that he can prove that Venus was created from the collision of two protoplanets that were about the same size, which had previously both orbited the sun separately. This theory would at least explain the slow backward rotation of the planet. Venus’s seas evaporated due to the collision, and carbon dioxide was emitted in large quantities from rock, leading to the formation of today’s atmosphere.

Visitors and Observers: The Study of Venus

Even in antiquity, people noticed Venus as a morning and evening star. The Sumerians probably knew that they were dealing with the same object. They named the ‘star’ after their goddess Inanna. In Babylon, the goddess Inanna became Ishtar. Around 1600 BC, the Babylonians created one of the oldest documents about Venus, a Venus calendar that spanned more than 21 years. The ancient Egyptians reverted to believing that the morning and evening stars were separate entities, as did the early Greeks. Later, however, the ‘star’ was once again seen as one object and named after the Greek goddess Aphrodite, the goddess of love. The Romans named the star after their goddess of love, too, except that they named her Venus.

For the Maya, the planet, which they named Chad Ek (Great Star), was one of the most important celestial objects. The Dresden Codex includes a complete record of Venus’s 584-day cycle. The Maya were already able to accurately calculate the Venusian cycle to one-hundredth of a day.

In 1610, Galileo Galilei was the first person to view the phases of Venus via a telescope—which supported the heliocentric worldview. He also noticed that Venus changed its size, from which he concluded that Venus was sometimes closer to and sometimes farther away from Earth. British astronomers observed the first transit of Venus in front of the solar disk in 1639. In 1761, Mikhail Lomonosov found the first evidence of an atmosphere while viewing such a transit, and in the 19th century, people succeeded in calculating the distance to Venus.

For a long time, astronomers thought Venus also rotated once every 24 hours. Giovanni Schiaparelli was the first to suggest that Venus orbited around the sun. However, it was only in 1961 that scientists were able to successfully measure its rotation period with two radio telescopes.

For a long time, Venus was also expected to have a habitable surface, a tropical version of the Earth, perhaps with oceans of petroleum or CO₂-rich water. Disappointment followed the first evidence (1958) of high temperatures—the Mariner 2-probe measured temperatures of 220 to 320 degrees.

On October 18, 1967, the Soviet probe Venera-4 delivered the first batch of data from the atmosphere. It measured 95 percent CO₂ and a pressure of 75 to 100 atmospheres. Venera-5 and Venera-6 confirmed the data. But only Venera-7 reached the surface, on December 15, 1970, and sent data from there for 23 minutes until heat and pressure got the better of it. Venera-8 measured the cloud layer in 1972 and found that it ended at an altitude of 35 kilometers. Mariner 10 (United States) discovered the high wind speeds in 1974.

In October 1975, Venera 9 and 10 transmitted the first photos from the surface. In 1978, NASA’s Pioneer Venus Multiprobe reached the planet’s surface and survived there for 45 minutes. In 1981, Venera 13 transmitted the first color pictures from the surface. The probe set the current survival record at 127 minutes. In 1985, Vega 1 and 2 each deployed one balloon and one lander. The flying probes managed to survive at an altitude of 53 kilometers for 46 and 60 hours, respectively.

After that, there were no probes for a few years. What we now know about the surface of Venus is based on data from the radar sensor of NASA’s Magellan probe, transmitted between 1990 and 1994. Further data were received between 2006 and 2014 from the ESA probe Venus Express. This probe was followed in 2015 by the Japanese probe Akatsuki, which provided, among other things, data on atmospheric circulation.

Whether Venus will receive more visitors in the future is unclear, but two would-be guests have already expressed interest. NASA’s Parker Solar Probe will have flown past Venus seven times by 2024, and the ESA JAXA probe BepiColombo, headed for Mercury, will use Venus’s gravity to decelerate in 2020 and 2021.

India is planning to launch an orbiter named Shukrayaan-1 around 2023—it is currently in the testing phase. Russia wants to launch a successor to the Venera probes of the 1970s, a ‘Venera D’ mission, by the end of the 2020s. The mission’s lander is supposed to survive much longer on the surface. Currently, however, the mission is only on the long-term-planning list.

But there are enough ideas regarding exploring Venus. VAMP (Venus Atmospheric Maneuverable Platform), in particular, stands out from the crowd. The idea is to have an inflatable aircraft with, depending on the version, a 6 to 55-meter wingspan, and a mass ranging from 90 to 900 kilograms. Its motor could fly it at a speed of 110 km/h through the upper Venusian atmosphere. If the engine is turned off, VAMP would drop to a height of about 55 kilometers, where the buoyancy would be strong enough to stabilize it.

HAVOC, the High-Altitude Venus Operational Concept proposed by NASA researchers, can manage without any engine. The spaceship NASA has conceptualized could explore Venus’s atmosphere for any length of time. You are already familiar with the concept from this novel. NASA researchers have not just conceived of a manned version, but also a much smaller 31-meter-long robotic variant. The critical point for such a spaceship is its entry into the atmosphere, when it must simultaneously brake and inflate itself. But NASA researchers have already come up with a plan to make sure entry into the atmosphere goes smoothly.

Dead or Alive? Life on Venus

It is beyond question that the surface of Venus is not suitable for life as we know it, but the constraint is already clear from the phrase, ‘as we know it.’ We are familiar with only one life-form so far, based on carbon chemistry and water. Even on Earth, however, there are extreme environments where life thrives. The whole Earth was once such a place, because its atmosphere initially contained no oxygen. What we now see as the hallmark of life was, in fact, produced by unicellular organisms during photosynthesis. The new substance in the atmosphere also extinguished an entire branch of life for which oxygen proved to be deadly.

Today, niches still exist, for example, in undersea volcanoes, in hot springs, or even buried in the Earth’s crust, where life uses chemistry that differs from today’s norm. Even in these niches, life is mostly carbon-based, but of course that does not mean that life everywhere in the universe has to be based on carbon.

Carbon is a very flexible element, surpassing any other in the ability to form a variety of structures. Therefore, when looking for life, it makes sense to begin by looking for carbon-based forms. But if they cannot be found, this does not necessarily mean that a planet is devoid of life. However, it would be pure speculation to apply this idea of non-carbon-based life to Venus’s surface, so I prefer to leave that to a work of fiction—whose prerogative, after all, is speculation.

However, there are areas on Venus where the conditions are similar to those on Earth. You already know where—in the clouds. Above an altitude of 50 kilometers, we have normal Earth-like atmospheric pressure and tolerable temperatures. This was, in fact, where it was shown that various building blocks for carbon-based lifeforms are present. There is indeed enough carbon available in the form of CO₂, but water and hydrogen are very scarce. Scientists know, however, that water vapor must be present on Venus, because it is required for the formation of sulfuric acid, which makes up a substantial part of the clouds.

If microorganisms have formed there (or withdrawn to this location), they could use ultraviolet radiation from the sun as an energy source. These bacteria might use UV light to transform carbon dioxide to produce sulfuric acid. Interestingly, in the 1960s, astronomers discovered dark streaks in Venus’s atmosphere that absorb ultraviolet light. These streaks are found at altitudes of 50 to 62 kilometers.

In addition, Venera probes found particles that are a micrometer in diameter in the clouds. These particles turned out to be rings composed of eight sulfur atoms, octasulfur, which might have been formed from a carbon ring. Each carbon atom might have been replaced in a step by step process by a sulfur atom (as in a biological process). But octasulfur also forms in a non-biological process from sulfuric acid, and it absorbs UV radiation—therefore, the ring molecules could be the cause of the dark streaks. We will only know the answer when we study the phenomenon in greater depth directly in Venus’s clouds.

Even if the clouds of Venus prove to be home to life, that doesn’t necessarily mean that it originated there. Just as Mars fragments have reached Earth as meteorites, Earth fragments have reached Venus in the past. Bacteria that were robust enough to survive the journey could have found acceptable living conditions in the clouds.

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Glossary of Acronyms

AI – Artificial Intelligence

ASCAN – AStronaut CANdidate

AV – Autonomous Vehicle

BCI – Brain-Computer Interface

BSL-4 – BioSafety Level 4 (highest)

CapCom – Capsule Communicator

CELSS – Closed Ecological Life Support System (Spaceship garden module)

DNA – DeoxyriboNucleic Acid

DFD – Direct Fusion Drive

ESA – European Space Agency

EVA – ExtraVehicular Activity

FSB – Federal’naya Sluzhba Bezopasnosti (Federal Security Service of the Russian Federation)

HAVOC – High-Altitude Venus Operational Concept

HDS – Home, Defender, Sex (robot)

IgM – Immunoglobulin M (antibody)

ILSE – International Life Search Expedition (fictional spaceship)

JAXA – Japan Aerospace eXploration Agency

NASA – National Aeronautics and Space Administration

NOAA – National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration

REM – Rapid Eye Movement

UV – UltraViolet

VAMP – Venus Atmospheric Maneuverable Platform

Metric to English Conversions

It is assumed that by the time the events of this novel take place, the United States will have joined the rest of the world and will be using the International System of Units, the modern form of the metric system.

Length:

centimeter = 0.39 inches

meter = 1.09 yards, or 3.28 feet

kilometer = 1093.61 yards, or 0.62 miles

Area:

square centimeter = 0.16 square inches

square meter = 1.20 square yards

square kilometer = 0.39 square miles

Weight:

gram = 0.04 ounces

kilogram = 35.27 ounces, or 2.20 pounds

Volume:

liter = 1.06 quarts, or 0.26 gallons

cubic meter = 35.31 cubic feet, or 1.31 cubic yards

Temperature:

To convert Celsius to Fahrenheit, multiply by 1.8 and then add 32

To convert Kelvin to Celsius, subtract 273.15

Excerpt: The Dark Spring

August 15, 2026, DLR Control Center, Cologne

“I’m concerned about TIRA,” Marcel called out to him.

Karl wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. Outside the sun was blazing but in here the air conditioning was on full. Hopefully he wouldn’t catch a cold.

“Good morning to you too,” he said.

“It’s almost midday.”

“That’s true. But a few friendly words...”

“Man, I’ve been awake since just after midnight and I still don’t know what’s wrong with TIRA.”

The Thermal InfRAred instrument had first started causing problems shortly after the launch of the Hera probe. It just couldn’t be properly calibrated.

“If necessary, we’ll have to do without it,” said Karl.

“Then I’ll be calling in sick when the mission gets serious. The researchers will be breathing down our necks.”

Every instrument on the probe had its own group of scientists. Karl could understand their frustration. They’d had to wait for more than three years – and now they wouldn’t get their measurement data? That would delay their research careers, because without data there would be nothing to publish, and not publishing meant a career setback. Karl was glad that, as an engineer, he had nothing to do with evaluating the data.

“We’ll get TIRA working eventually,” he said. “What’s it griping about today?”

“After a warm start of the probe, it insists on starting the measurements.”

“But the Didymos system is still weeks away.”

“Exactly. So of course the measurements produce no results, and then it defaults to maintenance mode. So I initiate a warm start, and again TIRA starts measuring, and...”

“I get it. You go home. Your wife must be waiting.”

“She is. She wants to give me the little one and then rush off to the hospital.”

“She’s working again?”

“Yeah, I know, and the kid’s only six months old.”

“Well, have fun with the offspring.”

“Thanks, Karl, I will.”

* * *

Marcel left the room, which was about the size of a classroom. The back wall was made of glass. Karl could see into the ISS control room on the other side. Only two colleagues were currently working there. He sat down and adjusted the office chair, being a head shorter than Marcel, and moved the middle of the three monitors down a little.

“Come on, TIRA, let’s see what nonsense you’re up to,” he said.

Karl started the debugger for the probe’s source code. Sending every change back and forth would take too long, because Hera was now 30 light minutes away. So he always tested new program code on the computer model first. How had Marcel described the problem? Whenever TIRA was restarted, the instrument began immediately taking measurements. Someone must have tried to ‘improve’ the launch sequence. Karl went through the lines of code. There it was. Step 3FA. The last change was made by user JK. That was Joshua König. Joshua worked the night shift before Marcel. There was no mention of why he’d built the measurement start into TIRA’s launch sequence, and he wouldn’t be able to ask him until that evening. Surely just turning the instrument on was enough? And why hadn’t Marcel noticed the change to the code?

Karl shook his head, then changed the line. The simulator didn’t report a problem, so he sent the new code via the uplink to the probe. He’d know in an hour whether it was successful.

* * *

The phone rang. Karl pushed aside his carton of Vietnamese noodles. Couldn’t he eat lunch in peace just this once?

“Hello Karl!”

It was Johannes Düstermann from ESOC in Darmstadt. Karl had already guessed when he saw the area code on the display. Today was going to be one of those days.

Hey, how’s my ex? Are you happy together?

He refrained from voicing this question, although he was quite interested in the answer.

“Hello!”

“It’s me, Joe.”

That’s what Karl used to call him, before Düstermann stole his woman.

“Oh, it’s Joe now, is it?”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“What do you want? The day’s already going down the crapper anyway.”

“Good to hear from you too.”

“No, seriously, Düstermann, is there something important? Otherwise I’d like to go back to my noodles while they’re still warm.”

He almost felt sorry for Joe. His ex-wife had probably thrown herself at him. Almost sorry. He’d still chosen her over their friendship.

“Of course, Stoll, I wouldn’t have called otherwise.”

Joe sounded tense. He shouldn’t be so hard on him. But life hadn’t always been good to Karl, either. He could still hear Marcel berating him. You shouldn’t let yourself go like that, Karl. You’ve still got a long life ahead of you. You’re barely over 50. He could talk. He was barely 30 and had a wife and a baby.

“Karl?”

“Uh, yeah, what is it?”

“Do you remember Mike? Mike Pence?”

“The hard-drinking Australian?”

Pence had been in Germany for some ESA program, and they’d gone with him to Munich for the Oktoberfest. He’d drunk so much they’d barely managed to drag the babbling Pence back to his hotel room.

“Exactly.”

“Is he still in New Norcia?”

The small town in Western Australia was home to one of the three main antennae of the European Space Tracking Network, ESTRACK.

“Well, that’s where he was calling from. He received some interesting data.”

“What’s that got to do with Hera?”

“Nothing, Karl. But I thought it might interest you anyway.”

“I’m really busy right now. The rendezvous with the Didymos system is scheduled for two months from now. We intend to put two landers on the moon of an asteroid which doesn’t have any gravity to speak of. And now one of the instruments is flipping out.”

Karl was exaggerating the problem a little. Hera would still be able to complete its task, even if TIRA malfunctioned and couldn’t measure the infrared spectrum. But he didn’t his former friend to think he he wasn’t stretched to capacity.

“Fine. I just thought...”

“It was nice to chat with you again.”

“Rosetta, that’s all I’ll say.”

Was that a hint of triumph in Johannes’ voice? The man knew how to entice him. The mission to the 67P comet had been the greatest adventure of his entire career. They’d been a good team back then – he, Sylvia and Joe. Sylvia, who’d always persisted with her doctorate, whom both of them had courted. Who’d chosen him first, and then Joe in the end, because he simply had his life more together.

“What about Rosetta?”

“There’s a new development.”

“Then send the data in an email,” said Karl.

“Sorry?”

“Yes, asshole, you can send it to me. Please.”

“With pleasure, Mr. Stoll. Enjoy the rest of your meal.”

The line went dead.

* * *

Karl sighed. The noodles were cold now anyway. He folded up the box and threw it in the wastebasket, which would be emptied that evening by the cleaners.

His computer beeped.

He rolled over to the desk. There was the email Joe had promised. Mike had sent it to him from a private address.

“Dear Joe, dear Charly,” it began.

Mike seemed to think they still worked together. Well, they were really good friends back in the day.

“I’m writing from my personal email address because I actually retired six months ago.”

Crazy, Mike was a pensioner. Karl had always assumed they were the same generation. But he himself only had 12 years to go.

“Now and then I help out with night shifts. It’s not easy to find qualified people in the provinces. And I’m happy to supplement my pension a bit. But I don’t want to bore you, you probably have a lot to do. I’ve heard things are getting exciting with Hera. I’ll get to the point. I heard a signal during one of my shifts that immediately sounded familiar. But I don’t want to bias you. Maybe I’m wrong. Because it’s actually totally impossible. So I’m simply attaching the data. Have a look at it and if I’m mistaken, please don’t hold it against an old codger. Take care, my friends, and say hello to Silvia from me. Mike.”

Karl leaned back. Fortunately he didn’t know any Silvia. But Johannes had probably already passed on the greeting to his Sylvia. Karl looked for the attachment and clicked on it. The virus scanner launched automatically. No threat, it reported. Karl opened the dataset in a special program.

But that was... impossible. Either Mike or Joe or both were trying to jerk him around. He slammed his fist on the desk. And he’d wasted his time on that! When Johannes had uttered the word ‘Rosetta’, it had worked on him like a magical incantation. But this wasn’t Rosetta. It couldn’t be. If he took the data at face value, then it meant the tiny Philae lander had made contact again.

Philae, about a cubic meter in size and weighing 100 kilograms, had been sitting since November 13, 2014 on Comet 67P in the shadow of a rocky overhang, orbiting the Sun with the comet. Karl had been there when it separated from its mother probe, Rosetta. He was there when it impacted the comet, bounced off, and finally found a landing site. He’d watched the lander report back in June the following year. And he was among those who had finally terminated Philae’s contact with the Earth, allowing the mother probe Rosetta to crash into the comet and destroy itself. Without transmission via Rosetta’s powerful antennae, it was impossible for anyone on Earth to hear the tiny lander – not then and not in the future.

So what was it Mike had received?

* * *

His computer signaled that the simulation was finished. Karl scrolled through the results. Again, TIRA had tried to measure a non-existent object immediately after the warm start, which led to an error message, which required a warm start, at which point TIRA... But he’d removed the command from the code himself!

Karl mentally apologized to Marcel. His young colleague had probably already tried that. He’d underestimated him again. He pulled the program up on screen. Where was the damned error? It was no use, he’d have to widen his search. If he was unlucky, it would take hours. But better they found the error now than after Hera arrived at the double asteroid.

The launch sequence wasn’t the problem. At which point did the program counter initiate the command to start measuring? He paused the debugger. When the program reached the critical point, it would now simply freeze and Karl could investigate. Beep. A red exclamation mark appeared on the left-hand monitor. So that’s where you are. And where did you come from? He ran it backwards. That was the magic of programming, an ability that had always delighted him.

He ended up in error management. This part of the program was always fired up when an error surfaced somewhere. And there it was. Here too, TIRA was receiving the command to begin the measurements after a warm start. Which was stupid, of course, because it resulted in an endless loop. The programmer responsible for this section had presumably lazily borrowed the lines from somewhere else where they made sense. Karl simply deleted the line that prompted the instrument to start measuring. That half-solved the problem. But only half, because the program should never have ended up in error management in the first place – this wasn’t the error that was supposed to trigger the warm start! His thoughts were going round in circles.

Wait a minute. The program sequence was redirected to error management. So there must have been an error warning. But maybe not the one he was expecting? Karl printed out the status of the simulated probe. It was still in flight mode. Sensitive instruments had protective covers. TIRA too. For a warm start of the instruments, the cover didn’t move. Whose idea was that? Was that sensible? Hera had spent a large part of the journey in sleep mode to save energy. After that there had been a cold start, whereby the entire probe was woken up. At that moment the cover should actually open too. But it stayed down, resulting in an error at every warm start, which prompted another warm start, which started the measurements, which...

Enough. Karl stopped the mental loop. There was a simple solution. They had to open the cover, preferably by repeating the cold start. It was anyone’s guess what had gone wrong there. It was a typical coordination problem. An engineer’s perspective was different to that of a programmer. But that was why they were there. However, before he could restart Hera, he’d have to clear it with the group. It was possible a colleague was currently working on another instrument.

* * *

Karl rolled his chair back, put his feet up on the desk and clasped his hands behind his head. He didn’t care that he could be seen from the corridor. He’d completed his work for the day and could now think about the egg Mike had laid in his nest.

It seemed unlikely anyone was jerking him around. 67P, where Philae must still be waiting under the rocky overhang, was a short-period comet. It approached the Sun roughly every six years, not quite as close as Earth’s orbit, but still close enough that Rosetta could reach it. It was last here in 2021, six years after a man-made robot had explored it. Its period had recently shortened a little, probably due to Jupiter’s gravitational influence. So its next visit should be... this year.

But that wasn’t enough. Philae could call out as often as it liked, no one would hear. Its transmitter was too weak and it was too far away. But what Mike had received clearly came from the lander. How did that work? There must be a connection somewhere. A radio signal like that couldn’t happen by accident.

What was the little lander really capable of? Karl didn’t have to think about it for long, he knew its technical capabilities. Philae had a battery that it could charge with the solar cells. The efficiency of the solar cells might be somewhat reduced after 12 years, but the capacity should still be enough to switch on the lander and operate its most essential systems for a few minutes.

Back in 2014 Philae had wound up at least partly in shadow. The solar cells hadn’t provided enough power, it had run out of energy and fallen silent. If the lander was transmitting again, it must have left the shadow. Something must have happened on 67P to alter its location. That would be quite an interesting development for a researcher! But how did the signal reach the Earth without the Rosetta probe as a go-between? He had no idea.

But he knew people who might be able to help him. Karl looked at the clock. It was still too early for the first call. Robert Millikan at Green Bank Observatory probably wasn’t in his office yet. And he was nervous about making the second call. No one knew Comet 67P as well as Prof. Dr. Sylvia Stoll.

* * *

“Hello, Joe!”

Karl opted for the more friendly approach this time.

“This is a surprise. Karl, what a pleasure.”

If Joe sensed that Karl was trying to backpedal, he didn’t let on.

“What can I do for you?” he asked.

“I’d like to speak to... your wife. Is she there?”

Karl deliberately avoided using her name. He’d really have to get used to the idea that she was no longer...

“She’s helping the older one with his homework.”

“Homework?”

“Yeah, they still get it at school these days.”

Karl laughed. His ex-wife was helping the son he never wanted to have.

“Good. Then just ask her if she could...”

A stroke of luck – he didn’t have to speak to Sylvia. He probably wouldn’t have been able to get a word out.

“Wait, she’s coming. Must be finished.”

“Who is it?” he heard faintly in the background.

“Your ex-husband,” replied Joe.

Something clattered.

“This is a surprise,” said Sylvia’s voice on the line.

“That’s what your husband said.”

“You’ve never called us at home, not since...”

“Since the divorce.”

“Exactly. To what do I owe the honor?”

She sounded a little piqued.

“A professional question.”

“And that couldn’t wait till tomorrow? I have to be at uni at ten.”

“Sorry. I’d like to call another old friend next, and I need your opinion first.”

“Fine, what’s it about?”

“67P.”

“I’ve had nothing to do with Churyumov-Gerasimenko for ten years.”

“But you have a memory like an elephant.”

“You always accused me of that. And now you want to exploit it?”

“I just want to know how likely it is that the comet could have changed.”

“Really, Karl, that was so long ago. 67P consists of two parts, but I don’t have the details in my head anymore. Right now I could tell you every detail about Didymos and Didymoon, but old Churyumov...”

“Please, Sylvia.”

“It’s too much to ask right now. I want to spend the evening with my family, even if that’s hard for you to understand.”

She sounded bitter, as though she was still holding it against him that his work had always come first. And yet she had qualified as a professor while he never even completed a dissertation.

“Just a few minutes, please,” he said, feeling like he was going down on his knees.

“I have a suggestion. My first lecture starts at eleven tomorrow. If you call me at my office at ten, I’ll have a chance to do some reading first, and you’ll get your answer.”

“But at ten...”

“I know, you’re normally still asleep, but it’s important, isn’t it?”

“Alright, Sylvia. I’ll call you at ten.”

Did he even have her office number? But to ask her for it now... he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. He could hear a child in the background calling, “Mama.” Sylvia said goodbye and ended the call, and Karl sat in his control room holding the warm telephone receiver.

* * *

“Green Bank Observatory, visitor center, you’re speaking with Mary. What can I do for you on this beautiful summer’s day?”

“Hello, Charly Stoll here from Germany, I’ll like to speak with Bob, Robert Millikan. Can you put me through?”

“Of course, doll, he’s in his office waiting for his first tour. Who shall I say is calling? I didn’t quite catch your name.”

“Charly from Germany, I’m sure he’ll remember me.”

“OK, Charly from Germany, I’m sure Bob will be pleased to get your call. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No, thank you.”

“Then you have a wonderful day.”

“Thanks.”

The line went quiet. Then he heard a dial tone. At least there wasn’t any hold music. Sometimes it annoyed him that he’d had to do without an assistant for the last two years, but it was probably better than being greeted every morning by Mary.

“Millikan here. What is it?”

That was him, his old friend. Karl had known Robert Millikan even before the Rosetta mission. Millikan was an excellent radio astronomer, and he’d helped ESA at the start of the millennium to construct the ESTRACK network, which they’d used to follow and steer the Rosetta probe. Hadn’t he also been with them on the notorious Oktoberfest jaunt? In any case, Bob had naturalized, married a German, built a house, planted a tree and fathered a con. Martin, if he remembered correctly.

“Who is this?” asked Bob, now a little irritated.

“Sorry, it’s me, Charly,” he replied.

“The Charly?”

“Yes, the very one.”

“Hey, this is a surprise! How long has it been?”

“Five or six years?”

At some point after the Rosetta mission, Robert had abruptly packed his bags and gone back to the States. Everyone had been baffled. He’d even left his son behind.

“Yeah, since... doesn’t matter. I guess you haven’t heard much from me.”

“I haven’t. But that’s OK. I’m sure you had your reasons.”

“Well, I thought so at the time. But surely you’re not calling to reminisce about old times?”

The question almost sounded like a plea. But Karl had no intention of discussing the past with Robert. It would be a waste of time, because it couldn’t be changed now anyway.

“No. Or yes. But on a professional level.”

“Then fire away.”

Karl told him what Mike thought he’d received via the New Norcia antenna. Robert listened without interrupting. Was he just being courteous or was he completely disinterested?

“What do you think?” Karl asked finally.

“Mike knows what he’s doing. He oversaw the construction of the station in Western Australia and calibrated the antenna. Mike’s not wrong.”

“I agree. But then how did the signal reach us?”

“The lander is the primary source, but it can’t have transmitted the signal that arrived in New Norcia.”

“Yes, that’s what I thought.”

“The answer seems pretty simple to me. Back in the day, the Rosetta probe amplified the signal and sent it on. So there must be another relay now that’s assumed this function. Is there another probe out there that could do that?”

“None of the current missions is intended as a signal relay for Philae.”

“But you know how it works, Charly. You borrow the code that’s already been shown to work once, and transfer it to the next project. That’s the safest way to operate. There’s enough space in the probes’ memory banks these days. How do you know there isn’t some spaceship out there containing the command to relay the Philae signals?”

Sounded plausible. Philae was assumed dead. It would waste a few kilobytes of memory, but otherwise it wouldn’t do any harm for another probe to carry around the old program code from Rosetta. No one had expected Philae to make contact again. Karl himself had even transplanted program modules that had been tried and tested in practice into other probes. Rosetta had been a brilliant success.

“There aren’t that many missions out there, though,” said Karl. “Only we and the Japanese had access to the data. So at the moment, only Hera could serve as a relay. There aren’t any other ESA probes underway nearby.”

“Then you know where to look.”

August 15, 2026, Green Bank Observatory

The school children were finally safely back in their yellow bus. Robert pasted on a smile and waved. The black driver and the teacher waved back. The children were wearing headphones and busying themselves with their smartphones – in blatant disregard of the fact that it wasn’t allowed here! He’d specifically forbidden it twice. But the researchers would know the reason for the resulting spike in their measurement results. That was why Mary always hung the visitor schedule in the lab. About five minutes before the buses arrived and five minutes after they left, the measurements were useless.

Robert turned around. Mary had probably brought cake, but his destination wasn’t his office this time, but the Jansky Lab, from where he could control the antennae. His assistant would be disappointed. But Charly’s call had made him pensive. Why couldn’t the past just leave him in peace?

Gravel crunched under his shoes. Maybe it would help if he solved the problem that was occupying his old friend. If he could say to him, listen Charly, this is where the signal’s coming from, then he probably wouldn’t hear from him again for a long time – just like he hadn’t heard from his ex-wife or his son for years. Germany was far away, and that’s how he wanted it to stay.

* * *

The heavy iron door squeaked. The lab resembled a bunker. The metal rollers were down. Narrow strips of sunlight slanted through the swirling dust particles. A man and a woman in white smocks were sitting at their computers, typing. The man looked up at him. He was one of the guest scientists. What was his name again? The man had only been here for two weeks, but Mary had probably already made a point of remembering his name.

Now he was smiling at him. He must have introduced himself already. Robert approached. The woman was wearing headphones with a cable running from her ears down under the desk. She didn’t seem to have noticed him.

“Hello Bob,” the man greeted him.

Robert squinted to read his name badge. Thorsten Niesner, it said.

“Hallo Thorsten,” he said.

“Without the H,” said the man, in a strong German accent.

“Excuse me, Thorsten,” said Robert, pronouncing the name with a hard T.

“What can I do for you?” asked Thorsten.

“Um, nothing, or wait, is the big dish free right now?”

“I... yes, I was just about to...”

“That’s great. Can I ask you to aim it at a particular target for just a few minutes?”

His harmless-sounding request was actually quite impertinent. The man had probably had to wait his turn to use the antenna, and now he comes along... Robert was lucky Neisner was so eager to help. Or inexperienced, or both. If you wanted to get ahead you had to fight for time on the expensive instruments. That was another reason he’d eventually given up on pursuing an academic career.

“Of course, what’s the target?”

Robert blushed. He didn’t even know where the Hera probe was. If he was unlucky, it might not even be visible from their position.

“One moment. Could I quickly use your computer?”

Niesner nodded. Robert opened the ESA website. Great! It listed the current positions of the probes on the landing page. The ESA must be really proud of this project. Now he just needed to do the math. Fortunately, he’d learned how to do this and practiced it ad nauseum. Hera should be visible! He noted down the figures on a piece of paper.

“Please aim at these coordinates,” he said, handing them to Niesner.

* * *

The air conditioning droned. He could hear faint music, as though in the distance. It must be coming from the headphones of the woman still concentrating on her monitor. It took a while for the antenna to reposition. Niesner was probably silently cursing him. But he didn’t let it show, and this earned him Robert’s respect. Robert was the longest-serving member of staff at the Observatory, but he wasn’t the boss, who was somewhere else entirely.

“So, I think we have it,” said Niesner.

From an unimaginable distance, radio signals hit the parabolic dish, were focused, amplified, separated from the background radiation and processed. They ran through long cables into the lab, where they finally appeared in front of him on the screen.

They were clear signals, almost too clear. As Robert wasn’t involved in the Hera project, he lacked the keys to decode it. But none of it came from Philae. If that really was the only probe that was a potential relay, then Mike must have made a mistake.

“Oh, bad news?” asked Thorsten-without-an-H.

He’d correctly interpreted Bob’s expression. Thorsten looked at the clock on the wall. He was probably calculating whether there was still time for his own project. But Robert had bad news for him too. He’d have to exploit his helpfulness once more. Robert sat at the computer and searched for new data. Then he converted it and wrote down the results.

“I’m afraid I’ll need to take a look at these coordinates too.”

Niesner pulled a sad face but didn’t object. He felt sorry for the man. He could be his son. No, not quite, Martin must still be in school.

“Thank you very much,” said Robert. “I really appreciate it. If you ever need a recommendation, I’ll be happy to help.”

“Oh, that’s very kind of you.”

The man sat down and entered the data. Robert was excited. It was just a feeling; any of his colleagues would think it was ridiculous, but something told him things were going to get interesting today.

August 2026, 16, Lunar Gateway

“Can you help me please, Livia?”

Daniel turned around and pointed at his side with his thumb. He’d made a mistake putting on the gloves before doing up the zippers. Livia bent down, then he heard the rattling sound of the zipper.

“It’s quite stiff,” said Livia.

“Yeah, the material fatigues quickly, we should let Mission Control know.”

“Maybe you just ate too much and haven’t been exercising enough.”

She slapped him on the ass with her gloved hand.

“Hey, that’s sexual harassment!”

She was probably right, though. The orange suits, called Orion Crew Survival Systems, OCSS in NASA speak, were tailor-made for each astronaut. But how was he supposed to exercise properly on the four-day trip here? No wonder he was getting fat when he didn’t even have gravity on his side. And, unfortunately, the NASA chefs had learned a lot since his flight to the ISS six years ago. Nothing was too expensive for the Artemis program.

“Are you nearly ready?” asked Dave.

“And this zipper here too, please,” said Daniel, lifting his arms. Livia floated around him.

“There, done,” she said.

“Thanks.”

“Thomzig? Schult? I’m waiting!”

Dave was becoming impatient. He was already buckled into his commander’s seat. He wore an expression of irritation. Daniel never quite knew where he stood with Dave. Sometimes he behaved like a buddy, then reverted back to being the boss. But David Willinger was an experienced astronaut. At 37, he was one of the oldest in the Artemis program.

“Let’s go, Daniel, get your black ass into that seat.”

Nor was he very politically correct. Daniel didn’t mind. The main thing was that he got them all back home safe. He got into his seat, to Dave’s left, and buckled himself in.

“Hey, you’ll get us in trouble,” said Livia. “If you let something like that slip out during live transmission, you’re screwed. It’d be a shame to lose your little white ass.”

Livia was African-American, like Daniel. Two years ago, the first woman landed on the moon as part of the Artemis III crew. Now they were the new pinnacle of diversity here in Artemis VI. The president probably had a hand in it, wanting to score reelection points with groups he’d previously neglected. But no, that wasn’t how NASA worked. Decision-making processes took way too long to be influenced by short-term politics – Daniel already realized this at the age of 27.

“People, you talk too much,” said David. “It’s time to get ready for docking.”

“If we didn’t have to get into the OCSS suits, we would’ve been ready long ago,” said Livia. “I can’t help wondering whose idea they were.”

“If the automatic docking system fails and the Orion crashes into the Gateway and springs a leak, you’ll be glad you’re wearing it.”

“You’re a born optimist, Dave. When was the last time an automatic docking system failed? That must have been in ISS times. If we do crash into the Gateway, then we deserve everything we get.”

“Enough talk. Close your helmets,” Dave commanded.

Daniel pushed the glass visor forward until it clicked into place. Now he was sitting in his own mini spaceship, which warmed and cooled him, provided him with fresh air and removed stale air. He could survive up to six days in an OCSS if Dave’s gloomy warning became reality. Someone had told him during astronaut training that he should never, never, never express such doubts. Always stay positive. But that kind of superstition was obviously alien to Dave Willinger, Commander of Artemis VI.

“Right, I’m now reporting to Gateway,” said Dave. “Autopilot confirmed.”

“Autopilot running,” said Livia.

The station appeared on the screen in front of Daniel. Compared to the ISS, which he’d visited two years earlier, it looked tiny. It seemed to consist of nothing but the SEP – Solar Electric Propulsion System – with its solar panels jutting out into space. They’d dock onto the central module; to their left hung the lander, to the right the pressure module where they’d live. In the middle of the central module a green circle was flashing. The station in lunar orbit was ready for them.

“Gateway online,” he said.

When approaching the Lunar Gateway, they observed the four-eyes principle. Livia or Daniel had to check and confirm every command issued by their captain.

“Mission Control, Artemis VI here, Commander Willinger. Requesting permission to approach.”

“Permission granted. Have fun, you three.”

“Hopefully the reception committee has already laid the table and chilled the beer.”

“Of course, Dave,” said Luna, their CAPCOM. “I’m supposed to ask how you like your steak.”

“Medium rare, please.”

* * *

He was gently nudged upward. Then suddenly everything was still. Daniel was slightly disappointed. In the simulations, there had always been a loud bang during docking. Somehow that would have been more reassuring. And the fact that all the warning sounds and lights went out immediately made it even less spectacular.

“So, here we are,” said Dave. “Mission Control, Artemis VI reporting successful coupling to the Gateway.”

“We confirm that,” said the CAPCOM. In the background they could hear half-hearted clapping. The moon landing two years ago received much louder applause. But Daniel wasn’t bothered. It meant he wouldn’t have to give hundreds of interviews when he returned.

“What can you see on the other side?” asked Dave.

“Gateway status is normal,” replied the CAPCOM. “20 percent oxygen, life support system running, it’s just a little cool.”

“So we can change into our sweats?” asked Livia.

“Don’t you dare! Remember everything is broadcast live as soon as the airlock opens. No more bad jokes, please.”

“That was meant for you, Dave,” said Livia.

“As if your jokes are brilliant!” said Dave.

“Hey, pull yourselves together. We don’t want a repeat of what happened on the talkshows after the launch.”

Willinger had cracked a really stupid joke when they reached orbit two days ago, just as they went live on television.

“Yes, Luna, I’ve learned my lesson,” said Dave.

He actually sounded quite contrite. Willinger was sometimes a little rough around the edges, but he wasn’t a bad guy. He probably would have been more at home among the astronauts of the 1970s.

“Good,” said the CAPCOM. “You can go through when you’re ready.”

* * *

“One, two, three,” said Dave.

He and Livia pushed against the hatch while Daniel braced himself against the soles of their feet floating above him. The dark life support cables hung from them like umbilical cords. The hatch was in the dome of the Orion capsule’s cabin. There appeared to be a slight difference in pressure between the Gateway airlock and their spaceship. The last crew, Artemis V, had reported similar problems. The pressure sensor in the airlock apparently wasn’t working as well as intended and the hatch stuck fast like the lid of a preserve jar.

Suddenly his crewmates’ legs gave way and Daniel was fired upward by the tension in his own body. He grabbed a strut and stabilized himself.

“We’re through,” Dave reported.

A camera drone flew around Daniel’s head, which irritated him. He tried to bat it away with his hand. At least the viewers were seeing some action. A docking maneuver like this was actually quite boring. Maybe Mission Control deliberately maladjusted the pressure sensor? No, the engineers there wouldn’t allow it.

“Congratulations,” said CAPCOM Luna. “Now you’re one step closer to landing on the moon.”

That was true. Although she didn’t mention that it wouldn’t be decided till later which of them would get into the lander. One of them would have to stay on board the Gateway for security reasons, even though there was room for all three of them. Two black Americans, a woman and a man, together on the moon, that would be a powerful image for the media. Although Mission Control insisted they would come to a decision that was best for the mission, they wouldn’t be able to completely disregard external pressures.

“Daniel? You can come through now,” said Dave.

“Mission Control? Can you confirm that?” he asked.

When leaving the capsule, one astronaut had to maintain launch readiness until the station was declared secure.

“Everything’s fine,” said Luna. “Have a nice stay.”

Daniel quickly unbuckled his belt. He wasn’t in any hurry to get to the station, but he wanted to get out of the suit. His bladder was full and if he hurried he wouldn’t have to use the diaper.

Order the book here:

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Copyright © 2020 by Brandon Q. Morris

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www.hard-sf.com

brandon@hard-sf.com

Translator: Noreen Brenner

Editing team: Marcia Kwiecinski, A.A.S., and Stephen Kwiecinski, B.S.

Cover design: Slobodan Cedic, Coverbookdesigns.com