Nadyn Bagout "Not fairy tales"

***

The Experimental Correctional Station, or, toВ put it simply, the orbital prison, has been circling the Earth for almost half aВ century.

The inmates affectionately and ironically called it В«DaisyВ» because ofВ its resemblance toВ aВ multi-petal flower. The visual resemblance, however, was the end ofВ the story.

The multilayered disk with its petal compartments was spinning nonstop around the control module sphere, which also served as an intake and distribution point for new arrivals. However, the West Space Elevator’s delivery pods came no more than once a week, or even less frequently, so the central sector was not under much strain. The fully automated system coped with its task perfectly.

The most dangerous criminals on the planet were kept here: maniacs, terrorists, and also political opponents who were not successful but posed aВ threat. В«The risk ofВ undermining social foundations, the welfare ofВ the population,В» as they called it, those who managed toВ exile their enemies who created obstacles on their way toВ power here. Or perhaps the prisoners here were indeed monsters?

They kept three ofВ them per unit and never all ofВ them were seated at the same time. Old-timers and newcomers were regularly swapped places: one byВ one they were transferred toВ other cells or toВ newly-joined cells. Occasionally, prisoners were given the opportunity toВ communicate not only with their cellmates, but also with other residents ofВ the prison through the internal communication system, but few became buddies or even friends inВ such an environment. The majority suffered from loneliness.

And the owners ofВ the station turned it toВ their advantage.

Maintaining aВ prison inВ orbit was not cheap, even with stably operating space elevators and available energy. Therefore, the ECS became aВ base for experiments: they were always well paid, especially the extreme ones. And where toВ find test subjects for this, if not among criminals? AВ longstanding practice, inВ general.

And if you turn everything into a show… A show, with stakes on the outcome of each experience. A show with stakes on someone else’s life. Will the subject survive chemical blood modification? Will the subject remain sane after exposure to infrasound? Will the bones withstand the wave blows? Will a person be able to descend into the atmosphere without a capsule, only in a spacesuit?

The ECS program has long rivaled the profitability of the best casinos on Earth: the chances of winning are so slim – prisoners almost always go to waste – but the sweeter the desired prize.

Only in recent years, it has become increasingly difficult to understand the true meaning of the station’s existence: the isolation of scoundrels from society plus scientific achievements or, all the same, the spectacle.

Well, anyway, he’s already made up his mind. He can be a lab rat, a clown, a buffoon for a while, if the final result is what they promise. If he wins.

Christophe heard bursts ofВ laughter behind the thin bulkhead ofВ his room: the old buddies managed toВ have fun even here inВ the cage.

At first, when he just arrived here, the other people, the other inhabitants of this enclosed piece of space, seemed a boon. You might say they helped him get used to it. But now the cellmates only got in the way. For three days now – since the announcement of his participation in the descent experiment – they had dissuaded him as best they could. They assured him that it was a lost cause, that no one could manage it, that there was too much unpredictability in the case.

By the devil, he’ll manage to get through the suit and make it all the way down. He’ll go all the way and come back down. And then… then we’ll see.

Yes, everyone on Earth considers him aВ monster, perhaps even his former comrades-in-arms, his friends. But he would explain it toВ them, prove it toВ them. He was right, no matter what. It was worthВ it.

It was worthВ it!

***

InВ the experimental sector A, work was inВ full swing.

Preparing for the descent. The experience was toВ be the seventy-third, unless aВ participant dropped out at the last minute. This was the year that about half ofВ the applicants withdrew from the experiment before launch. Fear, and justifiablyВ so.

Flying down from the station to the stratospheric port, without pods or anything like that, just in a spacesuit – it was scary for her too. Of course, there was a rope, but it was rather for the cameras – so that the participant of the experience did not fly out of sight. And this thin string is not too reliable: even thick webs of space-lift systems sometimes break, but here is only a triple tape of the twentieth order.

Eight toВ ten hours total, if the wearable engines work properly. Eight toВ ten hours ofВ uncertainty and stress for the participant. All for the purpose ofВ testing aВ new suit. Or was it for the show?

A successful descent will give the prisoner his freedom, so one can understand his motives. But why return someone so dangerous to Earth? Take this one, the current one…

AВ middle-aged woman inВ aВ thick, light-colored jumpsuit was scrutinizing the file on the holoscreen.

В«Christophe Jes. Thirty-two years old. White.

Born inВ Spain. Parents unknown.

Boarding School…

School…

Technical University… Included among the most promising graduates.

В«CycloneВ» Corporation, Development Department

Dismissal. Participation inВ protests against the new intrachip.

Video: «The installation of the sixth generation of Cyclone subdural chip is to enslave you! Your habitual assistant will become your controller, your overseer, your judge and executioner! Don’t switch to upgraded programs! Refuse to modify for your children! Our designs are stolen and corrected.

The possibility ofВ total external control is real, and you may even suffer physically: reactions toВ stimulation are not well studied. There are victims inВ experimental groups who are hidden fromВ you.

Get rid of the chip…»

First detentions. Litigation with В«CycloneВ» Corporation and the International Modification Agency.

Involvement in the explosion at the «Cyclone» plant in Monterey. Destruction of three million intrachips. Casualties: thirty killed (five terrorists), fifteen wounded. Damage…»

Yeah, and this guy could end up on the outside, back downstairs! How can you give such a guy a chance? So many people have suffered, died, and he calls them «accidental, but justified victims»! Does trying to save millions – supposedly save millions – justify the death of even one person? «The factory workers were involved…they knew who they were working for…the costs…It’s hard to conduct such an operation without getting dirty.» Jes’s words came up again and again in her brain, making her wrinkle in pain.

Is it possible toВ return such madman?

But it’s not up to her to decide. The corporation expects a super-successful edition of the show: the culprit has managed to become recognizable in the farthest corners of the Earth. The stakes almost broke the record of the biomodeling experience before last (ugh, creepy critter came out then).

The woman turned off the projection, turned around. Through the half-glass door ofВ the A-11В airlock she could clearly see the manipulators being operated byВ her assistants. Metal arms, hoses and visors were completing the final assembly ofВ the descent suit, checking seams, joints, fuel cells, and oxygen cylinders.

InВ ten minutes, the prisoner will be brought in. InВ twenty, he will enter outer space and slowly fly toward his desired freedom.

But it’s not up to her, is it?

***

It took him minutes toВ get into his spacesuit, but it seemed unbearably long. However, he was too impatient, and there were still ten hours ofВ one-on-one time with the space. But when every moment brings you closer toВ Earth, it is difficult toВ remain calm.

His heart was pounding more than usual, but Christophe managed toВ pull himself together: the art ofВ meditation was doing its job even now, when silence and solitude were out ofВ the question.

The suite fit him perfectly – at least the prisoners had learned not to tamper with the cut – and, at first glance, should have done its job. The air conditioning, the humidity and temperature control, the lightweight exoskeleton with reinforcements at the neck, lumbar and joints, the water and nutrient supply tubes-all seemed smartly made, with clear plans to use the suit in the future.

The engine, despite its compactness, weighed on his shoulders and back, pinning Jes toВ the floor, but inВ aВ second the exoskeleton worked at full power, taking and redistributing the weight so that the entire suit began toВ feel no heavier than aВ simple city backpack. Yes, not aВ bad technique.

For some reason he felt truly protected. So much so that he didn’t hesitate to step into the void behind the open mouth of the airlock as soon as the signal sounded.

His palms touched the rope, attaching the last hold, then unfastened the carabiners still holding Christophe toВ the В«DaisyВ», and began the glide into the void, toward the beckoning blue ball. He moved slowly at first, adjusting toВ the position ofВ his body inВ space, recovering his momentarily disrupted breath, but after three hundred meters from the station Jes was fully assembled and, giving the command, started the engine.

Home… High, bright skies and waves lapping on the shore… See you soon…

***

Charlie took a decent bite of the lunch sandwich, unleavened, like cardboard or sawdust. No, he hadn’t lost his taste from worry; it was just that good food was never here. Well, munching on it while you gawk at the descent would do.

They were lucky this time: the petal of their compartment was pointed almost in the center today, so that there was a good view of the descent string – compared to the outer sectors, which would see nothing at all.

Ars came over and looked out the window as well.

«So, we haven’t started yet?»

«That’s right, you’re just in time. Look, the airlock is already opening.»

The buddies clung toВ the glass.

A man rolled out of the airlock membrane and quickly crawled along the cable. Though in his experimental spacesuit he looked more like an insect – a snow-white mixture of a grasshopper and a crunch larva. Slightly flaring engines behind him enveloped crimson glow the frail figure against the background of the huge planet.

«Look how fast he is! It’s as if he’s been preparing somewhere.»

«Hmm… indeed. Maybe he can do it.»

The man was hurtling downward faster and faster. Soon he was nothing but aВ gleaming blob flowing down aВ gray vein.

«I think it’s… it’s lower now, like…» Charlie didn’t finish.

A carmine-yellow flash pierced the darkness. The rope, torn by the explosion, was thrown in the direction of the station. A moment – and nothing more reminded of the failed attempt to return.

«I knew it!» Ars huffed. «I told you they were shooting them with garbage on purpose, and you’re an „accident is an accident.“ Scientists, my ass! A little debris – there’s not many of them flying around, huh? Just bad luck. Boom! Ratings!»

«Why didn’t you tell him?» Charlie sighed and shook his head.

«How could I not?! I warned him. But do they listen? They’re all drawn back… there’s nothing you can do to stop that power…»

Purrer

Purrer woke up earlier than usual today. Softly, but perceptibly, all the nearby compartments vibrated, following the uterine grunt ofВ gears, pumps, filters, and ducts.

«Purrer» is how the stationers nicknamed the orbital gravity drill – a huge structure that occupied almost half of the cruiser, not counting the storage facilities.

Tamor felt the floor shake as he sat down at the communal table. He was on time: he hadn’t even spilled his vitamin shake. The boys, on the other hand, were a little late.

It’s to be expected, though. They’re always sleeping when they get a day off.

It’s all right, they’ll all get a real rest soon enough, and they should just go home.

Rechce stumbled into the canteen, rattling, hooking the doorjamb with his shoulder, as usual.

Yes, the engineers had somehow failed to take into account the fact that new races were involved in the missions. That’s why the golut didn’t fit in half of the aisles. True, we should not forget the natural clumsiness of this snow-white hulk.

Several new threads were added to the cobwebs of small cracks in the light green panels of the hall’s panelling. Rechce, naturally, paid no attention to this.

«Hey, Brigadier!» he shouted loudly as he made his way over to Tamor. «They’re early today, ain’t they? In a hurry. Good, ’cause I’m sick and tired of being stuck here eating this crap… What are they serving, by the way?»

Golut looked at his companion’s plate, grinned dismissively, and rushed to the food counter. The android scurried about, fulfilling his ever-increasing order. In the end, Rechce sat down next to his friend, taking up most of the table with his tray of piled food. Tamor only smiled as he watched the big chunks of meat, bowls of salad, and a whole box of donuts disappear into his friend’s mouth. He himself contented with a couple of sandwiches and two cups of coffee and milk: he was just savoring the last sips.

Golut burped when he ate, spoiling all the fun of breakfast with the stench that came out. It wasn’t the first time, though, and the station men were used to more than that.

«Hey, Tam, do you think, if this is the way things are going, when do you think we’ll be done?»

«Well, if the commander doesn’t change the schedule, three or four days at the most,» he looked out the wide window, behind which a dusty red-brown ball was slowly spinning. «Yeah, that’s about right.»

«I wish,» Rechce patted himself on his hairy belly. «I want to go to my mom’s house to get a decent meal, huh?»

The foreman indefinitely shrugged his shoulders: no one was waiting for him at Tsimfei.

«To be honest, though,» his comrade continued, «I don’t understand why we’re hanging around here at all. Everything important has been taken out long ago, so what else are they looking for? There’s only stone.»

In a sense, he was right: every living thing had been moved years ago – every animal, fish or bird, every bacterium, every tree or seed. Next came water, then metals, and now, really, only ancient rocks and a lukewarm core remained.

«I don’t know… the consul knows best.»

«The Consul, oh, please! No,» golut shook his finger, «it’s his henchman that’s inducing him. Search and dig! More for me, more for me! What’s a man need so much for, I ask you? The capital swindler!»

Behind them rumbled aВ pot that had fallen: the mechanical dispenser had become loose lately, often dropping dishes. The sound echoed through the dining room. AВ rattling sounded sick toВ the ears, and then faded away.

Rechce snorted.

«Oh, yeah! He grabs and saves on equipment. Although… Did I hear the „Purrer“ is going to be decommissioned after this mission?»