A Step Beyond Read Online Free Page A

blinding flashes of light as he entered. With his arms waving like a blind man’s, he felt his way to the podium. The flashes subsided, and his eyes slowly adjusted. He recognized several of the reporters; many of them were regulars, assigned exclusively to the Russian space program. He also recognized reporters he had not expected to see, famous television personalities from the United States, Japan, and the European Community. They must have flown in last night, thought Schebalin, shortly after the story broke. The Russian press occupied the first several rows. Schebalin felt perspiration roll down his back; the room was unusually warm.
    “Gentlemen and ladies, I have a short opening statement, after which I will answer any questions you may have.”
    With unusual quickness the conversations stopped, and after a brief rustling of papers and shifting of chairs the room went quiet.
    “At 10:00 A.M. this morning we reached the unfortunate conclusion that a rescue attempt would not be possible. Without the ability to maneuver the
Volnost
, a rendezvous with the supply ship would take a minimum of twenty-seven days. As you know, the reserve tanks held only forty-eight hours of oxygen. The details are outlined in the press kits, which will be distributed at the doors when you exit. The cosmonauts were informed at 10:05. They decided to continue their investigation of the explosion. We have reason to believe the ship was struck by a meteoroid.”
    Several of the reporters started shouting questions, but Schebalin motioned them to remain quiet.
    “The press kits contain everything we know at this point.” He looked back down at the prepared text. “As I stand here talking to you, the cosmonauts and their families are exchanging final farewells. President Kerimov will be speaking with them after the families. At 4:12 A.M., five minutes before their oxygen supply is scheduled to run out, the cosmonauts will confine themselves to their individual sleeping compartments, where they will take a pill that will painlessly end their lives. The Russian Space Agency deeply regrets the lost of these fine cosmonauts. We are conducting an exhaustive investigation and analysis. With the help of the data Commander Titov and his crew are providing us, our intent is to design ships that will reduce the risk associated with this type of collision and ensure that these brave heroes did not give their lives in vain.”
    When Schebalin finished he looked out at the reporters, his eyes moist and slightly pink. He smiled sadly.
    “They were great men,” he said. “I was privileged to call them my friends.” He paused, not sure what to say next. He wanted to express his feelings. There was an awkward silence; for once, the reporters seemed at a loss for words. Schebalin cleared his throat. “Any questions?”
    T itov was floating in midair, his eyes shut, his legs and arms extended. He had just said good-bye to his wife, who, by now, was listening to the first part of his transmission. He had tried to picture her in his mind, her firm, elegant features, the concern in her eyes, her hands and how they would be cupped properly in her lap. He had told her about his fears of what their failure would do to the space program. This troubled him deeply. He did not want to be responsible for the delay their failure would undoubtedly bring. The Russian Space Agency should have waited for the Americans. Combining the efforts of more than one nation could only result in a safer, more reliable mission. Redundancies were not as cost-prohibitive. He had dwelled on these concerns far longer than he had intended, and suddenly only a few minutes were remaining to him. He’d quickly told her to find someone else. Now he imagined her shaking her head, telling his delayed image that it was foolish even to suggest such a thing, while his image continued to talk, ignoring her objections, telling her how much it loved her.
    He had been fine until he had talked to her.