A Step Beyond by Christopher K Anderson Read Free Book Online

recalled how the blue sky had disappeared. Komarov took the vodka from Carter.
    “Not too much,” Komarov said. “Regulations, remember?” “And I thought you were trying to get me drunk,” Carter said, grinning.
    “No, if I were trying to get you drunk, I would have brought bourbon.” They laughed at this.
    “The plane is little more than one giant fuel tank,” Carter continued after he had regained his breath. “There’s fuel in the wings, the hull, the nose, you name it. And as if that wasn’t enough, the scramjets are sucking up the atmosphere for more. Shit, they’d harness my farts if they could figure a way.” Komarov slapped his legs and laughed, and Carter waited until he was finished. “I heard someone once compare the space shuttle to a fish in the ocean carrying along a bag of water to breathe. Well, they finally figured out how to dispense with the bag.”
    “Very good,” Komarov roared.
    “Tell me about your plane,” Carter said.
    “That is where you have finally surpassed us. Our country still hasn’t flown the plane into space with a man aboard, as you know. Our automated flights are proceeding as planned. Our engineers are apparently afflicted with the same fear as yours. They don’t trust pilots.”
    “It must be something they teach them at school. Any idea when they’re going to let a man take it up?”
    “They say ten months. Maybe nine.” Komarov’s thoughts slipped inward as he stared unfocused at the vodka container. Streaks of gray and silver dominated the thick eyebrows of the Russian. Several creases lined his forehead. Even though he had the most coveted of all assignments, leading the Russian team to Mars, a part of him regretted more than anything that Vladimir would be in the pilot’s seat.
    At that moment Tanya Pavlova burst into the cabin and began speaking rapidly in Russian. Carter made out the name of her husband, Vladimir. There was a reddish mark on her cheek.
    She noticed Carter then and stepped away from Komarov as though she had mistaken him for someone else. She looked Carter in the eye. “I am so sorry. Please don’t be alarmed. It is nothing.”
    Carter mumbled a few unintelligible words in reply, attempting to impart his understanding and disguise his curiosity. He knew that she was lying, that she had been in a fight with her husband, and that he had struck her.
    “If you could excuse us,” Komarov said.
    “Certainly,” Carter replied, and turned to leave. He was dumb-founded. He wondered what had happened. The red mark on Tatiana’s face had to have been inflicted by Vladimir. Unless Dr. Satomura had slapped her, and that did not seem likely. No, it was Vladimir, no doubt. One week prior to their departure, and Tatiana and Vladimir were having marital problems. But was there more to it than that? Carter thought he had detected a sort of intimacy between her and Komarov. But he couldn’t be sure. Komarov’s wife, Vyera, was a member of the Russian jet set whose father had been a distinguished and wealthy member of the Russian Duma. She had kissed him good-bye on the launchpad in front of millions, perhaps billions, of people. Komarov had once told Carter that he loved his wife deeply, but also that he was occasionally unfaithful to her and did not feel the two were at odds.
    As he floated toward the docking adaptor, Carter felt a little giddy and disoriented, which was unusual for the small amount of alcohol he had drunk. Because of the absence of gravity, the stabilizing liquids in his inner ear, whose purpose was to maintain a sense of balance, sloshed unrestrained and erratic. He started to feel an uneasiness in the bottom of his stomach, and pushed his way quickly through the corridor toward the waste-management facility at the other end.
    T he voices ceased and eyes looked up as Carter entered the galley the following day. Tatiana Pavlova had been talking. Her husband, Vladimir, was seated next to her, and Colonel Komarov was in the far