Андрей Меньшутин - Последние тайны СССР – Проект Марс 88 Страница 2

But she was wearing casual light overalls which suited her just as well as any other clothes. Sveta has already flown practically close to Andrey and looked at him smiling slightly and a little too attentively… as if she knew what he was thinking about.

In endless space, with its loneliness, cosmic wind and zero-gravity, all the feelings, sensations and thoughts were perceived somewhat differently…

And Svetka with her grayish blue eyes, short fair braids and dimples in her cheeks whom he has known for a long time, seemed familiar and absolutely different at the same time… in general, not like she was on Earth.

Sveta looked into Andrey’s eyes even more attentively and smiled without a shade of suspicion in her eyes. And how wrong she was! He took her hand carefully and kissed on the right dimple. Svetka laughed and said: A space maniac… so that’s the way you say hello now?

Andrey looked at the upper zip fastener of Svetka’s overalls and followed it to the place it began, on her very attractive waist: Hello, Svetik.

Hello, Andrey… Let’s go to look at the harvest, or you will surely do something to my overalls…

Andrey asked himself jokingly whether the whole crew except for him became paranormalists. He knew, of course, that his look at the zip was not left unnoticed, and that was the reason why he looked…

Sveta surely understood all that perfectly, so she smiled coquettishly and slunk like a fish towards the opened door, her favorite greenest compartment. Andrey swam after her in accordance with the instructions, closing the air-tight door to the service compartment after himself.

Svetik, just like she had to do in accordance with her position, but most probably – her calling, was already flying between three-meter shelves stuffed with hydroponic farm stuff. Everything that could be eaten grew here, and there were a lot of vegetables.

Fruit grew for a long time and did so very unwillingly.

The collection of seeds of different plants, practically from the whole world, started to be gathered in the USSR before the Second World War. However, sometimes politicians did not like plant breeders, so this science did not enjoy great support. But sooner or later even politicians understood that it would be hard to move ahead without breeding. And there are a lot of sciolists and just impostors everywhere, and breeding as a science is not to blame.

So you could find practically everything in the biological compartment, even something that probably did not grow on the Earth itself. A part of plants was selected just to produce more familiar oxygen that the one present in the self-contained system of crew life support. However, the majority of these were plain boring containers with all kinds of algae.

A few ordinary Russian birches were especially great, it’s a pity they were small. There were 3 or 4 oaks and about five green conifers… So crew members rarely called this compartment a biological one.

Somebody called it a forest, somebody a winter garden, a jungle, or jokingly a vegetable garden. All crew members often gathered here and started to fool about – play hide-and-seek or shout: Hello! I am lost! Sergey, the crew commander, pretended to be a mushroom gatherer and looked for mushrooms, flying between the shelves… and he found them!

Surely, they did not grow on partitions or the conditional floor. These were ordinary mushrooms from the Earth that were very similar to pleurotus that earth dwellers grew in their kitchens and balconies. And you had to look for them because Svetka often took them to different shelves – mushrooms grew faster than anything else and were eaten just as quickly… You had to eat anything that grew, and mushrooms alone were not sufficient!

-2-

By the start of the MS 88 project, the ordinary “Molnia” had been traveling to space for almost thirty years.

It was called so because it main task was to put “Molnia” communication satellites into orbit.

The rocket turned out to be reliable and even lucky. It was used to launch automatic interplanetary stations to the Moon and Venus, and also Mars which was much farther.

“Luna – 9”, the first space vehicle that made a non-destructive landing on the surface of the Earth’s satellite, was also delivered there with the help of the “Molnia” carrier rocket, but with an “M” index meaning “modernized”.

8К78М delivered five automatic interplanetary stations to Venus alone. The carrier had an almost 100 % reliability ratio, that’s why it was taken as a basis for the project of a manned flight to Mars.

By the time the project was at its final stage, it just had the recognizable appearance left from the usual “Molnia-M”. Inside, the rocket was more similar to “Mir” space station, and only two stages were left of the standard four.

-3-

Time in space, like on earth, goes at different speeds. Sometimes a month flies past like several days, and sometimes one day lasts like eternity!

It is the TIME becomes a threat and a difficulty, just like everything around in the open space. “Solar wind” calms down or strengthens, sometimes it practically disappears… meteorites flash past far or very near, and the “bravest” of these burn in the magnetic field of the spaceship.

This two-hundred-meter magnetic field around MS 88 burned almost completely the dangerous impact of cosmic radiation that penetrated through anything, and besides – high-energy particles of such a set of cosmic radiations that were fortunately not even dreamed of on Earth.

And time does not burn, it is not near and not far – it is always close to you and there is no protection from it! At least, for the time being…

The first month of flight was the fastest and the easiest. While settling in on the spaceship, we got used to it working, not standing in the integration house or training center. And everyday experiments and research were carried out as usual during this period of adaptation on board, so time passed unnoticed.

Everyday duties in space were now performed in the automatic, somewhat background mode. Having come to terms with practically the whole spaceship, now the crew had much more time to pay to themselves in general and everyone separately.

The crew members got to know each other about two months before the flight. The coordinator had a good imagination and liked extraordinary methods and solutions of a great number of problems and tasks that constantly arise during many years of preparation for the start.

It was he who made a decision that the future “Martians” would be trained in quite different groups of cosmonauts. During standard and customary training in Zvezdny camp and other places, they never met and could not see each other, even at a glance.

It takes a long time to fly, so there will be time to get to know each other.

During six month of flight this desire increased or disappeared altogether. Sometimes they gathered together in one of compartments, discussing their cosmic affairs and duties, telling funny stories from the former life on Earth. Laughter and emotions filled the spaceship and there was an impression that the crew was much larger, that there were ten of them at least, not just four.

Mood changed and you felt like being alone for weeks. After a regular shift you went straight to bed, and it was like this for five days on end. When you got enough sleep for the whole month, you felt like devouring books. There were not many of them on board, of course, just about forty, but you could read them over and over again! In this case there was enough until Mars. No, there will be several left as you sometimes get bored with reading.

There were several personal computers, the very first models of them, and you could play “Tetris” or “Pacman”, but there was no desire to pass all 256 levels. Games usually finished on the fifth or sixth level at the most. Even though there is much more time in space than on Earth, there is just as less desire to waste it on these computer games.

And the best remedy against monotony and humdrum of the long flight is this same flight. There is always sufficient work on board a spaceship and you can never do it completely, but it must be done, and the more you work, the more changes the time: it almost disappears and becomes imperceptible.

When all that has been tried out and no longer helps, there is the last and probably the most important method – another person.

-4-

When Svetlana finished her usual duties in the biological compartment, she flew to look for Andrey – he has not been in sight for some time. Well, he is not in the central compartment, not in view of cameras in the corridors between compartments… can he be in the service compartment again, fiddling around with his beloved reactor?

Yes, he was exactly there. However, Andrey was sitting fastened at the working table and reading a thick book… but this was surely better than gloating the reactor.

Instead of saying hello, Svetka asked: Can you tell me how to get to the library?

Well… several million kilometers to Mars… and then it's not far to the Earth – there are libraries on every corner there. If you get lost, ask the first humanoid you meet and he is sure to show you something! – said Andrey, looking at Sveta over his book.

You yourself are a humanoid… And what’s that about – “show you something”? Are you again with your erotic fantasies and platitudes?

No fantasies, no platitudes… how shall I know what he may show you? Maybe he will show you where you get off, – laughed Andrey.

All right there, local wanton. What are you reading there?

I suddenly remembered of Kipling and decided to read him over again.

Are you in your second childhood – decided to read “Mowgli” again? – Sveta started to laugh.

No, it’s not about “Mowgli”… I read it probably when I was 6–7 years old. There was such a cartoon, too – probably the whole country remembers, I remembered the surname of Kipling… And I am ashamed to say that I thought he did not write anything else.

Later I found out that he was a military correspondent in Africa in the times of Anglo-Boer War, wrote articles, sketches and stories about India where he was born and lived, and once also wrote a lot of stories…

I read “Indian Stories”, too, – Sveta put in. They are well written, but there were few of them, I found them in some collection along with other authors.

Just the same – I read them in a collection, Andrey continued:

“English Poetry in Russian Translations, 20th century”, and you see, first there is an English variant, then a Russian translation, and there are even 2–3 variants of translation for the most interesting poems… The poems are stunning, but the main surprise is ahead… – So Kipling was a poet as well? – Yes, and a great one! I still remember some of his lines by heart:

Eyes of grey – a sodden quay,Driving rain and falling tears,As the steamer wears to seaIn a parting storm of cheers.Eyes of black-a throbbing keel,Milky foam to left and right;Whispered converse near the wheelIn the brilliant tropic night.Eyes of blue-the Simla HillsSilvered with the moonlight hoar;Pleading of the waltz that thrills,Dies and echoes round Benmore.Eyes of brown-a dusty plainSplit and parched with heat of June,Flying hoof and tightened rein,Hearts that beat the old, old tune.Maidens of your charity,Pity my most luckless state.Four times Cupid's debtor I —Bankrupt in quadruplicate.Yet, despite this evil case,And a maiden showed me grace,Four-and-forty times would ISing the Lovers' Litany:"Love like ours can never die!"

Yes, this poem is really great… There are few words and it is even short, but very succinct, said Sveta sadly.

He has a lot of poems, but he received the Nobel Prize in 1907 for stories… and he refused to get it! You know, during his whole life he refused all kinds of titles, – remembered Andrey, now distracted from poems, – even the most prestigious one in England: Poet Laureate.

Yes, people were much more modest before… Remember? It seems that Pushkin wrote: What is glory? – A patch on the poet’s sackcloth, said Sveta thoughtfully.

All right, let’s put aside the materialistic side. The saddest thing is that there are no more such poems, – added Andrey.

Besides the poems themselves, many authors in this collection have interesting and tragic lives, full of events… Many of them went to the First World War, some died, and some died later but from the wounds of war anyway, Andrey continued.

It’s sad but it’s life… You’d better recite something else, asked Sveta.

One of Kipling’s best – “If”. There are a lot of translations, but Lozinsky probably did best of all:

If you can keep your head when all about youAre losing theirs and blaming it on you,If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,But make allowance for their doubting too;If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,Or being hated don't give way to hating,And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:If you can dream-and not make dreams your master;If you can think-and not make thoughts your aim,If you can meet with Triumph and DisasterAnd treat those two impostors just the same;If you can bear to hear the truth you've spokenTwisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:If you can make one heap of all your winningsAnd risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,And lose, and start again at your beginningsAnd never breathe a word about your loss;If you can force your heart and nerve and sinewTo serve your turn long after they are gone,And so hold on when there is nothing in youExcept the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,Or walk with Kings-nor lose the common touch,If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,If all men count with you, but none too much;If you can fill the unforgiving minuteWith sixty seconds' worth of distance run,Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,And-which is more-you'll be a Man, my son!

It looks like a motto of the whole generation, said Sveta thoughtfully.

Andrey continued:

The world's a stage. The trifling entrabce feeIs paid (by proxy) to the registrar.The Orchestra is very loud and freeBut plays not music in particular.The do not printing programme, that I know.The cast is large. There isn't any plot.The acting of the piece is far belowThe very worst of modernistic rot

This is Belloc, – Andrey finished reciting.

Yes, the style is quite different and it is more philosophical, – summarized Sveta.

You know, it’s sad… The beginning of 20th century was the golden age of poetry as an art, but now it’s gone… There is poetry and there are poets, but there is no art, and I am afraid there will not be, he said thoughtfully.