Ascent by Jed Mercurio by Ascent (com v4.0)

Author:Ascent (com v4.0) [Ascent (com v4.0)]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-12-14T05:00:00+00:00

THE EYES WERE NO LONGER what they’d been. He told no one, not even the widow. He passed his medical examinations because his sight was no less sharp than any other pilot’s, but it was no longer superior. Age had stolen his hair and drawn lines on his face but worst of all it had taken his eyes.

Another winter decked Graham Bell in snow. The wind drove streams of it across the runways and pushed drifts against the sides of hangars and against the walls of the little redbrick house where Yefgenii had lived with the widow and their two children for eight years now. Yefgenii left the house in darkness and took the bus down to the flight lines that pointed like arrows out into the frozen sea; he flew in darkness and returned home in it.

The new year was 1964. Both the United States and the Soviet Union were planning in earnest spaceflights involving multiple crews that would attempt rendezvous, docking, and extravehicular activity, operations essential for a successful lunar landing.

This time one man travelled to Graham Bell. “My name is Doktor Arman Gevorkian. I come from OKB-1. We’re looking for pilots who are prepared to test some new military hardware. This matter is of the utmost secrecy.”

By now the commanding officer was called Pokryshev. Four had come and gone since Kostilev had completed his tour and progressed to a comfortable administrative post somewhere on the mainland. Pokryshev gave a respectful nod. “Of course, Doktor Gevorkian.”

“I’ve come in connection with one pilot in particular — Kapetan Yefgenii Yeremin. Would he agree to fly with me today?”

Pokryshev’s cheek muscles twitched. “Someone would have to ask him.”

“Is there a problem, polkovnik? I come on the highest authority.”

“Of course, Doktor Gevorkian. I meant no offense. Please forgive me.”

Yefgenii received orders to report to the flight clothing unit. An official from Moscow wanted to interview him.

When he arrived he thought from behind he recognized the man with Pokryshev. His pace quickened toward the diminutive figure looking ill at ease in a life jacket and immersion suit. The man turned and Yefgenii saw that his complexion was olive, his nose was beaky and his thick black eyebrows met in the middle. Yefgenii felt foolish. How could it have been Gnido? Gnido was long dead, so long dead.

Pokryshev made the introductions and then made an awkward departure. Gevorkian looked up at Yefgenii. He’d never seen a picture of him, had no idea what to expect. He hadn’t anticipated someone who looked so sad. That was Yefgenii now, still tall, but gaunt, the white-blond hair all but gone.

The two men stood in the open, in the grayness between an 8 a.m. dawn and 10 a.m. dusk. A freezing wind gusted off the pack ice, carrying showers of hard white flakes. Gevorkian said, “OKB-1 is looking for volunteers.”

MiGs were roaring off the runway a kilometre away; the wind was bringing the sound right to them.

“What did you say?”

“I said, ‘we’re looking for volunteers.’ First-class fighter pilots under thirty-five years of age in excellent physical condition.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.