There was a moment of thoughtful silence; then Curnow asked, ‘Any other volunteers?’
Everyone seemed so lost in their own memories that the game might have ended there, had not Maxim Brailovsky started it off again.
‘I’d like to be diving – that was just about my favourite hobby, when I had time for one – and I was glad I could keep it up through my cosmonaut training. I’ve dived off Pacific atolls, the Great Barrier Reef, the Red Sea – coral reefs are the most beautiful places in the world. Yet the experience I remember best was in quite a different place – one of the Japanese kelp forests. It was like an underwater cathedral, with sunlight slanting through those enormous leaves. Mysterious… magical. I’ve never been back; perhaps it wouldn’t be the same the next time. But I’d like to try.’
‘Fine,’ said Walter, who as usual had appointed himself master of ceremonies. ‘Who’s next?’
‘I’ll give you a quick answer,’ said Tanya Orlova. ‘The Bolshoi – Swan Lake. But Vasili won’t agree. He hates ballet.’
‘That makes two of us. Anyway, what would you select, Vasili?’
‘I was going to say diving, but Max beat me to it. So I’ll go in the opposite direction – gliding. Soaring through the clouds on a summer day, in complete silence. Well, not quite complete – the airflow over the wing can get noisy, especially when you’re banking. That’s the way to enjoy Earth-like a bird.’
‘Zenia?’
‘Easy. Skiing in the Pamirs. I love snow.’
‘And you, Chandra?’
The atmosphere changed noticeably when Walter put the question. After all this time, Chandra was still a stranger – perfectly polite, even courteous, but never revealing himself.
‘When I was a boy,’ he said slowly, ‘my grandfather took me on a pilgrimage to Varanasi – Benares. If you’ve never been there, I’m afraid you won’t understand. To me – to many Indians even nowadays, whatever their religion – it’s the centre of the world. One day I plan to go back.’
‘And you, Nikolai?’
‘Well, we’ve had the sea and sky. I’d like to combine both. My favourite sport used to be wind-surfing. I’m afraid I’m too old for it now – but I’d like to find out.’
‘That only leaves you, Woody. What’s your choice?’
Floyd did not even stop to think; his spontaneous answer surprised himself as much as the others.
‘I don’t mind where on Earth I am – as long as I’m with my little son.’
After that, there was no more to be said. The session was over.
28
Frustration
‘You’ve seen all the technical reports, Dimitri, so you’ll understand our frustration. We’ve learned nothing new from all our tests and measurements. Zagadka just sits there, filling half the sky, ignoring us completely.
‘Yet it can’t be inert – an abandoned space derelict. Vasili has pointed out that it must be taking some positive action, to remain here at the unstable libration point. Otherwise it would have drifted away ages ago, just as Discovery did, and crashed into Io.
‘So what do we do next? We wouldn’t have nuclear explosives on board, would we, in contravention of UN ‘08, para 3? I’m only joking.
‘Now that we’re under less pressure, and the launch window for the homeward trip is still weeks away, there’s a distinct feeling of boredom, as well as frustration. Don’t laugh – I can imagine how that sounds to you, back in Moscow. How could any intelligent person get bored out here, surrounded by the greatest marvels human eyes have ever seen?
‘Yet there’s no doubt of it. Morale isn’t what it was. Until now, we’ve all been disgustingly healthy. Now almost everyone has a minor cold, or an upset stomach, or a scratch that won’t heal despite all of Katerina’s pills and powders. She’s given up now, and just swears at us.
‘Sasha has helped to keep us amused with a series of bulletins on the ship’s bulletin board. Their theme is: STAMP OUT RUSSLISH! and he lists horrid mixtures of both languages he claims to have overheard, wrong uses of words, and so forth. We’ll all need linguistic decontamination when we get home; several times I’ve come across your countrymen chatting in English without even being aware of it, lapsing into their native tongue only for difficult words. The other day I caught myself talking Russian to Walter Curnow – and neither of us noticed for several minutes.
‘There was one bit of unscheduled activity the other day that will tell you something about our state of mind. The fire alarm went off in the middle of the night, triggered by one of the smoke detectors.
‘Well, it turned out that Chandra had smuggled some of his lethal cigars aboard, and couldn’t resist temptation anymore. He was smoking one in the toilet, like a guilty schoolboy.
‘Of course, he was horribly embarrassed; everyone else thought it hysterically funny, after the initial panic. You know the way some perfectly trivial joke, which doesn’t mean a thing to outsiders, can sweep through a group of otherwise intelligent people and reduce them to helpless laughter. One had only to pretend to light a cigar for the next few days, and everybody would go to pieces.
‘What makes it even more ridiculous is that no one would have minded in the least if Chandra had just gone into an airlock, or switched off the smoke detector. But he was too shy to admit that he had such a human weakness; so now he spends even more of his time communing with Hal.’
Floyd pressed the PAUSE button and stopped the recording. Perhaps it was not fair to make fun of Chandra, tempting though it often was. All sorts of little quirks of personality had surfaced during the last few weeks; there had even been some bad quarrels, for no obvious reason. And for that matter, what of his own behaviour? Had that always been above criticism?
He was still not sure if he had handled Curnow properly. Though he did not suppose that he would ever really like the big engineer, or enjoy the sound of his slightly too-loud voice, Floyd’s attitude toward him had changed from mere tolerance to respectful admiration. The Russians adored him, not least because his rendering of such favourites as ‘Polyushko Polye’ often reduced them to tears. And in one case, Floyd felt that the adoration had gone a little too far.
‘Walter,’ he had begun cautiously, ‘I’m not sure if it’s my business, but there’s a personal matter I’d like to raise with you…’
‘When someone says it’s not his business, he’s usually right. What’s the problem?’
‘To be blunt, your behaviour with Max.’
There was a frigid silence, which Floyd occupied with a careful inspection of the poor paintjob on the opposite wall. Then Curnow replied, in a soft yet implacable voice: ‘I was under the distinct impression that he was more than eighteen.’
‘Don’t confuse the issue. And frankly, it’s not Max I’m concerned about. It’s Zenia.’
Curnow’s lips parted in unconcealed surprise. ‘Zenia? What’s she got to do with it?’
‘For an intelligent man, you’re often singularly unobservant – even obtuse. Surely you realize that she’s in love with Max. Haven’t you noticed the way she looks, when you put your arm around him?’
Floyd had never imagined that he would see Curnow looking abashed, but the blow seemed to have struck home.
‘Zenia? I thought everyone was joking – she’s such a quiet little mouse. And everyone’s in love with Max, after their fashion – even Catherine the Great. Still… um, I guess I should be more careful. At least while Zenia’s around.’
There was a prolonged silence while the social temperature rose back to normal. Then, obviously to show that there was no ill feeling, Curnow added in a conversational tone: ‘You know, I’ve often wondered about Zenia, Somebody did a marvellous job of plastic surgery on her face, but they couldn’t repair all the damage. The skin’s too tight, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her laugh properly. Maybe that’s why I’ve avoided looking at her – would you credit me with so much aesthetic sensitivity, Heywood?’
The deliberately formal ‘Heywood’ signalled good-natured needling rather than hostility, and Floyd allowed himself to relax.
‘I can satisfy some of your curiosity – Washington finally got hold of the facts. It seems she was in a bad air crash and was lucky to recover from her burns. There’s no mystery, as far as we can tell, but Aeroflot isn’t supposed to have accidents.’
‘Poor girl. I’m surprised they let her go into space, but I suppose she was the only qualified person available when Irma eliminated herself. I’m sorry for her; apart from the injuries, the psychological shock must have been terrible.’
‘I’m sure it was; but she’s obviously made a full recovery.’ You’re not telling the whole truth, said Floyd to himself, and you never will. After their encounter on the approach to Jupiter, there would always be a secret bond between them – not of love, but of tenderness, which is often more enduring.