A teddy bear dangled right above Lucy’s head. He had a black nose, pink fur and big eyes. It weighed exactly twenty-three grams and was an important piece of Soyuz equipment. It reminded her of a souvenir Nate had brought back from a conference in Edinburgh once. It was a framed stone inscribed with the words ‘Scottish Weather Station’. If the stone is warm, the sun shines. If wet, it rains. If you can’t see it, it’s fog. For a dog, the instruction manual would look like this. If the dog doesn’t move, you haven’t started yet. If it starts to vibrate, the engines have been turned on. If it jumps, you have left the ground. If it’s floating in the air, you’ve reached orbit. If it burns, something has gone very wrong.
The stuffed animal began to shake. Like her arms, legs, stomach, tongue, eyes, brain – the vibrations spread throughout the capsule. Lucy was sitting, or rather lying, on the left side, huddled and with her knees pressed up to her chin, pushed into a niche made on the basis of a plaster cast of her body; in order to endure several hours in this position, everyone preventively swallowed a horse dose of painkillers.
Every cubic inch had to be used in the cramped interior of the Soyuz’s cabin, and over her head, sheltered in a plexiglass bubble, the baggage compartments bulged to the brim. The commander of the capsule, Anton, was responsible for packing them. If the weight were unevenly distributed, if there were even half a kilo more on one side than on the other, the vehicle would veer off course. And that, when traveling in the vastness of space, was never good news.
“Boost readings nominal,” a voice said in the headset.
Lucy felt the enormous force pressing her into the chair, pressing the air out of her lungs. Forty thousand kilograms of rocket fuel burned beneath it. She looked at the screen: the overload was two g, two and a half, three, three and a half … She wanted to laugh, cry, scream with joy – finally, after eight years of waiting, work, sacrifices, her own and other people’s sacrifices, she breaks away again earth. But she suppressed it, as efficiently and dispassionately as if she were flipping a lever on a control panel or pressing a button. This skill was as important to the astronaut as knowledge of orbital mechanics or first aid techniques. Lucy was constantly watched, assessed and evaluated, even now, in this moment, she had a camera in front of her face that transmitted the image to the control centers in Houston, Moscow, Toulouse and Tsukuba. She knew that even though she was actually playing the role of a passenger on this flight (Anton and Lev were in charge of the flight, and they didn’t have much to do at the moment, since most of the tasks were done by the on-board computer), she had to look serious and focused or else she would find on the radar of the psychologists in charge of the crew. So she followed the readings on the screens, checked the items on the checklist.
“First-degree separation,” Anton said.
She felt as if someone had suddenly taken her foot off the accelerator. The rocket threw back its tail, including empty tanks and four in the atmosphere, like sacrifices to gravity.
– Separation of the evacuation module.
boomed. The spire popped open, housing the thrusters that would have snapped the capsule from the rest of the rocket in a flash in the event of an accident. The most dangerous phase of the flight was already behind them. They could breathe.
– Drop shields.
Light flooded the capsule. Until now, the windows were covered with sheet metal panels. Lucy looked outside. Half of the window was filled with endless blackness, among which glittered stars, as if the same ones she had seen in the night sky, but different: without the shroud of atmosphere, their light was much sharper, more distinct. She felt as if she was choosing glasses at an ophthalmologist and finally found the right ones that show the world as it really is. The earth moved below. It was night over Asia, the city lights were burning. She missed this view. Every day. Anytime.
“Still impressive, isn’t it?” Anton asked.
– Does.
“Second-degree rejection,” Lew read the message from the computer. Of the soaring tower that took off from Baikonur, only the capsule remained. –
Third Stage Ignition… Initiated…
“A view like that in Cupola,” continued Anton. There was mockery in his voice. Challenge.
“Thirteen thousand seven hundred and two miles per hour,” Lucy said, ignoring the provocation.
– We were also flying over Turkmenistan then.
“Development of photovoltaic panels…” The astronaut flicked the appropriate switch. – Initiated…
– Those lights over there are Ashgabat… And over there Bishkek…
“Attention,” came the voice in the headphones. Flight controllers from Moscow. “Signal loss in thirty seconds. Comms back in about twenty minutes. Begin preparations for the first delta-v maneuver.
– I confirm.
There was silence in the cabin. For half a minute. The harsh words that followed were not recorded in the official records.
Station – cover WAB promotional materials
Source: Gazeta
Bruce is a talented author and journalist with a passion for entertainment . He currently works as a writer at the 247 News Agency, where he has established himself as a respected voice in the industry.
