The docking was successful, as planned. Gases, lights, all of it passed - and here I was, standing inside the hangar, under the high ceiling of the DAMIEN station. The rocket, despite its damage, was still intact, but traces of hot encounters with the planet's atmosphere were visible on its body. I exhaled and looked around.
Silence. Not even a robot, as I expected. Overcame space, overcame time, and here I am, but except for my own echo, nothing is heard. No greeters, no applause, no delight, not even the slightest joy for this moment - just emptiness.
I glanced around the hangar. It was huge, and the space inside seemed both scary and empty. No one had come out. Not even the robot that was supposed to be with you always. Some kind of cold, unpersonal world. It seemed as if I should never have been here, that I was just a random element that had lost its way. Had I really started all this for the sake of such endless loneliness? Someone should have met me, understood, if not with joy, then at least with the obligatory formality. But here there was only silence.
I took a step forward, with a strange feeling that none of this mattered. The fear, the expectations, the dreams I had nurtured along the way, were all dissipating in the emptiness around me. The air smelled of something metallic, burnt, and there was no sound to disturb this vast silence.
I looked back again - where are they?
I walked forward, through the corridors of the station, confidently, as if every step had been learned in advance. I knew where to go - after all, six weeks of training on the DAMIEN model in Bangkok had paid off. It was an exact copy of the real station, except for the smells, noises and... emptiness that surrounded me here.
The palette of the corridors was dull and monotonous: gray walls, LEDs blinking in unison, and not a single sound except for the light hum of the life support system. There were no steps, no conversations, no usual bustle. Suddenly I remembered that everything on the model was alive, because there were people - designers, consultants who did not speak the language of robots, but here... here I was alone.
Despite my knowledge, everything looked different. I expected the station to be filled with at least minimal signs of life, but here everything seemed frozen in anticipation. Where were all those people who were always moving around the model, even in empty rooms? Where were the people who were supposed to work, to keep this structure in working order?
I quickened my pace. I needed to get to the main research area in time to conduct the necessary diagnostics. But even this fact could not hide the growing feeling of anxiety, as if I found myself in some kind of performance where there were no spectators, no actors - only scenery.
I turned another corner and found myself in front of the doors that opened easily in the model. Here I felt a strange heaviness. The door was closed.
I walked up to the radio station door, pulled the handle confidently, not expecting anything out of the ordinary. It gave way easily. I stepped inside, and from the very first seconds I was overcome by a strange feeling. The room was dark, only a meager light was shining through the blinds, and it was not enough to see all the details. In the corner, slightly in the shadow, hung a hammock, as if someone had forgotten it there, and children's balls were scattered on the floor, as if someone had just played and left them there. It all looked as if the room had frozen in a moment of some invisible drama, frozen in an unreal time bubble.
I looked around, and then froze. In the very corner of the room stood a man - gray hair, covered in dust and greasy, a brown leather jacket that had clearly survived more than one storm of time. He stood in a pose as if frozen, concentrating on some kind of aerobic exercise. It looked strange - his movements were precise and polished, but there was no grace or usual energy in it. Everything seemed unnatural, mechanical, as if someone had plugged him into the system but forgotten to turn it off.
When I walked in, his eyes darted to me with an expression I couldn't decipher. At first, he froze, clearly shocked by my appearance. His mouth fell open, as if he were trying to say something but the words wouldn't come out, or maybe he didn't understand what was happening at all. It was so strange, so completely out of line with what I had expected.
We stood there in this tense silence, and I felt the temperature in the room begin to rise. My gaze was fixed on this strange man-his frozen eyes, their emptiness, some kind of look behind which there was nothing human. I took a step forward, and somehow simultaneously felt the room shrink around me, as the sounds from the outside world began to disappear.
And then I noticed that behind him there were no usual traces of normal life - no office paper, no devices, no sounds of a radio station. Everything here, in this room, seemed artificial. The hammock, the balls, the man - it was like a dream that at some point was about to collapse abruptly.
The man was silent. He still stood there, frozen in his position, as if he couldn't or wouldn't move. I increasingly felt his eyes, empty and frozen, trying to hide something. He was alive, yes, but there was such horror in it that it was hard to breathe. Why was this man here? Why were his actions so mechanical, so detached from reality? I realized that something terrible was lurking in this room, something that had no explanation.
I walked up to him and said I was a psychologist. He froze in place, and his face didn't change, but his eyes seemed to become deeper, more wary. He began to speak indistinctly, as if he was trying to hide something.
"Who are you?" His voice was harsh, abrupt. "I don't know you. What do you want from me anyway?"
I tried to take a step forward, but there was no reaction from him. He moved a little to the side, as if trying to keep his distance.
"You don't understand," he said, gritting his teeth, "you have nothing to do with this at all."
I tried to make contact, but his answers became increasingly fragmentary and absurd.
"Can't you hear me?" I screamed, unable to contain myself. "I just flew in from Earth, do you even understand? We're not here by accident!"
He seemed not to understand anything, he just smiled, but not for real.
"Yeah, he flew in... from Earth. So what?" His words were saturated with sarcasm, but with a noticeable hint of anxiety. "Do you think I believe these fairy tales?"
I was angry. His behavior was making me nervous, and every answer he gave made me more and more angry.
"What do you want? What do you want from me?" He stepped back, and I felt his panic only growing. "Do you think I'll tell you? Why should I tell you anything?"
I saw how his hands clenched into fists nervously, how he was holding back something, hiding something.
"I didn't expect this," he said finally, looking at me but his eyes avoiding contact. "I didn't think you'd be here, you know? We... we weren't supposed to meet.
I couldn't control myself any longer. My voice broke and I screamed:
"Moddard warned you, damn it! He informed you about my arrival, gave you all the data about my route! How could you not prepare?!"
The man jerked suddenly, his eyes seemed to fill with something like fear or anger, and he began to retreat again, almost hitting his back against the wall. He looked nervously at me, then at the door, as if he was ready to run away at any moment.
"Moddard?" he muttered, as if the word had some special meaning, but he didn't explain why. "He? He didn't say anything... No one knew anything. We all... We all thought that..." His voice was weak, almost unsure.
I tried to hold back, but emotions were overwhelming me. The thought that I was in some kind of nightmare was pulsating in my head.
"Are you crazy?" I came closer, not paying attention to his fear. "You should have been ready! We agreed, the whole station was supposed to meet me, to understand that I had arrived! Why did you greet me here like a leper, and not like a guest you were eagerly awaiting?!"
He jumped up and began to speak sharply:
"You all don't understand! We... We don't know, you weren't supposed to come! It's a mistake, it's all a mistake! Moddard... he told me you weren't coming. So just... just leave me alone! Don't be mad at me, it's not my fault!" His voice was shaking, as if he himself couldn't believe what was happening.
I stood there, unsure of how to react, my mind racing. Why was this? Why wasn't I warned? Why didn't everything go as it should have?
"You mean to tell me that Moddard has been lying to me all this time?" I couldn't believe it. "Is he crazy? We discussed all this!"
The man backed away again, glancing nervously at the door.
"No, you don't understand... All this... everything has changed. Not now, not with you, not with this project! Moddard... he himself didn't know that you would arrive. Believe me!"
"Listen," the man suddenly spoke, turning to me with a nervous expression on his face. "I'm the only one here for now." He glanced around, as if trying to make sure no one was eavesdropping, and rubbed his hands together. "So you'll have to be patient for a while and be content with my company. For now." He looked me in the eye, as if apologizing. "Call me Stainless Steel Rat if you want," he added with a slight grin. "You know me from photos, of course, but that doesn't matter. That's what everyone calls me. So be prepared-there's no other way."
"What nonsense," I said, unable to restrain myself. "What other Stainless Steel Rat? Is that your code name, or are you crazy?"
He looked at me with a smile that was hardly sincere and shrugged.
"No, it's just... Well, if you want, it's my nickname. I don't have any other name here. And I'm not even trying to change it. Everyone around is so used to it that they don't pay attention, and you... apparently, are the first one to ask a question."
I threw my head back, as if trying to take in the absurdity of it all. The station, the space flight, and I seemed to be in the company of some idiot who felt at home in his own world.
"Are you serious?" I asked. "Everyone calls you the Stainless Steel Rat and you live with it?"
He shrugged again, as if such a question was a trifle, not worthy of attention.
"Why not? If you've been here as long as I have, it becomes a habit. Sometimes people cling to something strange to keep from going crazy in a place like this. And a name is just a formality."
His words sounded confident, but something still bothered me. It's a strange feeling when instead of simple, clear explanations there is only uncertainty and strange pseudonyms.
"I want to see Giba-Ryan," I said, deciding it was time to get down to business.
Stainless Steel Rat froze for a moment, as if I had just said something completely inappropriate. He took a step back, his eyes widening and his lips pressed into a thin line.
"Giba-Ryan? You... you don't understand what's going on here?" His voice sounded tense, almost scared."
I felt myself flare up, irritation building inside me like a shell ready to explode.
"What the hell, Stainless Steel Rat?" I couldn't help but raise my voice. "Are you going to lie to me? Where's Giba-Ryan? Why is everyone silent?"
He blinked rapidly, as if trying to compose himself, and the next moment his gaze became more... wary. He rubbed his forehead nervously and shook his head.
"You don't understand," he said quietly. "It's not that simple. Giba-Ryan... he's gone."
I stood up, unable to bear his half-word.
"What do you mean "no"?" I screamed. "Are you kidding? How can you say that? What is this like here? Does everyone just disappear? You're hiding something, I can feel it!"
Stainless Steel Rat stepped towards me, his face became serious, and in his eyes I saw not only concern, but also some kind of fear that made me feel uneasy.
"I'm not hiding it," he exhaled, again avoiding direct eye contact. "I just can't tell you what happened to him. I shouldn't. It's... it's dangerous.
I felt my fingers curl into fists.
"Dangerous? What kind of nonsense are you talking about? What if I want to know the truth? If I'm already here, at the damn station, why won't anyone tell me what happened to him?"
He took a step back and shook his head.
"You won't understand," his voice began to tremble, "you don't want to know what happened to Giba-Ryan. Better leave it. You don't want to find out.
It sounded like a challenge, like something unimaginably sinister, and I felt the air fill with more and more tension with each word he said.
"Yes, you're hiding something!" I screamed, unable to contain my emotions. "Tell me what's wrong with him! You have to tell me!"
Stainless Steel Rat was silent for a long time, and finally his voice sounded muffled, almost a whisper:
"He disappeared. And I'm not sure he was the last one."
"Wait," said the Stainless Steel Rat as I was already heading for the door.
His voice was low and tense. I stopped, turned around, and saw him looking at me with an expression as if he wanted to say something important, but hesitated.
He was silent for a few seconds, nervously fiddling with the edges of his jacket, and I felt that something was wrong.
"There were three of us, and now with you there are three again," he finally said, as if the words were being forced out.
I tried to make sense of his words, but it only added to my anxiety. Who were these "three"? Why was he saying that?
"Do you know Sartorius?" His question was unexpected, but he let out a sigh of relief, as if he had decided that he had finally said something important.
"The same as you," I replied, crossing my arms over my chest. "From a photograph."
Stainless Steel Rat nodded, and then his gaze became more wary.
"He's in the lab, upstairs, and I don't think he'll come out before nightfall, but..." He paused, deep in thought. "At least you'll recognize him."
I felt the tension in the room growing. Something was wrong and I didn't know what.
"If you see anyone else… you know, not me or Sartorius," he said, pausing, "then… be careful.
I pulled my hand out of my pocket and looked at him, feeling a strange uneasiness creeping over me.
"Then what?" I asked, trying to understand what he wanted to tell me.
Stainless Steel Rat looked at me, his eyes darkened, and he took another step back. His face was worried, but there was an almost feral determination in his eyes.
"If you meet someone who is not me or Sartorius," his voice became low, almost a whisper, "run away. Don't ask, don't argue, just leave. You don't understand who we're dealing with. You're not ready for this.
I froze, his words settling in my head like stones slowly filling the space. Too many questions and almost no information. The Stainless Steel Rat was serious, and his gaze said more than any words.
"Why? What's going on here?" I couldn't help but ask. But he didn't answer. He just turned and looked around the hallway anxiously, as if someone might appear at any moment.
I felt as if I was dreaming it all. In front of me, against a backdrop of black waves that seemed to glimmer bloodily in the low, red sun, he sat in a chair with his head down, his eyes turned toward the corner where the cable lay coiled up.
"You... You don't have to do anything," he said, his voice quiet and as if constrained.
"Who do you think I'll see? A ghost?!" I exploded, unable to contain myself.
He looked up, met my gaze, but there was nothing in his eyes except weariness and a strange detachment. He sighed slowly, as if he himself did not know how to explain to me what had long since become his reality.
"I understand, you think I'm crazy. But... not yet. I can't tell you everything at once, it will be hard for you to understand. Maybe in the end nothing will happen. But remember: I'm warning you."
"Warn? From what? What's going on?" I felt something cold tightening in my chest, and despite my best efforts, I couldn't help but feel that he was hiding something important.
He pressed his lips together, his gaze sliding into the dark corner again.
"Control yourself," his words were quiet but firm. 2Act as if... Be prepared for anything. I know it's impossible. But try. It's the only way. I have nothing more to say to you."
I felt my patience almost run out, as the thought exploded in my head that I had to act, to do something. But I held back, because his calm, which seemed such an absurd mask, at some point became familiar to me.
"But what will I see?" I must have shouted this because I was filled with some kind of desperate energy. I could hardly restrain myself from grabbing him by the shoulders, shaking him, forcing him to look me in the eye and tell me everything he was hiding.