A Step Beyond Read Online Free

could be superficial. In which case, they could repair the flight deck enough to maneuver the ship. However, the video gives us good reason to believe the damage was anything but superficial.”
    “Could they build a bypass?”
    “They have lost critical circuitry.”
    Schebalin had to agree about the damage.
    “Any other miracles?” he asked.
    “None come to mind.”
    “If their only chance is to repair the
Volnost,
then we will concentrate our efforts on that objective.”
    “Why give them false hope?”
    Schebalin paused at this. “Would you rather give up?”
    “No,” Levchenko replied meekly. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable; although he sympathized with Schebalin’s desire, he did not share his optimism and felt guilty because of it. He didn’t want to appear uncaring, but he had to be realistic.
    “I just—” began Levchenko, attempting to explain.
    They were interrupted by the buzz of Schebalin’s intercom. “Yes.”
    “Sir, the general is here.”
    “Send him in.” Schebalin smiled awkwardly at Levchenko. “I need to speak to the general alone.”
    B ehind a glass panel overlooking the control room sat the wives and a few of the older children. They watched a timer, a computer image in the lower corner of the main monitor, which tracked the remaining minutes of the emergency oxygen supply. Ten hours, forty-three minutes, and fifty-two seconds flashed across the screen, and with each second that appeared and disappeared they knew there was one less breath of oxygen for their husbands, their fathers, to breathe. The cosmonauts had been informed that morning, thirty hours after the explosion, that a rescue attempt would not be possible.
    Each family was waiting its turn to send a final transmission. They were allotted fifteen minutes apiece, and had to wait nearly thirty minutes for the response. Katrina, Gorbatko’s wife, was the first to return. She was smiling, her makeup streaked with tears, and although she walked with her head held high, she had to be guided by two cadets. She did not see the floor before her; her eyes were blank, her thoughts consumed by images from the transmission. As they entered the waiting room, Valentina Titov went over to Katrina and assisted her to a chair. They sat and hugged each other. Katrina cried softly as her eldest son handed her another tissue. Valentina thought of her children, who were home at her husband’s request. He wanted to spare them the ordeal. He would send them a special transmission that they could view at home. Several minutes passed before Valentina realized the two young cadets were still there, standing at attention only a few feet away. She looked up, puzzled.
    “Mrs. Titov, whenever you are ready.”
    Colonel Schebalin would occasionally look up and over his shoulder at the wives behind the glass window, but never for more than a few seconds. He felt guilty, as if he were to blame. Though he told himself that he was no more responsible than anyone else in the room, somehow that didn’t help. He felt the resentment of the wives and children. They did not display it in their faces or in their manner. It was not outwardly evident at all. But it was there. Whenever he looked up at them, they would smile sadly and politely nod, and he felt more uncomfortable than he would have had they been pointing accusing fingers at him. He was certain they blamed him.
    As Valentina Titov was led away to say her final good-bye to her husband, Schebalin looked down at his watch—it was five minutes until the press conference. He headed straight for the bathroom, where he splashed cold water on his face, then grabbed a towel to stop the water from running down onto his shirt. He studied his face in the mirror. His eyes were encircled by dark rings. His lips were pale. He ran a comb through his hair and patted his face dry. It seemed to help. He took several deep breaths, straightened his back, and made for the conference room.
    The room burst into