Table of Contents

Character Gallery

Table of Contents Page

Title Page

Map and Characters

Copyrights and Credits

Prelude: прелюдия

Chapter 1: The Nosferatu Project, Mission Complete

Chapter 2: A Maiden’s Prayer

Chapter 3: The Final Cosmonaut Exam

Chapter 4: Further than the Moon

Chapter 5: A Cold Spring

Interlude: интерлюдия

Chapter 6: History’s First Cosmonaut

Chapter 7: Hero of the Motherland

Chapter 8: To a New World

Coda: постлюдия

Second Movement: The Silver-Haired Vampire

Afterword

From the Author and Artist

Newsletter

Prelude:
прелюдия

Black Dragon’s Eyes
• очи цирнитра •

DECEMBER 12, the day Irina flew through space. In a meeting room of the Sangrad headquarters of the secret police—a group known as the Delivery Crew—an operative stationed at the Albinar Cosmodrome reported to the chairman and top brass via radio.

“Irina Luminesk has made a safe return.”

Applause and cheers could be heard in the control room on the other end of the radio, but there wasn’t a single smile upon the faces of the Delivery Crew leadership. The chairman’s brow creased as he frowned. His words were cold and emotionless.

“When she is no longer useful, ensure she is disposed of.”

The atmosphere in the room was heavy, still stained with a time in which human rights were trampled underfoot. A time of countless purges.

Anything that inconveniences the motherland will be erased.

Those who wore the badges of the secret police carried out their duties loyally and without question. They had little in the way of sympathy, even for their fellow man. And if their target was not a human but a test subject? One of the Nosferatu? Their work was even more straightforward.

Only recently, a young man and woman had been discovered as spies for the United Kingdom of Arnack. They were dragged to a basement, interrogated, and tortured.

No one knew what became of them.

Chapter 1:
The Nosferatu Project, Mission Complete

Indigo Eyes
• oчи индиго •

AT LONG LAST, the cold breath of Moroz ceased its whipping winds, and a vibrant white light spilled from between the clouds. A fine snow danced upon the Palma Plains as the Union’s rescue vehicle kicked up dust, speeding toward the Albinar Cosmodrome. Inside the vehicle, a medic looked at Lev and Irina, who’d just been rescued from the freezing, snowy plains.

Lev sat on the simple bed as the medic attended to his injured knee. The bleeding had stopped, but his knee was swollen, and it still pulsed with pain.

“Ow…”

“You’ve got very bad bruising, and you might be looking at bone damage. Make sure to get it properly checked out.”

Lev nodded weakly as the medic handed him some crutches. He knew that if anything was broken, he could say goodbye to his dreams of going to space. Back when the Union had sifted through three thousand potential space program candidates, they’d immediately expelled anyone with past injuries. It wasn’t just his knee Lev had to worry about, though.

“Achoo! Ugh…”

Lev had pushed himself too hard in subzero temperatures and was now racked with chills. His body shivered uncontrollably.

By contrast, Irina lay silent, still wrapped in her orange pressure suit. She’d hit her cheek when she landed, but she was otherwise completely fine. Her body temperature and blood pressure were normal, and there were no immediate signs of adverse reactions to her trip through space. She stared somewhat absentmindedly at the necklace resting in the palm of her hand. Was she thinking about it? About space?

As he sipped a cup of warm tea, Lev thought back to the conversation he and Irina had as they waited in the snowy plains for the rescue team to arrive.

***

The two of them huddled together under the cover of a parachute, attempting to stave off the cold.

“My body feels so heavy,” Irina said. “It’s like it was all a fleeting dream…” As if filled with stardust, her eyes sparkled behind her long, frozen lashes.

“What did Earth look like?” Lev asked through chattering teeth.

Irina closed her eyes. In a quiet voice, like she was counting precious treasures, she said, “It was wrapped in a transparent blue veil…and it was so beautiful. It was strange to look at it and think ‘That planet is my home.’ The stars were like flowers, like chervils. I could see the moon so clearly. I thought, ‘I really want to go to the moon.’ And then I thought… ‘I don’t want to die, not yet…’”

Even while her body froze, Irina’s fiery passion for the skies still burned brightly in her heart, and Lev felt his own admiration of space grow along with it. However, he didn’t know what chervils were, so he asked.

The vampire girl laughed. “They’re small, white, and very cute. You should look them up at the library.”

Lev observed her sitting there, looking so calm and serene, and he felt like their hearts were in sync.

“Lev… I…”

“Hm?”

“When I looked at the moon, I had a thought… I…”

Irina lowered her gaze bashfully, but before she could continue, they heard the sirens of the rescue team closing in. She instantly leaped away from Lev and clamped her mouth shut. Instead of voicing her thoughts and feelings, she watched as Lev was treated for his wounds.

“You humans are so utterly weak,” she said.

In no time at all, she’d returned to being just as sharp, cold, and standoffish as when they met two months ago. It was such a stark contrast that Lev wondered whether the girl he’d seen crying in the cold had been an illusion. Regardless, she had returned in one piece, and for that Lev was happy. Still, one thought in particular gnawed him relentlessly.

Was Irina really destined to simply vanish from history?

***

When Irina and Lev returned to the Albinar Cosmodrome, they were taken straight to cozy employee lodgings. As they entered the warm lobby, the scent of a kerosene stove tickled their noses. Thirty-some people—state commission members, engineers, and technicians—stood there to greet them. However, unlike the toasty stove nearby, the attendees were awfully cold. There was no applause, no praise, and no celebration.

Everyone kept their feelings in check, looking at one another, unsure of how to respond to Irina’s return. The girl was a test subject, and they all knew they were supposed to treat her as an object. So strong was the silence that the quiet whoosh of the stove’s flame echoed throughout the room.

Anya, standing in one corner of the lobby, shot Irina and Lev an apologetic look. She gently clapped her fingertips together, careful not to make a sound. Lt. Gen. Viktor glared at Lev on his crutches, and Dr. Mozhaysky twiddled his mustache as if he had something to say.

Lev was torn between rage and sadness at this silent welcome for Irina. These were the same people who had joyously celebrated her successful arrival in space from the blockhouse, yet with Irina now in front of them, they wouldn’t give her so much as a “good job.” Irina herself was unsure how to act, so she simply stared at the ground, gripping the sleeves of her pressure suit.

Just as Lev was about to try to lead a round of applause, a triumphant voice filled the air.

“You were magnificent!” Korovin shouted, striding toward them with a flushed face. “What’s wrong with the lot of you?! We must celebrate! To the safe return of Comrade Irina Luminesk!”

With grandiose, exaggerated motions, Korovin clapped. It was a sign, a signal; once he gave it, the engineers raised their voices in a chorus of victory and hugged each other with glee.

“Hooray! We did it!”

“Welcome back, Irinyan!” Anya hopped forward like an excited puppy. Behind her, Dr. Mozhaysky and Lt. Gen. Viktor grinned.

Lively in its celebrations, the group surged forth and swarmed Lev and Irina. Relieved, Lev looked at Irina to see her blushing as she played with her bangs, embarrassed by all the attention.

“How about joining in a little?” he asked.

“All I did was sit in the rocket cabin…” It was impossible for Irina to hide the awkwardness she felt. This was the first time humans had celebrated her efforts.

Unable to contain his excitement, Korovin placed his hands on Irina’s shoulders. “How was it in space?”

“How was it? Uh…” Irina grappled for the words to convey her thoughts, but then she glared hard at Korovin. “Your engineers did a horrible job. I almost died from the heat. Next time, you’d better make sure you prepare something sturdier. How am I supposed to be satisfied with that bucket of bolts?”

Korovin was a genius, a scientist feared even by the United Kingdom, yet Irina had just hurled complaints directly at him. His eyes widened with shock. However, it was clear from the laughter that followed that he had a soft spot for her sour attitude.

“Ha ha ha! I appreciate your honesty! Did you hear that, folks? She called our rocket a bucket of bolts! We’ve got some work ahead of us, and nobody’s sleeping until it’s done!”

Irina had meant it as an insult, so she was left momentarily speechless.

Korovin, for his part, began another round of applause. “We can save all the space and rocket talk for later! Right now, it’s time to celebrate our comrade’s safe return, and we’ll do it with her beloved nastoyka! Oh, wait a minute.” He turned to Irina. “Unfortunately, you’re not allowed to drink anything until after your health checks!”

Up in space, Irina had been under strict orders to read only the recipe she was given. But she’d broken the rules and sent a message to Lev, sharing her feelings by talking about nastoyka, his favorite drink. Everyone besides Lev now assumed it was her favorite drink.

“N-nastoyka’s not really my thing anyway…” she muttered.

The gathered engineers shouted about buying nastoyka somewhere while Irina looked at her feet with beet-red cheeks. Only Lev knew why she was so flustered and embarrassed.

On the outskirts of the revelry, the stone-faced state commission members and Delivery Crew attendees swapped murmurs, then summarily left. Would it kill you guys to smile once in a while? Lev thought, gripping his crutches tight in his fists.

None of them saw Irina’s life as valuable. The explosives they’d installed in her rocket cabin said it all.

***

That night, Korovin ordered an official celebration. It took place in the cafeteria of the employee dorms; about thirty people in total attended. A phonograph played the Union’s national anthem, and the long banquet table was lined with sour-scented borscht, cans of caviar, glasses of nastoyka, and cheeseburgers.

There were no decorations save for national flags, which gave the event a no-frills atmosphere. Even an everyday birthday party would’ve been a brighter affair. It was such a small-scale celebration for a literal historical first, and all because the Nosferatu Project was a national secret. Many people working on-site had no idea the launch had even involved a vampire.

“We will devour the United Kingdom and all who challenge us, just like this! To victory!”

At Lt. Gen. Viktor’s powerful words, everyone took a bite from their cheeseburgers. It suddenly felt less like a celebration and more like a political rally. None of it meant anything to Irina, who sipped at her borscht and continued to feel out of place.

“So stupid,” she said with a pout.

Lev sat by her side, sweat running like a river down his face. He looked completely and utterly exhausted.

The boredom and disinterest on Irina’s face turned to worry. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m kind of…in terrible pain…” The painkillers had worn off. Lev’s knee and head throbbed fiercely.

Korovin noticed immediately and lambasted him. “A cosmonaut’s body is their most valuable resource! Those unable to look after themselves are undeserving of the title!”

“My apologies, Chief…”

Having been thoroughly chewed out, Lev left the celebration early and headed to the hospital on the outskirts of the base.

As he was leaving, Lt. Gen. Viktor informed him of the schedule for the next few days. “Irina and the Chief will head to Sangrad to report the flight log at a closed-door central committee meeting. Then they will return to LAIKA44. You’ll come back to LAIKA44 with the rest of us.”

Lev was curious about the central committee meeting. He had a feeling they’d talk about more than the flight logs—they’d also discuss Irina’s future as a test subject. Lev still felt the poison of Roza’s words—that Irina would be “disposed of”—swirling in the far reaches of his heart.

He began, “As her supervisor, wouldn’t it be best if I accompanied—”

“Best if you what?” Lt. Gen. Viktor cut in, cracking his knuckles. His gaze could have given Death a run for his money.

“Nothing, sir.” Lev backed down, well aware of how many orders he’d disobeyed recently. Still, the ominous sound of a closed-door meeting had planted a seed of uncertainty in him.

***

The next day, Lev returned to LAIKA44 and took a good look around town. Like at Albinar, there were no signs of celebration at Irina’s successful spaceflight, and the days had carried on as usual. The centrifuge Lev had destroyed to save Irina had simply “broken down”; Franz had been “transferred,” and a new engineer came to take his place as if nothing ever happened.

It was suspected that Korovin’s political rival, Graudyn, had been behind Franz’s actions, but Franz was eventually declared a solo actor, and further investigation was deemed unnecessary. Though it seemed a higher power was at play behind the scenes, Vice-Director Sagalevich said nothing. The candidates had access to no more information than that.

Natalia, the covert Delivery Crew agent, had returned to playing the role of dorm matron and continued her surveillance in disguise.

When Lev encountered her at the service counter of the cafeteria, she sent him on his way with an added whisper. “Be sure to forget the incident, okay?”

Her voice was soft and gentle, but the cold gaze behind her glasses was not a dorm matron’s; it could have frozen steaming-hot soup.

After a thorough medical examination, Lev learned his knee bone hadn’t suffered damage. That was a huge relief, but it was still a bad injury and would take two weeks to fully heal. His knee screamed with pain, as if someone were bending it forcefully with a pair of pliers.

Leaving the cafeteria, Lev walked on his crutches toward the solitary cells. Along the way, he stared up at the stars twinkling in the night sky above.

“She really made it up there…”

Irina had performed an amazing achievement in spaceflight, and it was completely invisible to anyone unconnected with the project. Since people in both LAIKA44 and Albinar were in the dark about her flight, there was no doubt in Lev’s mind that ordinary citizens outside those space development epicenters had no idea it had happened either.

Scientists and engineers, workers on the nation’s collective farms, citizens of the Union, and people around the world in their respective countries simply lived as they always had. They worked when the sun was up, and they slept when the moon took its place. Every single day—be it yesterday, today, or tomorrow—they trundled along without change.

It was heartbreaking to think of just how little proof there was of Irina’s amazing flight through the reaches of space.

***

December 15, three days after launch. When Irina returned to LAIKA44, Lev was called to the Director’s Office. He no longer needed crutches, but his knee still hurt, and he walked with a limp.

“Lev Leps, reporting!”

He stepped into a haze of cigarette smoke to find Korovin sitting in his armchair. With him were Lt. Gen. Viktor and Irina, dressed in military uniforms. It had only been three days, but it somehow felt much longer. Lev didn’t ask what had transpired at the central committee meeting, but seeing Irina’s usual smug arrogance was something of a relief.

Korovin dragged deep from his cigarette and gave a satisfied nod. “The Nosferatu Project was a success, and we know what needs to be done going forward. You have my thanks,” he said.

Although Irina had returned safely, there were a total of twenty-two unexpected areas—such as the damaged antenna—needed revision. Those were expected to be improved or repaired before the next launch.

“The test flight might be complete, but the central committee has decided that Irina Luminesk’s physical examinations should continue for the foreseeable future.”

Irina’s physical condition was in stable, normal ranges, but it was possible that the effects of gravity and cosmic rays would take time to show. For that reason, her body weight and x-ray data would be monitored. Lev glanced at Irina, but her expression didn’t change. She stayed rooted to the spot.

“And as for you, Lev…”

“Chief!” Lev cried, standing at attention.

Two months ago, when Lev had stood here in this very spot, Korovin said he expected great things. Those words had given Lev a thin ray of hope that Korovin meant his potential reinstatement as a cosmonaut candidate, and now he would know for certain.

Lt. Gen. Viktor wore a stern, grave expression as he brought forth a letter. The room filled with an awful silence. Lev gulped.

“Comrade Lev Leps,” said Lt. Gen. Viktor, his voice low and heavy. “In recognition of your achievements…you are hereby officially promoted to the position of cosmonaut candidate.”

“Understood, Chief!” Lev’s hands balled into fists. He could hardly contain his joy.

Still, Lt. Gen. Viktor made a point of hammering in the gravity of the moment. “Be sure to follow the rules, or you risk another demotion.”

“Y-yes, sir!”

Cold sweat dotted Lev’s brow. Beside him, Irina grinned and shook her head. Korovin tapped his cigarette into the ashtray on his desk and stood from his chair to face Lev.

“Returning to the candidate fold does not guarantee you will fly,” he said. “The graduation examination and final candidate-selection process will take place on the seventeenth and eighteenth of January. If you graduate, you will be an officially qualified cosmonaut. Should the Mechta Project proceed without issue, launch is scheduled for spring.”

“Spring…” Lev’s heart pounded at the realization of how soon that was.

“Along with being reinstated as a candidate, you will move back to the dormitory.”

He would be out of the solitary cells—in other words, they were separating him from Irina. A sudden bout of loneliness tugged at him. He knew he couldn’t tell Korovin that he wanted to continue living in solitary confinement, but he could still ask about it in his own roundabout way.

“What about supervising Irina?” Lev inquired.

“Your position will be left to her data-gathering supervisor, Anya. At any rate, Irina is expected to be transferred to the Sangrad Military Institute of Medical Science in the near future,” Korovin replied, turning his gaze on Irina.

“Understood,” she said.

It seemed Irina had already been informed of the transfer. For a brief moment, she glanced at Lev, and something pierced his heart. She would soon leave for a place he could not reach so easily.

Feeling a surge of impatience, he launched into a question without even asking permission to speak. “When will this transfer happen?”

Korovin breathed out a lungful of smoke. “It has yet to be decided. Once all the preparations are complete, I suspect. We’ll likely know in about a month’s time.”

Irina said nothing. Perhaps all the arguments had already gone back and forth at the meeting of the central committee, but Lev himself was still full of worries.

“After the physical examinations conclude, will she return to the space development program?”

A hint of suspicion flashed across Korovin’s eyes in response to the ongoing questions, and he pointed his cigarette at Lev. “Are you more concerned with her than your return to the candidate team?”

He’d hit the nail right on the head. Lev played it off with a wave of his hand. “Erm, o-of course not,” he answered quickly. “Never.”

He realized then, however, that he was more concerned with Irina’s fate than he’d thought. However, Irina seemed uninterested in the conversation and merely stared out the window.

“Listen to me, zilant.” Korovin crushed his cigarette butt into the ashtray and turned his powerful gaze back on Lev. “Should you graduate and become history’s first cosmonaut, you will bear that responsibility for the rest of your life. The words that come out of your mouth will no longer just be your own. You will be devoting your life to our motherland, and that may involve sacrificing your connections with those you love. Are you prepared for that?”

The Union’s national policy was “All citizens are equal.” That also meant no individual citizen was special, or allowed to be treated as such. But when the manned spaceflight was eventually made public, it would result in the first national hero since the Union’s foundation forty-five years ago. The cosmonaut would devote their life to their motherland to stand on the battlefield of space, representing the Union’s two hundred million citizens. That was what Korovin was asking of Lev.

Lev looked him in the eye and answered clearly. “Of course. My dream is the dream of our motherland.”

“Very good,” Korovin said, his eyes narrowing as he continued. “But first things first—you won’t be able to even take part in the test unless your leg heals up.”

“Yes, sir…”

Fortunately, there was still a month before the exam. Being unable to exercise for a little while would put him out of peak shape, but Lev was determined to prepare to the best of his abilities.

“You have done well, zilant. I look forward to seeing you again.”

Korovin thrust out his hand, and Lev shook it. The rough, thick-skinned grip reminded Lev of his father, who’d worked the farm in his hometown.

Korovin then offered his hand to Irina. “You also have my gratitude,” he said.

Irina stared at the hand in front of her, but she did not reach for it. Instead, she shrugged and shot Korovin a cheeky grin.

“Why would I care about the gratitude of some unknown old man?”

Irina understood, just as Korovin did, that his very existence was a national secret so confidential that most only knew him as “the chief designer.”

In response, Korovin merely scratched his head, defeated.

Chapter 2:
A Maiden’s Prayer

Scarlet Eyes
• oчи алый •

DECEMBER 31. The new year approached, and LAIKA44’s facilities were silent. Two weeks had passed since Irina and Lev parted ways. Irina no longer had any training, and her days were full of tests and medical examinations.

Irina wasn’t under constant observation, but LAIKA44 was a walled city; escape was impossible. Still, the vampire girl felt a little dizzy when Anya said she’d been told to carry tranquilizer needles. Irina realized then that it wasn’t just escape the higher-ups were worried about but potential psychological disorders caused by spaceflight too.

Full-body photographs were taken of her upon waking and before sleeping. Those were filed away with exam reports under the title “N44.” Irina didn’t like how similar it all felt to the way they handled animal test subjects.

Her physical condition and mental state were consistently stable, however, so the paranoid doctors and scientists finally began to relax around her. Her meals were the same as before, calculated for nutritional value. Outside of the tests, she exercised lightly to maintain her health.

To help pass the time, Irina received jigsaw puzzles, a radio, textbooks, and the weekly citizen’s paper The Istina. However, having just experienced a trip into space, she was utterly bored by her new life of labs and snoozing. She even found herself yearning for the view from a parachute high up in the sky.

She knew Anya was doing her best to make things bearable, but without Lev in her life, Irina felt as if she were wandering through a colorless world.

“The year’s almost over…”

Irina sat on her coffin in the freezing cold of her solitary cell, comfortable in just her military jacket, and looked back on the last year of her life.

She could picture the men in black who had appeared in her village to headhunt, and she remembered the examinations she endured as part of the test-subject selection process at the Military Institute of Medical Science. However, the memories clearest to her were from her two months here in the city of LAIKA44. She had met Lev, experienced all sorts of new training, come into contact with the culture of the species she despised, and—for the first time in her life—forged a bond of blood.

Although she hadn’t been able to tell Lev, Irina had felt comfortable joy rush through her body when she sucked his blood. She couldn’t summon its taste or smell, but she vividly recalled the warmth of the blood passing down her throat and settling in her stomach, as well as the feeling of power surging through her body. It was enough to give her goosebumps.

She wanted it again. She wanted to drink his blood over and over.

But Irina felt embarrassed at the thought of asking to suck Lev’s blood and was certain he would hate her if she did. She took those feelings and tucked them away deep within herself.

Above all else, the biggest moment of the year had been Irina’s foray into space, when her dream had come true. When she closed her eyes, the glorious view played across her eyelids, and even now it shook her body and soul. Seeing Earth from space had cleansed her heart of the darkness she’d carried, soothed the hatred she’d shouldered since the day humans murdered her parents, and sated her hunger for this human-dominated world to be destroyed. However, as soon as she returned to Earth, reality had crashed back down on her.

She thought back to the meeting of the central committee, and her heart fluttered. She heaved a heavy sigh.

During the closed-door meeting, Irina had stood with Korovin before government officials. In the private meeting hall, she’d reported the contents of her flight log and her experiences in space. Everyone listened in quiet excitement, rubbing their chins and nodding and muttering, but there was no applause. No cheers. The strongest reaction was to a comment in the flight log that read, “There is no sign of God in space.”

“The god you believe in simply was not there,” Irina told them.

At that, a small section of the meeting hall burst into an uproar.

“Well, of course a member of the cursed race couldn’t see God!” someone shouted. Others coughed and sputtered in disbelief.

Numerous people around the world believed that God floated above Earth, watching over them. It wasn’t crazy to think that there would be far worse upheaval if it was announced that such a god did not exist. Thus, Irina was ordered not to speak on the matter.

At the end of Irina’s report, the committee settled on a decision: Should there be no adverse reactions in the test subject, a manned flight could take place in spring of the following year.

As compensation for her work, Irina would be rewarded with, in the committee’s words, “payment for her research cooperation and a cozy dacha in a resort location.” Irina did not believe a word of this, knowing it was just a means of pacification so she’d submit to her physicals, but she said nothing at the time.

At the conclusion of the meeting, Korovin was apologetic. “I believe in your abilities, Irina, and I would like you to take part in our future projects too. However…”

Korovin trailed off, but no other words came. He was usually full of confidence, yet in that moment, he could only scratch the back of his neck anxiously. Perhaps he could not say, or perhaps nothing had been decided yet. Irina didn’t know, so she fell back on her usual attitude.

“I recognize your achievements also,” she had replied. “Should there be another opportunity to join one of your endeavors, I would consider it.” She’d felt her voice waver near the end, but she refused to beg for her life.

The truth of the matter was that Irina’s claim of an invitation to work within the design bureau—the “secret” she’d revealed to Lev—was simply not true.

Reflecting on it now as she sat in her coffin, Irina let out another sigh.

“I lied to him…”

Lev had been so concerned about her that, before she realized it, she’d said what she did. She was glad that he cared enough to worry, but she couldn’t let herself get in the way of his upcoming exam. It was thanks to him that she’d realized her dream of going to space, so now, she wanted his dream to come true too. Her little lie was the very best she could muster.

Irina wanted to see Lev selected as a cosmonaut, but she was embarrassed at having cried in front of him, so she’d continued to act curtly. She wanted to apologize for his injury, which he’d gotten when he came to rescue her, but she’d ended up poking it instead.

“So many regrets.”

Irina mussed her hair with her hands and rolled around in her coffin. She never meant to show Lev her weaknesses, but whenever he was by her side, it put her heart at ease. Now, the cell next to hers was empty.

If Lev did become a cosmonaut, where would she be then? What would she be doing? Would she still be alive and living a proper life this time next year? Her doubts and fears piled up like relentless snow, burying her to the point of suffocation.

Irina took off her necklace and held it up to the room’s dim light. In the clear blue crystal, she saw Lev’s eyes.

“Lev…”

The thought of his injury had nagged at her, so she had asked Anya about it. Apparently, Lev still couldn’t run a full sprint on his knee. It pained Irina’s heart to imagine that the injury she had caused might be the reason he wasn’t chosen as a cosmonaut.

Irina sighed for the umpteenth time. Twirling her bangs with her fingers, she continued to let out little huffs.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. “It’s Anya. I’m coming in.”

Irina quickly grabbed her copy of The Istina and pretended to be bored of reading it. She didn’t want Anya to see her looking depressed.

Anya stepped into the room dragging a sack the size of her own body. “And…there we go! What do you think? Heh heh…”

Anya pointed to the sack with a giggle. Sensing danger, Irina threw away her copy of The Istina and hid in the shadow of her coffin.

“Wh-what is that? I’m not doing another of your weird exams…”

“No! It’s a costume for celebrating the New Year!” Anya stuck her hand in the sack and pulled out a colorful garment. “I managed to get a hold of some traditional Lilitto folk costumes.”

“Oh…”

Irina remembered the dresses and clothes kept in a dedicated room of her family’s castle. It was a dim, hazy memory, but she’d seen her mother and father wear those traditional outfits.

Anya laid the garment on top of Irina’s coffin. “This one is from before the war, so the threads are a little frayed.”

There was an elaborately embroidered blouse with vivid colored beads, a goatskin vest with flower patterns, a collar embroidered with butterflies, and a striped wraparound skirt. It was as if wonderful spring fields had bloomed with colorful flowers inside the dim cell.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Anya said in a singsong voice as she excitedly put on the blouse.

“Why did you do this? Did someone order it?”

“No. I just wanted us to celebrate the New Year together.” Irina’s jaw dropped as Anya passed her another blouse. “This one is yours. Go ahead, put it on!” she prodded.

“Well… I suppose if you went to the trouble of bringing it here, I’ll do you the favor of wearing it…”

Irina made a show of begrudgingly taking the blouse, but the truth was that she wanted to wear it. It was adorable. She put on a strong front and acted mature, but inside, she was just like any other teenager.

She put her hands into the sleeves of the blouse with its embroidered red flowers and fastened it with a leather belt. Her heart leaped with excitement. In the mirror, a happy face stared back at her.

“It’s so cute!” Anya gushed. “It really suits you!”

“Y-you think so…?”

Chapter 3:
The Final Cosmonaut Exam

Indigo Eyes
• oчи индиго •

JANUARY 17, the first day of the cosmonaut candidate graduation exams. Lev’s knee had fully healed, and Lev gathered with the other candidates in the Training Center’s conference room. The air was so tense, you could have cut it with a knife.

All sixteen cosmonaut hopefuls stood at attention before Lt. Gen. Viktor. Lev was at the end of the lineup, having been promoted from reserve to candidate only recently. His was also the last name called.

There had originally been twenty candidates, but over the last few months, four had left for various reasons.

Candidate #2: Unidentifiable internal bleeding after centrifuge training. Disqualified.

Candidate #6: Injured neck during high-dive exercises at the pool. Disqualified.

Candidate #10: Admitted to hospital for a hernia operation. Disqualified.

Candidate #14: Failed landing during parachute training. Compound fractures in both legs. Disqualified.

Only those who overcame the genuinely grueling training earned the right to take the graduation exam.

In many ways, the scientists developing the rockets seemed more qualified for space research than members of the air force. However, the scientists themselves had unanimously voted in favor of soldiers manning the spaceflights. As far as they were concerned, it was more efficient to teach qualified cosmonauts the required science than for scientists to withstand the exhausting training. As technology improved, the scientists would one day fly to space themselves—but until then, sending them was unrealistic.

“Comrades,” Lt. Gen. Viktor said, his voice hard. “I will now explain the examination process.”

It was finally time. Lev stood straight and stiff. Even Mikhail and Roza, usually portraits of calm confidence, wore grave expressions.

“Through this examination, six of you will graduate to become the official cosmonauts of the Mechta Project. Of those six, three will be selected for the manned spaceflight in spring. The remaining three will act as backup.”

In other words, if Lev couldn’t make the top three, there was no way to know when he’d be able to fly to space. Depending on project schedules, it might not be for several years.

“The final six cosmonauts will be our answer to the United Kingdom’s so-called Hermes Seven. You will be the Mechta Shest. The central committee believes there is great meaning in a victory with lesser numbers.”

Lev heard Mikhail let out a dry chuckle. He knew just as well as Mikhail did that it was all little more than a stubborn competition between countries looking to one-up each other, but neither candidate had the rank to say anything.

The Union was so intent on this excessive show of competition for a reason: On December 17, the United Kingdom had successfully launched an unmanned spaceflight and announced three of the Hermes Seven as candidates for the next launch.

Unlike the Zirnitra Union, the United Kingdom made its space development information public, so Lev and the other candidates could see and know the names and faces of their rivals. They were military members, just like the cosmonaut candidates, but they looked a little older. Lev didn’t feel competitive toward them, though. Instead, he wished they could share information and talk about space together. He saw the Hermes Seven as comrades from a different country. As long as the Union insisted on secrecy, however, his wishes would never become a reality.

“History’s first cosmonaut will carry not just the nation on their shoulders,” Viktor announced, raising his fist high. “They will go down in history as a hero, so it is imperative that we select the right person! Keep that in the forefront of your minds as you take this examination!”

“Sir, yes, sir!” The cosmonaut candidates saluted.

With that, the two-day exam to finalize the cosmonaut team began.

***

The candidates’ examination covered all the training they had done until that point. There was a written component covering scientific theory and technology, a foreign language component, a physical exam, specialized equipment use, and a parachute descent. The exam used a point deduction method, and each component had a high passing standard. Lt. Gen. Viktor would be present for both days of the exam to provide unbiased grading.

The sixteen candidates were the country’s finest, selected from three thousand applicants. Still, even among the best of the best, there were apparent differences—not technical or physical, but psychological disparities. Some people, finally realizing the heavy responsibility of the words “history’s first,” approached the exam so as not to be selected. Others found their enthusiasm completely exhausted and did their duty just to avoid getting sacked.

Although Lev was not outstanding in any particular area, he was within the top four in every single one. His injury cost him a little strength and stamina, but he made up for that in the other parts of the exam. When it came to the battle for first place, it was all between Mikhail and Roza.

“Come on, let’s head to the next exam area,” Mikhail said.

He hadn’t been appointed leader, but Mikhail smoothly gathered and directed the other candidates. In all likelihood, he did that as a calculated attempt to show Lt. Gen. Viktor that he was best suited for the cosmonaut team. Outside of a penchant for arrogant behavior, Mikhail had very few weak points.

In contrast, Roza kept to herself and performed with calm, cool perfection. She made no attempt to flatter anyone. She kept herself alone, aloof, and apart, like a white rose blooming in the desert.

In each component of the exam, Mikhail and Roza lost no points. As long as neither suffered an injury, they were guaranteed spots on the team. Every other candidate had to fight for third place. That resulted in some attempting to go beyond their own limits.

“Someone call a doctor!”

One candidate, who’d failed the foreign language component, tried to make up for it in the hot room and ended up with heatstroke.

“Hey, are you all right?!” Lev asked as the candidate was carried out on a stretcher.

But the weak voice that replied was full of hatred. “I hope you all…burn like the test dogs…”

“Huh?” Lev was stunned by the words, which felt like a curse.

The friendly atmosphere of the candidate group had all but vanished, transformed into cold cruelty. With limited spots on the team, and only a few candidates earning a potential or guaranteed place on the rocket, struggle and competition were unavoidable.

Lev knew there was no sugarcoating the process, yet he hated the heavy, oppressive air. He didn’t want to be enemies fighting tooth and nail for a seat on the cosmonaut team—he wanted to be friends aiming for the stars together. For that reason, he talked to everyone with friendly positivity. While they warmed up before their run, he joked with those around him.

“How about we put some bets down? Winner gets everyone’s space food. Apparently tonight’s menu is ‘savory meat jelly.’ Hm… Actually, come to think of it, who’d even want to win if we did that?”

One of the candidates shook his head at Lev’s attempt and replied, “Maybe make sure your shoes are tied before you start making jokes.”

“Oops!” Lev knelt to tie his shoes, chuckling. “I don’t know why I’m so bad at tying my own shoes.”

“Jeez, Lev. If you tie them like that, the laces will face the wrong way.”

“Oh, right!” Lev cracked up again.

“How am I supposed to take this seriously with guys like you around, Lev?”

Lev continued to laugh it off. Everyone looked at him like he was a lost cause, but he had a natural ability to soothe the people around him. Not that it was any time for Lev to be laughing; he’d lost a lot of points in the physical portions of the exam because of all the time he’d lost to bedrest. His knee had completely healed, but two weeks without any running made things harder than he had imagined.

***

With the first day of exams over, the candidates ate dinner in the cafeteria. No one made a peep, and the room echoed only with the clinking of cutlery and the rumbling of kerosene heaters.

Mikhail and Roza ate as they always did, but most of the candidates barely touched their meals. Lev held his space food dejectedly, sighing as he thought back to the results of the day’s exams. When he ran the numbers in his head, he was around fifth place. The thought made his horrible space food taste even worse.

Lev had already bounced back from being a reserve. He wouldn’t lose anything by not making the cosmonaut team. However, he didn’t want to have to tell Irina that he hadn’t made the cut. They hadn’t met since they parted at Irina’s cell, which was already a month ago. Assuming there were no changes to the schedule, she’d soon be transferred to the Military Institute of Medical Science. He hoped he could give her some good news before she left.

“I can do this!” Lev whispered to himself.

Irina gave it her all. I owe her the same effort.

His spirits bolstered, Lev ate the rest of his space food in a single gulp.

***

It was the second day of the exams. Lev had wanted to believe the candidates were all working toward the same goal, but a shocking turn of events had left him feeling hollow.

“If you aren’t going to aim for the top, then go back home to your bumpkin village!”

Roza’s rage had been aimed at a candidate trying to lose a basketball game. Her anger was only natural; her life and career depended on these exams, and she would not stand for anyone getting in her way. It wasn’t just Roza either; her teammates were equally livid.

Lt. Gen. Viktor watched the match in silence. Lev and the other candidates had no idea how arguments between teams would harm their scores. Mikhail didn’t say anything either, choosing instead to observe from afar.

Roza pointed off the court. “Leave,” she demanded. “We need to play the rest of the match.”

The male candidate she spoke to glared back at her. “You should know your place, girl.”

Those words were enough to send Roza’s anger up a notch. “What’s being a girl have to do with it?” she asked, shoving his shoulder.

Lev jumped between them, knowing things would escalate if he didn’t act.

“Stop it, both of you!” he said, turning to the disgruntled candidate. “Roza is right; you have to decide. If you’re not here to fly into space, you shouldn’t be here at all.”

The candidate clicked his tongue in a show of irritation. “You arrogant son of a… All you ever did was suck up to the Chief and babysit a vampire.”

“Wait a sec—”

Lt. Gen. Viktor’s angry shout cut him off. “That’s enough!” Viktor glared at the candidate and ran his thumb across his throat in a cutting gesture. “Go back to the dormitory. Pack up your things.”

The candidate kicked the basketball in frustration, his dismissal now official. He was clearly vexed, but he also looked a little relieved.

Lev couldn’t stand that he’d been called a suck-up, but Roza had sharp words for him too. “He has to make a decision?” She scoffed. “Can you even say you’ve made one yourself? All I ever see you do is laugh and clown around.”

“Nobody wants to go to space more than I do. Nobody.”

Lev spoke from the heart, and it showed in the determination on his face.

***

When the sun set, and the temperature dropped below freezing, the exam’s final component began. It was a parachute descent from an altitude of seven thousand meters. Below the candidates, black snow clouds spread like a carpet, and the powerful breath of Moroz froze their fingers. Visibility was also low. It was the worst possible weather for a parachute jump.

The strong winds whisked the candidates far from the landing point; some ended up in trees, and others almost landed in the swamp. Conditions were awful, and even Mikhail and Roza fell shy of the landing point, resulting in their first point deductions of the whole two days.

Finally, it was Lev’s turn. The cold wind blew, and the darkness stretching below stirred up primal fear within him. But Lev had confidence that outweighed his terror—after all, he’d jumped in these conditions multiple times while training Irina. She’d overcome her fear of heights in just two weeks and successfully parachuted in the midst of a fierce snowstorm. If she could do it, Lev knew he could do it too. He had to do it. It was his reason for being here. He wouldn’t let anybody call him a suck-up. If he failed here and now, he’d be trampling everything Irina had worked for.

Lev got into exit posture, crossing his arms and gripping his shoulders.

“I’ve got this.” He looked out at the scenery. Then he shouted, “I’m ready! Three, two, one, go!”

Lev threw himself into the darkness of night—and, in that darkness spreading beneath him, the moon’s reflection shone in the water below.

Scarlet Eyes
• oчи алый •

IRINA AND ANYA left the biomedical laboratory, and light snow carried on a cold wind hit their bodies. Anya shivered, closing her fur coat tightly around her.

“It feels colder than usual tonight,” she said.

“Yeah…” Irina sank into melancholy, her voice on the verge of disappearing completely. She’d just received an important notification from the chief of research.

“It has been decided. Your transfer to the Sangrad Military Institute of Medical Science is scheduled for the twenty-second.”

It was already the eighteenth, which gave Irina four days. It was all too soon. However, in the Union, the state’s orders were absolute, and decisions often came without warning. It felt like someone had dropped a bucket of cold water on her; there was no time to prepare, no time to discuss. Irina had always known the higher-ups would transfer her, but now that a date was set, she felt churning anxiety she could not put into words. Even though Anya would go with her, Irina was lonely at the thought of being so far from Lev, and her heart refused to settle.

“I’m sorry,” Anya said, noticing the dejected look on Irina’s face.

“Huh?”

“They won’t tell me anything about what’s going to happen after the manned spaceflight. You must be so worried. Maybe they really haven’t decided yet, but… I feel powerless. It’s like there’s nothing I can do to support you…”

Irina didn’t think it was Anya’s fault. Still, there was one thing she’d asked Anya for help with. She wanted the other girl to keep up the lie she’d told Lev about moving to the design bureau as an engineer.

“He’ll ask about it, I know he will. So, I… Well, I just don’t want him to worry about me.”

Anya understood Irina’s position, and she nodded firmly in reply. “If he asks me anything, I’ll stick to your story.”

“Thank you.” Irina looked out at the city, draped in dim darkness while the moon was hidden behind the clouds. “I guess I have to say goodbye to this place too…”

She’d only been in LAIKA44 for three months, but it had come to seem like a second home. However, it wasn’t the amount of time Irina had spent here that made her feel that way—it was the experiences she could never forget. Her memories of struggling each and every day to prepare for space travel were etched deeply into her mind and body.

She and Anya neared a tree-lined path. It was the one that Irina had walked with Lev every day during her training. At the end of that path was a vending machine stocked with soda water. Lev had a habit of drinking a cup to finish the day’s training. He’d offered her some soda water when she was first curious about it; initially, she’d turned him down. After their bond of blood, however, she’d started drinking soda water occasionally. There was only one cup at the machine, so she and Lev had lightly washed it and shared it between them, an act that was a little awkward and just as embarrassing.

“Um… Anya? Today was the graduation exam, right?”

Irina brought it up as if the thought had just crossed her mind, but she’d actually been thinking about it all day.

“Oh, that’s right. It is.” Anya didn’t seem particularly interested.

“Have the results been announced yet?”

“According to Dr. Mozhaysky, they’ll be announced tomorrow evening.”

“Tomorrow…”

“Are you curious about the results?”

“A bit, yes… I wonder who’s going to space next after me.”

Irina tried to act blasé about it, but she prayed Lev would be selected. Her pulse quickened at the thought. Then she looked at the end of the path, and her heart leaped in her chest. A group of candidates stood in front of the vending machine, Lev among them. Irina stopped.

“What’s wrong?” Anya asked, tilting her head. She couldn’t see the candidates, since she lacked Irina’s night vision. Lev couldn’t see Irina and Anya either.

Irina yearned to ask Lev about the exam. She ached to tell him about her transfer. But she couldn’t move. It was as if her legs were trapped in the snow. Lev chuckled and chatted with the other candidates as they sipped soda water, and he even waved to Roza with a smile as she left for the dormitories.

The cosmonaut candidates seemed in high spirits; perhaps the exam had gone well. Irina felt something like relief, but she wondered why Lev had smiled at Roza. Jealousy pricked her heart. Seeing Lev chatting with other humans, she felt an invisible wall between them, separating the world he lived in from her own. She hadn’t seen any borders when she looked down at Earth from space, but still, they existed.

Lev and the other candidates finished their soda water and left, walking along lamplit paths. Irina stood rooted in place.

Anya squinted, looking ahead. “Oh!” she gasped. “Was that Lev?”

Irina almost shrieked. “D-don’t be ridiculous! I just wanted to drink some soda water!”

“Uh-huh… Well, okay then,” Anya said meaningfully, giving Irina’s shoulder a little nudge.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing! Let’s go get some soda water. My treat.”

Though she had been shrinking in the cold just moments ago, Anya now walked with something of a spring in her step. Throughout the rest of Irina’s exams, which lasted until dawn, Anya had a knowing grin on her face every time she looked at Irina.

***

“Whew… I am so tired…” Irina murmured.

After finishing her work for the day and having a shower, she returned to her cell to find Anya flipping through a book on her desk.

“Ack! What are you doing?!” Irina cried, throwing away the towel she was using to dry her hair and running to Anya. “Don’t go touching my things!”

“You drew this, huh?”

Anya raised her head to look at Irina, pointing to a corner of the book. She cocked an eyebrow. On that page was a picture of a circle and a triangular shape Irina had scribbled in pencil, part of a flipbook the vampire girl had drawn. Now that Anya had seen the flipbook, Irina couldn’t explain it away.

“So I was bored,” Irina said uncaringly. “I don’t know which old ideologist wrote that book, but it’s super dull. And what’s wrong with a little flipbook?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it, but…” Anya flipped through the pages again as she spoke. “Why does the carrot get close to the pancake?”

“Huh?”

“The carrot, it’s like…zoom! And it heads to the pancake.”

“It’s not a carrot!” Irina hissed, baring her fangs. “It’s a rocket to the moon!”

“What?! This…is a rocket…?”

Anya froze, the book still in her hand. No matter which way she looked at it, all she saw was a carrot and a pancake. To be fair, Irina didn’t think the drawing looked much like a rocket either. Too embarrassed to admit it, she simply shrugged as if ending the conversation.

“Humans and vampires have different eyes for aesthetics.”

Anya shook her head. “In all my research, there’s no data to back up such a—”

“Shut up!” Irina slammed a pencil on the table with the palm of her hand. “You draw it then!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Anya picked up the pencil, found a blank space in the book, and began to draw. Her illustration was detailed and complex—artistry that would’ve been right at home in the design bureau.

“Hrm… It’s not that good,” Irina muttered.

She threw the book away, refusing to admit defeat. But as she kneeled to pick up the towel lying on the floor, Anya asked her a question.

“Do you want to go to space again?”

“Huh?” Irina turned around and saw Anya pick up the book.

“It’d be great if you could go all the way to the moon someday.”

Irina said nothing. She covered her head with her towel and looked up at the light hanging from the ceiling. The lunny kamen around her neck glowed with soft blue light.

“I don’t have to, because you can take it yourself when you go to the moon.”

Irina still believed the words Lev had said to her right before launch. She dreamed that, one day, she’d be able to fly again.

Black Dragon’s Eyes
• очи цирнитра •

AT THE HEART of the capital of Sangrad was a walled-off area called the Kremli—also known as the Neglin. Flags of twin black dragons on red soil flapped in the breeze, and a magnificent palace—a relic from the old empire—towered over all from the center. A beautiful church and a treasury stood beside the palace.

In one section of the Kremli, the central committee was holding a top-secret meeting at the office of the Ministerial Cabinet. Their agenda consisted of countermeasures to the United Kingdom of Arnack’s progress in space development, and even First Secretary Fyodor Gergiev, Supreme Leader of the Zirnitra Union, was in attendance.

According to intelligence reports, the United Kingdom was planning to launch a manned spaceflight sometime between spring and summer. The Union, which couldn’t afford to lose such a battle, chose to move up its own launch schedules in response.

Dr. Mozhaysky stood to give his report. “Subject N44, Irina Luminesk, is both physically and mentally healthy. We plan to run more precise tests soon.”

“Yes, yeees!” Gergiev nodded over and over in an exaggerated fashion.

A man of regular height and build, Gergiev wasn’t as muscular as one might expect of a military man. However, he had a charming smile and spoke as much with his hands and body as with his voice. Even now, his boisterous shouts cemented his strong presence. When he visited the United Kingdom two years ago, they had taken to calling him the “Blabbering Sunflower” behind his back.

Gergiev whipped around to point at Korovin. “Comrade Chief! Are the preparations proceeding as expected?!”

“If everything goes well, we’ll enter final testing in March.”

Korovin and the engineering teams had been working day and night, motivated by Irina’s successful flight. Though the outcome had not been made public, the endeavor alone had been a major boost to their morale.

“Then we’ll launch in April!” Gergiev shouted. “I assume there are no objections?”

There was another reason for his decisive push. Although Gergiev had overthrown the old government, which ruled by way of fear, the past clung on through committee members and the Delivery Crew. They weren’t fans of Gergiev’s methods, and he would get nowhere unless he took some risks.

When it was clear that there were no objections to the launch date, the committee moved to the next item on the agenda.

“Now that the manned spaceflight has succeeded, what should be done about the test subject?”

An answer came quickly and without hesitation. “Execution.”

The voice belonged to the vice-president of the Delivery Crew, who embodied the old ways. He was a cold, calculating man, still caught up in the great purges of the past. It was he who had insisted upon the explosives in Irina’s rocket. His sly gaze was the polar opposite of Gergiev’s bright energy, and he spoke in an emotionless, robotic tone.

“I understand the necessity of researching potential side effects until humanity’s first manned launch. But there are no benefits to allowing the test subject to live past that point. We have also received reports of potential spies in the development bureaus. Once the test subject serves its purpose, it should be disposed of quickly—by illness or accident.”

Members of the former party and the Union’s uppermost committee members rose from their seats to applaud him. The United Kingdom was not the only threat to the Union. Agents from other countries were also sniffing around Sangrad in search of a scoop on spaceflight. Though the space development program was confidential, tens of thousands of people worked on it in some capacity, meaning leaks were inevitable. If the Mechta Project were brought to light, the Nosferatu Project might be uncovered along with it.

All the same, Gergiev recommended that they defer the decision about the test subject’s execution. “There is still time before the launch. This is not something that we should decide lightly! We cannot go back on a decision once it’s finalized!”

Gergiev wasn’t entirely heartless; he had grieved the loss of the test dog Maly, for instance. His decision to push the Nosferatu Project, even with its high potential for failure, was a logical choice based on what he could lose or gain as leader. In short, he believed they should allow Irina to live if she could provide value. He was against the outdated idea of simply erasing that which was inconvenient. Much hatred had developed for the old government due to its excessive insistence on making people vanish—one of many reasons it had been overthrown. At the same time, if Gergiev deemed something “unnecessary,” it would be disposed of without question.

Many committee members also privately opposed Irina’s execution. They sympathized with her and, in truth, the joy they felt at her successful launch surpassed barriers of race and species. Yet none could put those feelings into words, since the central committee had no need for sentiment.

All for the glory of the motherland.

Everyone obeyed those words. Even Korovin, the leading figure in the Union’s space development, had no power to change Irina’s future. Still, he was a kind man, and he wanted to protect Irina because she had given herself to the space program.

“She is cooperative and devoted,” he said. “She is a member of our team, and I recognize her as such.”

The Delivery Crew’s vice-president quickly cut down Korovin’s emotional comment.

“Those factors are of no importance. Should information about the test subject leak, it will already be too late. If N44 defects with its secrets, what then? If it is kidnapped by an enemy agent, what then?”

The debate went back and forth, treating Irina as nothing more than a test animal or prisoner of war. In the end, the meeting drew to a close before the committee could make a decision. While Irina’s execution had been deferred, her life was still clutched tightly in the committee’s hands.

***

Gergiev returned to his office, where he went over the contents of the meeting with a tall, slim woman in a black suit. Her hair was tied up neatly away from her face. Two cups of tea sat between them.

“Damn all of those who claim to be the old guard,” Gergiev said. “They’re behind the times! Their first answer is to purge their problems, and their second answer is to purge again. We have already lost twenty million lives to these purges. Do they intend to throw away all the manpower in our country?”

He took a spoonful of strawberry varenye and shoved it angrily into his mouth, washing it down with a mouthful of tea. The woman across from him ate her varenye gracefully without so much as sipping her tea. Her deep green eyes lit up as she placed a strawberry in her mouth.

“Perhaps you need an organization to jail the Delivery Crew? Mmm. So sweet and delicious.”

The twenty-nine-year-old ate as if she wanted heartburn, but Gergiev didn’t seem to mind. He’d worked with the woman for eight years now, and very little surprised him. She was the Supreme Leader’s right hand: his press secretary, Lyudmila Kharlova.

Lyudmila had been born into an aristocratic family, and she’d entered a UK university at age eighteen, majoring in political sociology. Upon her return, she’d worked in the party’s communications department. Through this work, she met and helped Gergiev, who’d been just another party member at the time.

When Gergiev was instated as first secretary, Lyudmila became his speechwriter and advisor. She’d also played a role in starting the Nosferatu Project. Besides Lyudmila, there were very few people who could speak so frankly in front of the Union’s Supreme Leader.

Gergiev leaned forward and spun the globe on the table between them. “What must we do to make our motherland a great leader of the world?”

The Zirnitra Union had been a poor, developing country in the first half of the century, exploited by its more powerful rivals. With reform, however, the once-meager nation was on the verge of a historical first. Gergiev was intent on climbing higher still—all the way to uncontested leadership—but he doubted one manned spaceflight would get them there.

“There’s no doubt that the Mechta Project is a more powerful weapon than nuclear missiles,” he said.

Lyudmila laughed. “How silly.”

“Hm? You have an idea, then?”

“You want to be a revolutionary hero, do you not?”

“Of course.”

“I want that for you too. I want a revolution. The world is so boring. We need a revolution that will swallow it all in one gulp—the United Kingdom and the Delivery Crew too. The weapon of choice could very well be N44, don’t you think?” Lyudmila licked the sugar from her lips. “The vampire Irina Luminesk. What a wonderful ingredient… One that could be poison or a cure. We should carefully consider just what sort of meal we want her to be part of.”

Chapter 4:
Further than the Moon

Indigo Eyes

• oчи индиго •

JANUARY 19, evening. When the candidates finished their daily training, they gathered in the Training Center conference room. It was time to announce the results of the graduation exam and who’d been selected for the Mechta Shest. Besides hospitalized and disqualified candidates, there were fourteen hopefuls in the lineup.

Knowing that today was the date of the official announcement, Lev had slept fitfully and woken up multiple times. But he wasn’t alone; everyone else looked equally restless.

Lt. Gen. Viktor watched them with a crease in his brow, holding a confidential-stamped document. Not one to mince words, he got straight to the point. “I will first announce the top three names of the Mechta Shest. These three candidates are especially qualified and will be considered for the position of history’s first cosmonaut.”

The air in the room instantly thickened with tension. Lev stood tall and held his breath.

Lt. Gen. Viktor looked over each candidate and spoke with great importance. “Private Second Class Mikhail Yashin.”

“Sir!”

Mikhail took a smooth step forward as Viktor called his name, as though he’d expected this. The candidates waited for the next name.

“Private Second Class Roza Plevitskaya.”

“It’s an honor, sir.”

Roza allowed herself a hint of a smile as she came forward, throwing a competitive glare in Mikhail’s direction. Lev felt the fire of their rivalry even from where he stood. Everyone had known that Mikhail and Roza were in the top three. What was most important to the other candidates was who was next.

“And now, the final name of the top three.”

They waited with bated breath. Some stiffened with nervousness, while others looked down as if they’d already lost. A few puffed up with pride, awaiting their own names. Lev kept his gaze locked on Lt. Gen. Viktor’s eyes. His parachute landing had been perfect. He had done the absolute best he could. Knowing that, he would take the announcement head-on, no matter the results.

Lt. Gen. Viktor cleared his throat, met Lev’s stare, and spoke. “Private Second Class Lev Leps.”

“Huh? Er, I mean, sir!” Lev squeaked in surprise, unable to believe his ears.

The remaining candidates slumped their shoulders and let out sighs of defeat. Lt. Gen. Viktor went on to announce the three reserve members of the team, but Lev was so excited that he barely registered the names. He was one step closer to realizing his dream, and his imagination ran wild.

What would Earth look like from space? Irina had told him it looked like it was covered in a blue veil. How would the launch feel? She’d said it was a heavy pressure. Zero gravity? It was like being tipsy, she’d said, like floating—

“Lev! Lev!”

Lt. Gen. Viktor’s enraged bark made Lev jump like a puppet on strings, and he rushed to salute.

“My apologies! What is it, sir?!”

While Lev daydreamed, Lt. Gen. Viktor had called the remaining three names. The team chuckled at Lev’s absentmindedness. Even at a glance, Lt. Gen. Viktor’s annoyance was clear. He heaved a blatant sigh and started again.

“As far as ordinary citizens are concerned, none of you exist. For instance, even if Mikhail is selected to go to space, you are all just air force privates until his return. After the first cosmonaut’s name is announced to the public, the rest of the Mechta Shest will be called by their titles: Cosmonaut #2, Cosmonaut #3, and so on.”

In contrast to the United Kingdom’s open communication, the Union refused to let go of its secrecy. Fame didn’t particularly excite Lev, but part of him did wish they could step out from the shadows and make their work known.

“Finally, there is one last announcement. This concerns ‘life,’ and it is extremely important,” said Lt. Gen. Viktor, his face growing stern. “The Mechta Shest are to refrain completely from drinking alcohol.”

“What?!”

It wasn’t just Lev; even the usually cool and calm Mikhail was obviously shocked. Even if the purpose of the alcohol ban was to maintain the cosmonauts’ health and improve their self-control, zhizni was their lifeblood. The word literally meant life! This decision felt utterly cruel. Especially during the fierce cold of winter, zhizni was essential.

“You can toast your graduation with soda water,” Lt. Gen. Viktor told them, looking completely serious. “I will update you on your new training schedules tomorrow. Dismissed.”

With that, Lt. Gen. Viktor turned on his heel and left. Once he was gone, the tension in the room dissipated. All of the feelings that the candidates had held in rose to the surface, making for a much lighter atmosphere. Tears of defeat and words of encouragement alike surged forth. The three reserves celebrated, hugging and shaking hands.

Lev stuck a hand out toward Mikhail and Roza. “Good luck!”

Mikhail and Roza kept their arms crossed.

Chapter 5:
A Cold Spring

Indigo Eyes
• oчи индиго •

WHO WILL BE SELECTED as history’s first-ever cosmonaut?

That was the topic that coiled around the Mechta Shest every single day. Then February 20 arrived. Lev, Mikhail, and Roza underwent a special training regimen. Still, none of them knew anything about how the first cosmonaut would be selected or what form the announcement might take. On top of that, all they knew of the launch was that it would be held in spring.

Left completely in the dark, Lev diligently went about his training. But whenever he settled in to sleep or took a break during the day, he thought back to his last night with Irina. As time passed and he came to his senses, he was shocked at his desire for her to suck his blood. He was glad he had never actually asked her to bite his neck. Furthermore, he couldn’t even be sure she didn’t hate him now that he’d gotten wrapped up in his emotions and hugged her. His palms grew sweaty whenever he thought about it.

Nevertheless, the idea that Irina was doing her best to get through her examinations so she could become an engineer encouraged him, and it made him want to try his best too. Right now, he was ranked third beneath Mikhail and Roza, but he still remembered Irina’s words. “We’ll meet again when you’re a cosmonaut.” That promise was carved into his heart, and it propelled him toward his goal of space.

As expected of such a tough rival, Mikhail performed all his training perfectly, displayed leadership qualities, and constantly showed Lt. Gen. Viktor how exceptional he was. There was a feeling in the air that nobody could object in the slightest if Mikhail were selected. Nobody knew whether Lt. Gen. Viktor actually had a say in the selection, but there was no one else for them to show off to.

On the other hand, some pointed out that Roza had a distinct size advantage, since the cabin itself had strict weight limitations. True to her nickname, “the White Rose of Sangrad,” people were also drawn to Roza’s beauty. At the same time, many gossiped that it was unthinkable for a woman to become history’s first cosmonaut. The Union touted its gender equality, and compared to other countries, women did have higher rank. Still, in a male-dominated military system, it was difficult for some to imagine her being selected.

Roza had to be aware of that inequality, but she never once tried to suck up to Lt. Gen. Viktor. As if to reject the rumors floating around, she remained incredibly stoic and strict, even during meals. Just like Irina, she could be powerfully aggressive, but what differentiated them was that Roza never showed a single sign of weakness.

“She’s beautiful, but no way would she work as a girlfriend,” a reserve team member whispered.

“Did you say something?” Roza asked, impaling him with an icy gaze.

While Mikhail and Roza battled it out for the position of top dog, Lev trained as best he could, trying not to lose the cheerful nature he’d had ever since he began as a cosmonaut candidate. He joked plenty with his teammates.

“Sometimes I just don’t get that guy…”

A handful of the others envied Lev at first, then slowly began cheering him on as they came to understand his nature. He always did his best, and he never acted like he was better than anyone else.

***

While the top three trained for launch, they were presented with flight logs from the Nosferatu Project. These were not copies of typewritten reports but photocopies of the very logs Irina wrote during her flight.

Lev caressed the log and opened it as gingerly as if he were handling a treasure. “Ah…”

When he saw Irina’s rounded script, angled toward the upper right of the page, it reminded him of their study sessions together. He was supposed to be her tutor, but she’d never had questions and instead silently read and took notes on her own.

Even now, while she and Lev were so far apart that they couldn’t see each other, Irina always took up a small corner of his heart. It felt as if their roles had been reversed, and now Irina was the teacher. She had been a literal pioneer of space development. Lev scanned the pages of the flight log, but there wasn’t anything new that he hadn’t already heard from Irina herself.

It was a different story for Mikhail and Roza, though. Mikhail read the document closely, nodding as he stroked his chin. Roza also read it diligently, but she obviously wasn’t happy about it—her brow furrowed, and she sighed with each turn of the page.

One section of the flight log in particular had a big impact on their training. Before reaching zero gravity, Irina had lost consciousness, which was considered unacceptable for the first official launch. The cosmonaut had to remain conscious from start to finish. The data revealed that Irina’s heartrate had risen to abnormal levels, indicating that her small frame had been under significant load stress.

In her meeting with the central committee, Irina had reported, “Training under Sagalevich was awful, but in the end, it proved helpful.”

Thus, it was decided that the cosmonauts would be put through even higher levels of stress than Irina had experienced to prepare their bodies for launch. Military medical staff would be on hand for this training, and every precaution was taken, but there was no escaping how strange the exercises were in and of themselves.

“You will sit in a special machine that will send you hurtling at a stone wall at a hundred kilometers an hour.”

“Excuse me?”

Lev couldn’t believe his ears. However, the level of shock the machine produced equaled the load on a cosmonaut at launch, so the training went ahead.

“Grh!”

The sheer acceleration pushed against your eyes, crushing your ears, cheeks, and face. At the point of impact, your body flew from the seat for just an instant, then was hit by a bone-breaking impact.

Roza’s beautiful features twisted in discomfort. “Hrk!” It was torture for her delicate frame, but she gritted her teeth and saw it through.

This dangerous trial could not simply be given to the cosmonaut team without prior testing. Independent of Lev and the cosmonauts, there was a group of about ten military personnel dubbed “testers.” These testers had been invited to help support the space program, after which they were secretly made subjects for experimentation. They were subjected to hundreds of tests that pushed the human body to its very limits. Many could not take it, but all gave up their bodies for the motherland.

Lev’s heart ached when he found out about the testers, but he also realized that it was a cosmonaut’s duty to bear the passion and bravery of those people.

Outside of shock training, other experimental exercises awaited. One was the “zero-grav elevator,” which dropped from an extreme height onto a special cushioned surface. It was an incredibly large-scale piece of machinery that resulted in just a few seconds of a floating sensation. Another was the “noise bath,” a room equipped with a giant speaker that played a recording of a rocket launch at a hundred times its normal volume. It was one hour of hell at a volume so loud that even hands clamped tight over your ears couldn’t block it.

Even though he doubted the actual efficacy of the strange new training methods, Lev still saw them through with a smile.

“You know,” he said jokingly, “I do feel stronger.”

However, Mikhail was not so good-natured. Once he completed the training, he made his feelings clear to the supervising engineer. “This is ridiculous.”

In many ways, he was right. There was little point to breaking the cosmonaut’s minds and bodies through training that didn’t guarantee the desired effects. At the same time, he knew that asking them to lessen the severity of the training might come off as cowardice, making him seem unsuitable for spaceflight.

“The test subject might have lost consciousness, but I won’t,” Mikhail added.

Mikhail was nothing if not confident. He was a proud young man from a well-off family, truly one of the elite.

Lev wasn’t particularly self-assured around his type, having been brought up on a farm way out in the countryside, but all the same he tried to stay positive. “Don’t be like that, Mikhail. Let’s focus on getting through this.”

Lev was just being himself. Even though the training exhausted them all and stole their appetites, he told jokes to lighten the mood.

“What if we opened the training to people who wanted to lose weight?” He laughed. “Maybe they’d line up for it.”

Even the engineers who ran the training on-site relaxed at Lev’s smile. Just like the cosmonauts, they were also reaching into the unknown. Everything was an exploration.

Mikhail couldn’t believe Lev’s optimism. “You can laugh through all this?”

“When I realize that I might go to space, I’m reenergized.”

However, Mikhail cut him down with his reply. “Who said you were going?”

“Well, I mean, a guy can dream, right?”

Roza stayed out of the conversation. She didn’t speak a word to the engineers, merely leaning against the wall with her arms crossed and occasionally heaving a sigh.

***

When March arrived, Lev, Mikhail, and Roza focused on the upcoming launch. Their centrifuge training—which they’d once done in their tracksuits—was now done in space suits, and the engineers subjected them to the maximum expected load.

They also took meals in their space suits. Moving and eating weren’t particularly easy, but Lev found food a touch more delicious when he imagined eating as he gazed out upon the endless stars and planet Earth. The flavor of the food hadn’t actually changed, of course, so Mikhail and Roza still struggled with the taste.

The three cosmonauts also began training in a replica of the rocket cabin. Lev’s heart raced just from sitting inside it.

“This is what we’ll ride into space,” he whispered.

Something stirred deep in his heart as he scanned the cabin gauges, knowing that Irina had ridden in this cabin too. When he closed his eyes, it was like he could see stardust. In order to focus, he kept his enthusiasm in check. Meanwhile, the supervising engineer ran the three cosmonauts through what they’d do during the flight and how to operate the radio. They also had to train their bodies to respond to potential accidents like air leaks.

All the rocket’s operations were automated, just as they had been for Irina, but the cosmonauts were taught to operate the rocket in the rare case that the automated systems failed. However, the password to switch to manual controls was kept secret even from the cosmonauts. Lt. Gen. Viktor informed them that, in the case of an emergency, they’d receive the password via radio transmission.

Mikhail protested the decision. Even secrecy had its limits. “If we lose radio contact, the password will be completely out of reach.”

Lt. Gen. Viktor shook his head. “The engineering department made the decision. In the case of a cosmonaut’s mental state deteriorating, they cannot be allowed access to the password. Irina Luminesk was not given the password either.”

“Understood…” Mikhail let out a short, incredulous sigh, but he did not press the issue further.

The training felt endless, and it made the air itself heavy. Roza came out of the noise bath and sat with her hands on her forehead as if carrying the weight of her headache. She was deeply exhausted; her lips were dry, and her skin and hair had lost their usual luster. Worried, Lev brought her a cup of water.

“It’s rough in there. Here, have a drink,” he said.

However, Roza only shoved it away in frustration. The cup fell from Lev’s hand and spilled on the floor. “Oh…”

Roza glared at him, silent. Her eyes were alight with the flickering fire of rivalry.

***

March 9. Progress continued on the development side. A test launch to simulate the first official launch took place at the Albinar Cosmodrome. Using data gathered from the Nosferatu Project, Mechta 3KA made a successful lap around Earth and returned with a dog and mannequin on board.

Korovin raised a fist into the air and loudly proclaimed, “One more success, and we move on to the real thing!”

Gergiev had also received reports of the success. At a meeting regarding regional farming, after referring to the cultivation of undeveloped land, he made a powerful statement.

“In the very near future, we will turn our development toward space!”

The Union’s many animal launches left its detractors calling it “The Union Space Zoo,” but the most recent test launch heralded an end to that nickname.

***

By mid-March, the breath of Moroz faded from northern regions of the Union. Even in LAIKA44, the scent of daphnes drifted like the coming of spring, and the ice covering the trees began to thaw. The seasons were changing.

Despite the recent successes, Lev and the other cosmonauts continued their strict training regimen. Even Lev, who kept positive throughout the exercises, was growing exhausted, and he’d lost any desire to go out on his days off. The ban on alcohol kept him away from the jazz bar. His body and mind were reaching their limits. All that kept his spirits up were his dreams of space and the promise he’d made to Irina.

However, the training didn’t get any easier as the launch neared. Instead, it seemed to become even more strenuous. The cosmonauts moved on to parachute descent training, wearing their space suits to simulate the difficult conditions they’d experience upon their return.

***

After boarding the training plane, Lev, Mikhail, and Roza were taken to an altitude of seven thousand meters. They looked out at the sun setting over the swamplands. The fierce winds of a spring storm blew around them. Conditions were far from optimal.

The descent order was predetermined: Mikhail, Roza, and then Lev. Their space suits were heavy, a far cry from the flight jackets they were all used to during jumps like this. Lev was confident in the air, but he was still unsure he could land in the target zone, given the weather.

Mikhail took exit posture at the launch doors. “I’ll see you in the target zone,” he said. “Three, two, one, zero!”

Without a hint of reservation, he dropped. Roza was next. There was something unsteady about the way she held herself. Her cheeks were drawn and pale. She’d looked utterly fatigued for some time, but today was particularly bad.

Lev knew she would ignore his worries, as she always did, but he tapped her shoulder regardless. “Maybe you should take a rest today?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Roza replied. She glared at Lev with bloodshot eyes, but her voice lacked conviction. “Three, two, one, zero.”

She threw herself into the evening sky.

“I hope she’ll be okay…”

Lev knew that a small mistake could lead to serious injury, and he wondered if Roza would be all right. He had a bad feeling about her jump.

“This is not the time to worry about someone else…” he muttered.

There wasn’t a chance to think about it any further. Cold winds slapped at Lev’s face from the launch doors, bringing him back to his own jump. He left a little time between Roza’s jump and his own, then leaped into the sky. The cold winds seemed to cut at him.

After some time in freefall, he looked down to see Roza’s parachute open. “Thank goodness…”

Assuming that Roza was okay, Lev focused on his own descent, opening his parachute and navigating toward the target zone.

“Hm?”

Lev watched as the strong winds took hold of Roza’s parachute. He expected her to quickly right her course, but instead, she let the winds direct her and drifted farther and farther from the target zone.

“What the…?”

At first, he thought he might have gotten the target zone wrong, but Mikhail was gliding over to the very place Lev knew it to be. Perhaps something had happened to Roza, but Lev couldn’t tell for sure—not from this far up, with her parachute blocking his view. With each thought in his mind, Roza drifted farther. At this rate, there was no telling where she would end up. It wasn’t even clear that she’d land safely.

“Damn it,” Lev said, giving up on the target zone and heading off in pursuit of Roza.

It wasn’t easy to tail her through the sky, especially in fierce gusts of wind and while wearing an unwieldy space suit. But as they neared the ground below, Lev managed to get about level with the young woman.

“Hey! Roza!” he shouted into the wind.

Roza’s head moved slightly at the sound of his voice, but she did not reply. He could tell she was having trouble controlling her parachute. If he got too close, their parachutes would tangle, but he couldn’t gain control of hers from a distance.

The two were about a thousand meters from the ground. Lev looked down at the earth. They were passing over the Bolik River, which weaved throughout the swamplands. It was full of countless chunks of ice. If Roza landed in the midst of water that cold, it could spell her death.

Lev prayed she could at least get herself clear of the river, but her parachute seemed drawn toward it. He decided he could no longer simply sit back and watch. His only chance was to force them into a crash landing away from the river. The key was making sure they were at a height where their parachutes could tangle without causing injuries too extensive. If everything went well, their sturdy space suits and tough helmets would protect them.

He looked for a location that would soften the landing and spotted a section of small trees and shrubbery. If they were lucky, landing there would only result in a few cuts, bumps, and bruises. The river rushed beneath them.

“No turning back now…”

Lev gathered his wits one last time, then pulled his parachute cords and headed straight for Roza. Their parachutes collided. Fear rushed through Lev’s stomach; Roza’s pale face looked up at him for help.

“Ah… Aaahh…”

“Close your helmet visor!” Lev shouted. “Get ready for a five-point landing!”

Lev closed his visor, grabbed Roza’s parachute cords, and pulled her to the riverside. Her parachute tilted and spun as they hurtled toward the ground, with Lev doing everything he could to reduce their speed. Their parachutes entwined and filled with air, slowing the two cosmonauts down enough to lessen the impact.

“Gaaaah!”

Huge shocks ran through their bodies as they hit the trees and shrubs that Lev had aimed for. As they neared the ground, he and Roza tumbled into five-point landings. For an instant, his vision went black.

“Ow… Augh…”

After making sure he could move his arms and legs, Lev let out a deep breath. He picked himself up and headed straight for Roza.

“Roza!” He kneeled by her side. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I…I’m fine…”

Roza cautiously sat up, cradling her body as if folding in on herself. Her eyes glistened as teardrops formed at the ends of her eyelashes, and she began to tremble. Then she let out a light, hitching sob.

Never before had Lev seen her look so afraid.

Some time after their landing, Lev and Roza were picked up by a helicopter and subjected to Lt. Gen. Viktor’s angry shouts.

“Fools! Trying to get yourselves killed!”

Lev’s actions had been dangerously rash, and he could do nothing but accept whatever rage Lt. Gen. Viktor had in store for him.

The man slapped Lev’s shoulder hard enough to hurt him before saying something completely unexpected. “You did good, Lev… It was a brave thing you did, risking your life to help a teammate. Worthy of a medal!”

“Th-thank you, sir!”

Lt. Gen. Viktor went on to boast of a rescue mission he’d been part of during the Great War. He put a hand to the scar on his forehead. “That’s where I got this.” Lev nodded along with his story.

Roza, wrapped in a blanket, stared silently at her feet.

***

After thorough exams at the medical diagnostics center, Lev and Roza were given some compresses and told that they’d heal in about three days. Although the bruising wouldn’t impede the cosmonauts’ regular training, the medical staff diagnosed Roza specifically with severe fatigue and ordered her to rest while they healed.

The two of them left the medical center together and headed for the dormitories. They walked down birch-lined streets illuminated by lamplight.

Roza was in low spirits, but Lev tried to look on the bright side. “Guess we’re lucky we avoided any serious damage.”

Roza’s reply was awkward and sheepish. “Why would you do something so reckless and dangerous just to save me?”

“Why…? Isn’t it obvious? I saw my teammate about to die right in front of me. I didn’t have time to think. I just acted.”

“Teammate, huh?” Roza muttered to herself before looking back at Lev. “Remember what I said to you? ‘A honey tongue, a heart of gall’?”

“I do.”

“For you, I’ll make a revision. A tongue and a heart of honey. Some jam and sugar wouldn’t be misplaced either.”

“Sounds like a recipe for severe heartburn.” Lev clutched his throat and poked his tongue out.

“It doesn’t make sense to treat you like an enemy or a rival.” Roza let a wry grin rise to her face. She stopped by the side of the road, reached out, and caressed a daphne. “Do you remember this time last year, when we came here to LAIKA44? The daphnes were in bloom.”

“Er, no, I don’t…”

Lev didn’t even know what the flowers were called, let alone when they bloomed. He wasn’t interested in flowers, which was why he didn’t even know what Irina meant when she’d told him the stars were like chervils. He’d needed to visit the library later to look “chervils” up. Only then did he realize they were little star-shaped flowers.

Roza giggled. “One year ago, I remember hoping that by the time these bloomed again, we’d be going to space.”

She might have been the only candidate seeing her hopes and dreams overlap with the flowers around her. Lev had trained with her for a whole year, yet this was the first time he felt that he was getting to understand who she was as a young woman, not just a candidate. They walked along the path, avoiding the puddles of melting snow, and soon passed the soda water vending machine.

“You mind if I stop for a cup?” Lev asked. All the shouting from the parachute incident had left his throat dry.

As Lev dug for his wallet, Roza put a coin in the machine from beside him.

“Hm? Oh, you’re having one too?”

“It’s my treat,” Roza said quietly.

“Huh?!” Lev gawked at her, dumbfounded.

“A token of gratitude until I find a better way to thank you…”

“Don’t worry about it. This is fine,” Lev told her, pressing the button on the machine.

“Wait. Are you saying my life is only worth a cup of soda water?” She pursed her lips, nonplussed.

Lev grinned. “Well, it’s at least worth a round of zhizni.”

“A life for a…life,” she muttered, thinking about the meaning of the word.

“You got it.” Lev gave Roza a thumbs-up, and she chuckled.

“How do your jokes keep getting worse?” Roza bought a soda water for herself and sat on the nearby bench with a sigh. “I’m so tired…”

She glanced at Lev as if ordering him to sit, so he did, making sure to leave a little space between them. Roza didn’t say anything right away, choosing instead just to hold the cup in her hands. They listened to the low rumble of the vending machine and the fizzing of the soda water inside the cups.

“I’m…I’m going to drop out,” she said suddenly.

Lev looked at her, shocked. The cup in her hands trembled ever so slightly.

“If you hadn’t saved me, I might have died. My body wouldn’t listen to me. I really thought it was all over…”

Lowering her gloomy gaze, Roza drank from her cup. She heaved another sigh, and when she next spoke, it was with some relief.

“Ever since I made it to the last selection stage, I’ve pushed myself too hard. As a woman, I knew that if I wanted to be the first cosmonaut, I had to be better than you and Mikhail combined. Though I have a feeling the top brass always intended for a woman to be second.”

That was a prevailing line of thought, but Lev didn’t agree. “If you ask me, gender doesn’t matter when it comes to space.”

Roza waved him off. “Forget about it. I just don’t want to admit the truth.”

“Hm?”

“I hate to admit it, but physically, mentally…I’m not strong enough. I hated having a rival like you worry about me. After the noise bath, when I slapped that cup away… Well, I’m sorry.”

Lev thought back to her hateful glare.

Roza rolled up her sleeve and showed Lev her right arm. “It doesn’t matter how much I train; I can’t build any more muscle than what I’ve got,” she said, studying the veins visible through her pale skin. Her arm was about half the width of Lev’s. “I just don’t want to put it all down to gender differences.”

She unrolled her sleeve and stared at the sky.

“When I first entered the air force, people looked down on me for being female. But I got so good as a pilot that I wouldn’t lose to anyone. Those men could belittle me all they wanted, but when we took to the skies in mock battles, I took their tails and rained hell on their wings. I took their pride and self-esteem, and I tore it into shreds. They started calling me the White Rose of Sangrad because it kept happening, but I’m not beautiful like a rose.”

Roza flicked her silver white hair neatly behind her and went on.

“My hard work earned me the spot of ace when I was in the air force. But during cosmonaut training? I hit my limits. I kept thinking of being left behind. I couldn’t sleep… I felt like I was going crazy…”

Lev could only listen and nod patiently, waiting for her to continue.

“That Nosferatu—I know she went through some awful stuff, but even so, she flew. She made it to space, and she wrote flight logs she could be proud of… It’s truly commendable.”

Roza absolutely detested Irina, but she acknowledged what the vampire girl had to overcome to reach space. It made Lev happy, as if she were praising him.

“She really did give it everything,” he said, “and now it’s my job to catch up.”

Roza’s gaze flicked to him, suspicious. “Is that why you didn’t come with us to the parade? Were you meeting with the vampire?”

Lev couldn’t hide how flustered the question made him.

She stared at him in astonishment. “Unbelievable… I guess for a guy like you, when it comes to space, gender differences and differences in species don’t matter. Am I right?”

“W-well…I mean, the day she flew, the whole blockhouse exploded in cheers. Seriously.” Lev tried to shift Roza’s focus away from himself with his answer, then gulped down more soda water.

In a hushed voice, Roza added, “I do hope she isn’t disposed of, you know.”

“Yeah… But I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“Oh?”

Lev couldn’t tell Roza about the design bureau, since it was confidential. “I just…don’t think it’s in the cards,” he said instead.

Still, something about the future Irina had shared with him didn’t sit right. Irina and Lev were both bad liars; they were alike in that way.

Lev took another sip of his soda water, and its bitter taste spread through his mouth.

***

April 4. Time rolled on with no word regarding the launch, and everyone began to doubt what they’d been told about a spring launch date. Then a communiqué arrived from the central committee, addressed to Lt. Gen. Viktor.

The manned spaceflight will take place between the dates of April 10 and April 20.

That meant the launch could happen as soon as a week from now. It was very sudden, and LAIKA44 practically erupted at the news. However, the official cosmonaut had yet to be decided. Normally, a choice like this would be made with enough time for adequate preparation, but the Union could hardly be considered “normal.”

In the conference room of the Training Center, Lev and the members of the Mechta Shest stood facing Lt. Gen. Viktor.

Lt. Gen. Viktor’s brow furrowed as he spoke. “The flight is automated, meaning that the pilot need only sit in the cabin, for the most part. So, it is possible that pilot selection may happen as late as directly before launch.”

Although that was true, Lev didn’t think it particularly wise. Mikhail’s slight grimace proved he felt the same way.

Lt. Gen. Viktor’s talks usually ended once his report was over, but perhaps some kindness had bloomed in the man during the year he’d watched over this team. He looked at them somewhat apologetically and went on.

“I’m sorry, but my opinion on the matter of cosmonaut selection is only considered a reference. They’ll make the final decision at a committee meeting in Albinar, and the exact date is still unconfirmed.”

“Understood…” All Lev could do was go along with it. Still, knowing the launch was imminent frayed his nerves.

“We’ll leave LAIKA44 at 1700 hours. Make sure you’re all ready,” Lt. Gen. Viktor told them. Then he clapped and cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. “And…one more thing. Mikhail, Lev, a special order came from the committee.”

“A request?” Lev asked timidly.

“After this briefing concludes, you two will record your prelaunch comments and have your photos taken inside the cabin. They are for the official record. You will use the mock cabin, but this won’t be practice. Consider it the real thing.”

A fake record for the official record. It was the very height of sectionalism and adherence to secrecy. The cosmodrome’s hangars were top-secret facilities, and the military wouldn’t permit outside photographers to enter, no matter how established they were. Still, the government needed comments and photos to mark the occasion, so staged pictures were better than none. The citizens wouldn’t know the difference. It was a practical, if irrational, approach.

More noticeably, however, Roza was not included. She had already bowed out. No one would have blamed her if she looked dejected, but she stood straight at attention with her eyes on Lt. Gen. Viktor.

“Thank you for allowing me to remain part of the team, even after causing such an incident.”

Lt. Gen. Viktor let a smile creep onto his face. “Your thanks is unnecessary. Continue your training, and do not slack off. There is still a chance that the two potential cosmonauts could get injured or sick.”

“Understood!”

Roza’s energetic reply rang through the room. Now that she’d recovered, her usual vigor had returned. She looked every bit the vivacious rose of her namesake.

Interlude:
интерлюдия

Black Dragon’s Eyes
• очи цирнитра •

THE CITY OF SANGRAD was wrapped in pearly white mist, and the forest on its outskirts was wet from falling drizzle. A jet-black government vehicle drove to a public cemetery outside the city. In the car, behind panes of bulletproof glass, Lyudmila passed Gergiev documents regarding the two potential cosmonauts.

“Hm… This Mikhail Yashin is held in very high regard,” Gergiev said.

“He’s number one in every category. Calm and collected. Strong leadership qualities. He’s from a middle-class family, and he has that air about him. He won’t cause trouble or bring shame to the nation, no matter where he is sent. Here’s the recording of his official prelaunch comments.”

“I will soon board this ship on humanity’s first-ever voyage into space.”

Lyudmila then played a clip she’d secretly captured with a discreet recording device.

“A person worthy of being called a hero.”

Gergiev nodded with some interest. “He is confident.”

“Handsome too,” Lyudmila said, pointing to his photo with a smile.

“Looks are important.” Gergiev turned his eyes to Lev’s files. “And then we have young Lev Leps.”

“His performance is top-class. Strong sense of justice, very sociable. Born in a poor farming village. Impulsive and acts on his emotions, for better or worse. He was pivotal to the success of the Nosferatu Project. There is one incidence of violence on his record.”

“In just a few moments, this ship will launch, laden with our dreams.”

“His dream is the dream of his people,” muttered Gergiev.

In contrast to Mikhail’s selfish comments, Lev’s represented the world he lived in.

“Even at the risk of their own life, they have to desire it; they have to want to fly into space.”

Gergiev clapped lightly. “He is passionate too.”

“Compared to Mikhail, he lacks a certain style.”

“And what did you think after meeting the two of them?”

Lyudmila lightly flicked the photograph of Lev. “Choosing this one may be something of a gamble.”

“A gamble, you say?”

“I wonder whether he could play his role and be the hero…”

The rocket was automated, so its pilot only really needed a strong enough body to withstand the trip. Deciding on the cosmonaut thus came down to what would happen upon their return.

At that moment, the car came to a gentle stop at the graveyard. The bodyguard acting as driver began to leave the car with umbrella in hand, but Lyudmila stopped him.

“Stay here. I’ll go with him.”

Lyudmila motioned to her umbrella. She and Gergiev got out of the car, and he walked over to her, carrying his bouquet of carnations. The two then strode into the graveyard. They could hear woodpeckers pecking the great pines, and wild mice hid in the shadows of the gravestones around them. It was early morning, and the two were all alone.

“Like tears, this rain.” Gergiev had once had a son in the air force. He had died in battle in 1943. “By the way…you said you wanted to speak alone. Perhaps you wanted to…invite me on a vacation?”

Lyudmila answered Gergiev’s joke with a polite smile. “Well, even the Delivery Crew wouldn’t hide wiretaps on gravestones.”

It was a fact that the Supreme Leader’s rivals secretly recorded and taped many of his activities. On top of that, intelligence agents were sniffing around like dogs, having caught wind that a launch was imminent. It was hard to do much of anything, making the graveyard a place where Lyudmila could update Gergiev with some secrecy.

“It’s about Irina Luminesk,” she said. “When the launch date is confirmed, they will push for her disposal. You’ve seen that conflicts between the people of Arnack and the dhampir have increased. That’s making the Delivery Crew anxious.”

“Well, it’s safe to say that if the world knew we’d made a young vampire into a test subject, the dhampir would turn their anger on us…”

Gergiev wiped drops of rain from his sleeve as Lyudmila showed him a photo of Irina.

“It seems a shame to kill someone so cute,” she said. “We could make her a singer. Perhaps an actress? Even the United Kingdom have their dhampir stars, you know.”

“Surely you’re joking.”

“Of course.”

Gergiev crushed a rotten pine cone under his foot. “So, if she has no use outside being a test subject, our only option is execution?”

A bolt of lightning flashed ominously across the dark sky, and the rain came down harder. Dense drops ran from the umbrella onto the photograph of Irina.

Lyudmila sent Gergiev a knowing smile. “I didn’t say she has no use. Death is a part of revolution, but as for this one…”

Thunder roared around them as Lyudmila went on.

Chapter 6:
History’s First Cosmonaut

Indigo Eyes
• oчи индиго •

WILD TULIPS BLOOMED around the Albinar Cosmodrome, and the uniquely medicinal scent of wormwood drifted through the air. Patches of snow still dotted the land, but the scenery was a far cry from December, when Irina’s rocket had launched.

It was April 9. Three days had passed since the Mechta Shest arrived. The central committee had decided that the launch would take place between April 10 and 20. Tomorrow was fast approaching, but they had yet to announce the chosen cosmonaut.

Lev and Mikhail lived and ate separately from their teammates, sharing a small cabin on the outskirts of the base. They had been ordered to do so as part of the training and selection process. Next to their cabin, a group of doctors observed them and monitored their sleep patterns through sensors in their bunks. The two were immediately examined at any hint of a change in their health; a bad prognosis would mean they’d be swapped out for one of the alternates.

On-site scientists told Lev and Mikhail that they were waiting for perfect launch weather, but it was unclear whether this was true or they were still struggling with repairs. The anticipation was awful, like a vise around Lev’s heart, constricting it with fear he couldn’t put into words.

Were they going to reschedule the launch? That thought had just taken root in Lev’s mind when things suddenly started moving. Various politicians arrived at the base, including Korovin and the committee’s top brass. People on the base began talking about them gathering at the terrace by the small river. Lev’s heart thumped hard in his chest when he heard the news.

There was no doubt as to why everyone had gathered; they were deciding who would be the first cosmonaut, just as Lt. Gen. Viktor had said. The meeting was private, held over many hours and light meals. Lev and Mikhail were restless. After eating dinner, they remained on standby, wrestling with expectation and uncertainty. Lev couldn’t stand the silence.

“It’s taking forever…” he said.

Mikhail nodded wordlessly. Lev’s throat felt dry from nerves, and he found himself drinking more water than he needed. Even Mikhail, usually a picture of calm, stood often to go look out the window, where he let out long sighs. The room echoed with the ticking of the clock. Cars passed outside, and the sound of metal hammering reached them from the distant factories.

Then there came a knock at the cabin door.

***

Lev and Mikhail were called to an austere conference room on the Albinar base. Standing before the ever-stern Lt. Gen. Viktor, the two were tense with anticipation.

“The launch date has been decided. It will be three days from now, on April 12 at 0900 hours.”

As usual, Viktor did not mince words. He was all business. He looked at Lev and Mikhail in turn.

“The cosmonaut is…”

Mikhail held his breath. Lev swallowed hard and repeated his name in his head over and over, willing Viktor to speak it.

Lev Leps. My dream…

Lt. Gen Viktor’s gaze settled on Lev. “Private Second Class Lev Leps. It’s you.”

Lev’s heart thrummed. Surprise and joy electrified every cell in his body, and his voice came out with a quiver. “Sir! I will do my utmost to carry out my duties!”

He felt the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. It was different from the thrill he’d felt at making it into the top three.

Meanwhile, Mikhail stood stock-still, blinking in shock. Lt. Gen. Viktor gazed at him coldly. “Mikhail. You are Cosmonaut #2. In the event of an emergency, you will be selected to fly.”

Mikhail was still frozen, like ice. In a raspy voice, he asked, “Why…?”

Bam! Mikhail’s fist slammed the long desk of the conference room.

“Why? Nobody outclassed me! He couldn’t beat me, and he was demoted! Why Lev? Why was he chosen?!”

Mikhail’s face was red, his anger clear, but Lt. Gen. Viktor remained dispassionate.

“It was a unanimous decision. You will accept it.”

“But—”

“Our motherland’s rocket does not carry your dreams, but the dreams of all of us. Someone who can carry those dreams dutifully and bring smiles to the people who hold them—that is a hero. And the person most suitable for that is Lev Leps.” Lt. Gen. Viktor spoke calmly, pausing to add, “That is my view on the matter.”

Mikhail knew he could not overturn the decision, but he couldn’t accept it either. His body trembled with rage, and his hands balled into fists. Lt. Gen. Viktor walked in front of him and placed an encouraging hand on his shoulder.

“This launch is not the end,” he said. “Come summer, there will be a grueling twenty-four-hour flight. We will need you and your skills for that.”

“Understood…” Mikhail nodded, biting his lip.

Lt. Gen. Viktor let out a breath as though he had just let go of a heavy weight, then faced Lev and Mikhail once more, standing up straight.

“The cosmonaut selection will be announced officially tomorrow. In preparation for the launch, you will need to fill out some documentation. Namely…” He trailed off, hesitating. “Your wills.”

A chill ran down Lev’s spine, putting a stopper in his overflowing excitement. A safe return was not guaranteed. The rocket would fly at twenty-eight thousand kilometers an hour into unknown space, and there was too much they did not know and could not predict. Though chances were low, it was conceivable that a tiny rock drifting through space could puncture the cabin and open a huge hole in it.

***

Once Lev and Mikhail returned to their cabin, they began writing their wills as Viktor ordered. In the event of a successful flight, the documents would be burned immediately. Government officials wouldn’t want people knowing that they’d sent cosmonauts into space in machinery so dangerous that a will was their ticket to board it.

Mikhail wrote in silence, his face devoid of expression. He put an invisible wall between himself and Lev, refusing to make eye contact.

Lev wanted to tell his family he’d been chosen, but he wasn’t allowed. Since leaving them at the end of last year, he’d only informed them that he would be away for work and couldn’t return. He hadn’t contacted them since. Naturally, he wasn’t permitted to tell Irina the news either. He knew he could visit his parents upon his return, but he worried about whether he’d ever see Irina again.

Korovin was on his way to the cosmodrome, and a meeting was planned for tomorrow to discuss the flight. Lev grappled with whether to ask him directly about Irina’s move to the design bureau. In the end, however, he decided it was best not to. He’d been warned once before, when he was promoted back to candidate; he’d questioned Irina’s future too persistently, and Korovin called him out on it.

Now that Lev had been selected as cosmonaut, he didn’t want to sully Korovin’s image of him by asking anything unnecessary. Not to mention Irina had trusted him with confidential information; it might make things worse if Korovin knew she’d leaked it.

Lev made up his mind and went back to writing his will. He didn’t know if the message would ever reach her, and he knew that even writing her name was out of the question, but he channeled his feelings through his pen.

“To my dearest friend, with whom I trained and looked up at the moon: you have my gratitude.”

***

April 10. Preparations went full speed ahead for the rocket launch, and each day’s work started before dawn. Less than fifty hours remained, and the base was a frenzied hub of activity. However, since the project was strictly confidential and unknown to the general public, nearby residents could be seen lazily fishing by the river.

The central committee held an official meeting about the launch in the cosmodrome’s auditorium. Lev attended, already knowing what was going to happen. It was just an announcement for the nation’s political leaders—a formality for the official record.

“We hereby appoint Private Second Class Lev Leps as cosmonaut,” said the person in charge of the agenda.

Lev stood. “You have entrusted me with duties that will go down in history,” he declared, “and I vow to complete them with pride and honor.”

Applause echoed through the auditorium. The photographers in attendance had Lev, and only Lev, in their sights. While Roza and the other reserves clapped, Lev shot Mikhail an apologetic look.

After he finished with his official appointment, Lev felt eyes on him from a corner of the auditorium. He searched for the source and saw Lyudmila breaking into a grin. She gave him a casual wave, then left without asking permission from anyone around her, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

***

Korovin called out to Lev and Mikhail as they left the committee meeting. It was finally time for their detailed briefing.

It had been four months since Lev last saw the man. Korovin had a face full of stubble, and he’d lost an unhealthy amount of weight. His exhaustion was clear at a glance; he must have worked through many sleepless days and nights. But his gaze was still alight with excitement and energy.

“My zilant! It has been so long! But let us save our celebrations until after your return!” He gripped Lev’s hand in a strong handshake, his hands blackened and dirty with oil.

“Chief!” Lev greeted him.

Korovin then turned to the dispirited Mikhail. “Mikhail, you too must make sure to be well prepared,” he said kindly.

“Yes, sir…”

Mikhail spoke no more than necessary and in a purely businesslike manner. Lev knew how hard this must be for him, but Mikhail was so down that he was difficult to approach.

They went to a meeting room, where Lev and Mikhail took their seats. Korovin remained standing, and an apologetic look spread across his face as he began.

“The wills we had you write were essential, but…I have one more request. We did not have time to make the retrorockets functional for landing. This means that, as Comrade Irina did, you will eject from the cabin and descend via parachute.”

Lev nodded. “I don’t see the problem.”

“That’s not the problem,” Korovin said, shaking his head. “For the official record, however, we need you to say that you made a safe landing inside the cabin.”

“But…why would we need to say that?”

Seeing the confusion on Lev’s face, Korovin placed a confidential document in front of him. It had been officially stamped by the committee. “Again, it’s for the official record.”

The reason for the lie was that the nation was applying for a flight altitude world record through the International Aviation Association. As a rule, a flight was considered a failure if there was an ejection at the point of return. Parachute landings were not permitted; that rule held no matter how high the flight was.

Korovin gave Lev a deep, remorseful bow. “I’m so sorry, Lev. The will, and now this… I don’t like any of it. I know it’s not much of an excuse, but we’ll lose our development budget if we don’t obey. The budget makers are already of the opinion that we don’t need manned spaceflights. They think unmanned probes could gather the data we require.”

Lev felt Korovin’s pain as if it were his own.

“I will do my duty,” he said sympathetically. “There will be no problems.”

It pained him, of course. The lie he told would echo into eternity, and the children of the future would believe it as truth. It was easy to brush it off by saying there was no other choice, but Lev had his doubts.

Korovin read Lev’s feelings in his face. He clapped his hands together before changing the subject. “Let’s talk about something more fun, shall we? Your call sign, for instance. We’re frankly having some trouble with it. We just can’t decide. It will be etched into human history, after all.”

There were a few basic conditions for call signs. They had to be easy to understand, and they couldn’t overlap with other radio terminology. Beyond that, anything was fine. Hearing Korovin talk about that subject brought a question to Lev’s mind.

“Why was Irina’s call sign Lycoris?” he asked. “Was it because of her eye color?” The lycoris was poisonous, which didn’t give him a good impression.

“Her eyes are indeed red…” said Korovin, trailing off.

Lev pushed a little further. “But why the lycoris specifically? There are lots of red flowers. You could have chosen any one of them.”

“Well…” Korovin scratched the back of his head, a little embarrassed. “The lycoris is said to symbolize the joy of reunion. It was a way of wishing her a safe return. I did not tell anyone but her that meaning, though it seemed to make her happy.”

“Ah… I see…”

Lev had assumed the choice was simply made because of the color of her eyes, but his heart quivered at Korovin’s devotion. He was not the only one who felt Irina was important. It relieved him to know that others cared for her too. Perhaps her talk of moving to the design bureau was really true after all.

“What? Is it so strange that I chose the name of a flower based on what it symbolizes?” asked Korovin.

“Yes,” Lev blurted before realizing how rude it sounded. “Oh, no. What I mean is, um…!”

He was fumbling, but Korovin seemed wholly unbothered. “Many scientists are romantics at heart. But as for your call sign, how about Cedar? It means ‘I live for you,’ or in your case, for our nation.”

Lev shook his head. He had his own idea. “Is there a flower that means something along the lines of praying for the safety of a person you’re apart from?”

“Hrm?”

“I want a call sign that reflects the feeling of praying for the nation’s people, and for those most important to you.”

Korovin hummed, then grinned as an answer struck him.

“Aster,” he said.

***

On the afternoon of April 11, launch preparations entered their final stages, and the rocket was placed on the launchpad. Like a grand silver tower, the huge rocket gleamed in the gentle light of the spring sun.

Nearby, Lev and Mikhail went through boarding procedures with Korovin. Lev had already seen a rocket at Irina’s launch, but knowing that he would ride it this time filled him with complete and utter awe. Mikhail was as dispassionate as usual, but he sighed less now.

Korovin looked even more haggard than the previous day, having been up since five in the morning to oversee transportation of the rocket and all its system checks. However, he did not stop to rest. He was far too busy gesturing this way and that as he gave orders.

“The flight plan remains the same as it was for Irina,” he told them. Upon his arrival in space, Lev would be in zero gravity for six minutes, do a lap around the planet, and then return.

Korovin went on to explain the reporting process from space. “Radio communications between the cosmonaut and the surface will not be broadcast live across the world. Once your arrival in space is confirmed, the national broadcast will make its first announcement, letting the world know that the launch was successful. Your own radio communications are scheduled to play the evening news.”

He warned Lev to say that he was in good health throughout his flight, even if he did not feel perfectly healthy. His instructions were to say nothing at all in the event that his condition took a turn for the worse.

Those instructions sparked a question in Lev’s mind. What announcement would be given if, after the first national broadcast, there was an accident and he couldn’t make it home? If that happened, was it possible they would use Mikhail as a stand-in? Lev didn’t want to believe it, but doubt pricked his heart.

As he debated whether to voice his concerns, he noticed that Korovin had broken into an unusual sweat. In the next instant, the man let out a pained groan and collapsed, clutching his chest.

“Chief?!”

Lev and Mikhail rushed to his side. Korovin’s face was white as a sheet, and his breathing was ragged. He looked on the verge of fainting.

“Ugh… My apologies. I wonder if you might…take me to my room for a moment.”

After returning to his room for medicine and half an hour of rest, Korovin waved Lev and Mikhail off as they sat by his bedside.

“Do not worry about me. You two are to continue your launch practice.”

As if to prove his health to them, Korovin casually lit a cigarette. Lev wanted to stay with him, but he still had a mountain of things to memorize and learn before launch.

“Please take it easy, Chief.”

Leaving Korovin in the doctors’ care, Lev returned to the launch site. Everybody was worried about the man’s condition.

Although Korovin didn’t talk about himself at all, he had been put through enough punishment to kill a man after he was arrested on false charges and sent to the mines. He’d been beaten until his bones were broken, and malnutrition had made him horribly sick. Forced labor also took its toll on his heart. Even then, Korovin had held on to his dream of launching a rocket into space, and six years later, he’d returned.

After that, he’d made the United Kingdom tremble as a national secret—a scientific genius. He pushed ever forward to realize his dream, but his battered body never fully healed. The price he’d paid with his blood, sweat, and tears had bought this marvel right in front of them, mere moments before its launch—the rocket Mechta.

***

April 12. Launch day. It was 0530 hours, and the eastern sky began turning pale white.

A doctor gently shook Lev to rouse him from sleep. “Wake up.”

“Mmn… Oh… Good morning.”

Lev was relieved that they believed he’d been asleep. In reality, his head had been overstuffed with thoughts and feelings—about his will, Korovin, his family, and Irina. Try as he might, he hadn’t slept a wink. The doctors had checked on him numerous times, but he feigned sleep all the while.

Despite the launch being right in front of him, Lev went through the same motions as usual. He did some light stretching and exercises, then had breakfast. He and Mikhail sat together at the same table, eating the same dishes: space food, soup, bread with jam, and coffee. Even now, Mikhail was distant.

When they’d returned to their cabin the previous evening, Lev had tried to strike up conversation.

“I hope the Chief recovers in time for launch,” he’d said.

But Mikhail had only met him with a cold gaze in return. Lev desperately wanted them to be on good terms before the launch, but it seemed that speaking to Mikhail had the opposite effect.

As they prepared in complete silence, the woman tasked with looking after their cabin brought a bouquet of flowers as a parting gift.

“My son was a pilot,” she said. “He went missing in the war, but I’m sure he’s with God up there in space. Send him my love if you see him.”

Lev took the flowers and smiled. “Of course,” he said kindly. “What’s your son’s name?”

As Lev talked to the woman, he felt Mikhail’s eyes on him.

***

With their final health checks done, Lev and Mikhail went to their respective locker rooms to put on their space suits. On the front of the helmets were the letters of the UZSR. They’d taken what Lev did for Irina and made it part of the process.

Lev remembered that moment well. When he’d arrived on the scene, Irina had been surrounded by engineers trying to wrench her necklace from her hands. How lonely she must have felt, swarmed by those she couldn’t trust. But when Lev saw her in her space suit, he’d thought of her as a full-fledged cosmonaut. He wondered if he looked the same in his own suit. As much as he wanted to ask Irina, he couldn’t. She wasn’t here.

“Time to go! Everybody on the bus!” came Lt. Gen. Viktor’s voice.

There was no more time for Lev to linger on stray thoughts and memories, so he quickly jumped on the jam-packed bus headed for the launchpad. Mikhail boarded after him. Lt. Gen. Viktor, the medical officers, and other military staff were also onboard, and so were an official photographer and a newspaper reporter. When Irina headed for the launchpad, it had been a lonely, desolate ride. In comparison, Lev’s bus was wrapped in enthusiastic energy.

The bus rumbled along slowly toward the launchpad some three kilometers away. Lev looked out the window at the fiery glow of the sunrise, and the rocket standing silently in wait. He felt himself get more and more nervous. When people talked to him, he tried to reply with good-natured jokes. Mikhail sat in silence with his eyes closed.

Then Lev was hit by a sudden, strong urge to pee.

What do I do?!

There was no toilet at the launchpad. The VIPs in the bus were simply waiting. Launch wasn’t for another two hours. Could he hold it in until he came back down to Earth?

A doctor noticed Lev’s discomfort. “Something wrong?”

Lev made up his mind. He couldn’t hold it anymore. “I’m so sorry…but…I need a little time!”

Fear rippled through the bus at Lev’s tone.

“What is it?!”

“I’ve really, really got to go to the bathroom!”

The bus went eerily quiet, then erupted with laughter.

“Worry not, comrade!”

“Get off the bus and do your business around back! We will not have you dirty such a sacred space suit!”

Lev’s face flared red with embarrassment, but the tension in the air seemed to dissipate entirely.

“We’ve got plenty of time until launch, so no need to rush!”

Lev dashed off the bus and looked around for cover, but there was nothing nearby. He circled to the back of the vehicle.

“Phew…”

As he was standing in place, finishing his business, Mikhail got off the bus and stood next to him.

“Oh, Mikhail, you heard the call of nature too?”

“Idiot. I went earlier.”

Lev laughed. “That’s so like you, always thinking ahead.”

While Lev relieved himself, Mikhail put a hand on his shoulder and brought his head close. “Congratulations…”

“Huh?” Lev was so shocked, he almost stopped midstream.

“Someone who can carry the dreams of the people dutifully, and bring smiles to those who hold them as he carries out his tasks… That’s you.”

“Mikhail…?”

Lev finished and refitted his space suit. When he was done, Mikhail turned to him.

“If I were the chosen cosmonaut, and I told everyone I needed to go to the bathroom, they would’ve been bewildered…but then again, I’d never say that. I would have solely focused on playing the part of the perfect hero. But that hero doesn’t really exist.” Mikhail stared at the rocket towering in the distance. “I’ll be honest with you. Last night, when you were hoping that the Chief would recover in time for launch, I hoped you’d get sick. Until even just a few moments ago, I prayed they’d find something wrong with your suit. So I guess it’s only natural that I wasn’t selected.”

Mikhail chuckled and went on, holding back tears. “These last few days, with the two of us living together, I think I understand why you were chosen—both as the supervisor for the Nosferatu Project and the cosmonaut for this flight.”

Lev then admitted to Mikhail something he’d felt since he put on the space suit. “Thank you, Mikhail… But even now, I still don’t really understand. I don’t know what makes a good cosmonaut…or how I’m supposed to carry myself…”

Mikhail smiled. “Be yourself. Nobody knows how to be a cosmonaut yet. You’re the first.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right…”

Mikhail hugged Lev, their visors touching as if they were their cheeks. “You take my dream up there with you too, okay?”

Seeing Mikhail’s smile, Lev felt his heart grow lighter.

Chapter 7:
Hero of the Motherland

Indigo Eyes
• oчи индиго •

LEV’S PARACHUTE DESCENDED through clear blue skies. He landed safely. His trip through space had lasted a total of 108 minutes.

“Phew… I made it. I’m back.” Lev’s relief at his safe return outshone the joy of his trip through space.

An old woman and a young girl working fields nearby watched him anxiously. The young girl was so scared, she hid behind a cow. Lev was still clad in his space suit. He took his helmet off and pointed at the sky.

“Please don’t be scared,” he said. “I just came back from space.”

The frightened old woman squinted to look at him more closely. “You… Are you that one from the radio… Mr. Lev?”

“That’s me. Lev Leps.”

“The first cosmonaut, Lev Leps?”

“Uhh… Well…” Lev was hesitant to ignore Irina’s efforts and claim he was first.

“Wow! Comrade Leps?!” the girl squealed.

“Erm, yes, that’s me.”

“Everyone! Get over here! It’s the cosmonaut! The real thing! It’s the real Lev Leps!”

At first, the young girl’s shouts only caused people nearby to share doubtful gazes. Within a few moments, however, they abandoned their farming tools to run over and see for themselves.

Lev knew he was a hero to these people, so he put his reluctance aside and smiled. “Hello, comrades. I’m the cosmonaut Lev Leps.”

“Comrade! Glory to the motherland!”

Lev found himself suddenly surrounded by farmers, all of whom clamored for handshakes, autographs, or photographs. A few minutes later, an air force truck zoomed in at high speed, and a few military personnel jumped from it.

“Major Lev Leps!” one shouted.

“Major? But I’m—”

He was about to tell them he was just a private but stopped himself. He realized there was a chance he’d been promoted during his flight. The military personnel gathered the farmers.

“Did you see the landing?” asked an officer.

The old woman nodded happily. “We did! He parachuted down and—”

“He did not parachute down! He came down in his rocket ship! Are we clear?”

They were already moving to take control of the narrative.

***

Lev was taken to the nearest air force base, where he reported his safe arrival to First Secretary Gergiev by way of the officers’ phone. If he’d gone back in time and told himself as a reserve that one day he’d be on the phone with Gergiev himself, he never would have believed it. However, it was no dream.

On the other end of the line, Gergiev’s voice was calm and composed. “My dear Lev Leps, it is my greatest pleasure to hear from you after your historic spaceflight.”

Reminding himself that the call was being recorded, Lev chose his next words carefully. “That I completed my duties safely is all thanks to the support of my comrades.”

Gergiev listened as Lev ran through his flight report, marveling at each detail and praising him. “Comrade Leps, your name will be carved into history for all eternity. You are the first human ever to fly through space.”

It sounded like an overstatement, an exaggeration, yet it was true. As long as the human race did not go extinct, Lev’s flight through space would be talked about for thousands, if not tens of thousands, of years. Still, the thought of it being his name people recollected left Lev uncomfortable once more.

At the conclusion of their phone call, Gergiev informed Lev that a huge celebration would be held in Sangrad to commemorate his triumphant return.

“The event is scheduled for the day after tomorrow, the fourteenth. We can expect hundreds of thousands of our people to be there. The world must mark your meritorious feats!”

After finishing on the phone, Lev dressed in an all-new military uniform complete with major’s epaulets. He then flew to the farming city of Volshev for rest and post-flight examinations.

Lev’s schedule was carefully controlled down to the minute, and he still hadn’t had a chance even to contact his parents. When he mentioned that to the military officer acting as his guide, the man brushed his worries aside in a single comment: “The two of them will attend the celebration.”

Lev had a feeling that meant the government intended to use them as part of the show—a grand reunion in front of the nation’s citizenry.

What was going to happen now that he’d returned? Did Irina know about his flight?

Questions Lev could not answer whirled in his mind. He looked out the window to the swampland scenery. Nothing had changed since he left for space, yet his heart and body felt heavier after returning.

***

The Volshev airfield was packed with thousands of people who had heard about Lev’s scheduled arrival, and the military was sent to keep the situation under control. People held up signs or wrote messages on their clothing welcoming the nation’s new hero.

ZIRNITRA UNION, SPACE NATION

VICTORY!

SPACE IS OURS!

Lev was the center of attention, and he smiled at everyone, waved, and signed his name when asked. That was exactly what he had to do, now that he was a cosmonaut carrying the hopes and dreams of the Union’s people.

The more he was praised and celebrated, however, the more the seed of doubt in Lev’s heart grew.

***

Lev was taken to a quiet dacha by the riverside to avoid the big, rowdy banquet celebration. Guards kept watch over the grounds, and anyone who dared to come close was quickly sent packing.

In the cottage’s spacious bedroom, Lev felt like he could finally take a break. He indulged in a luxurious meal without eating any space food whatsoever and had his first sip of zhizni in several months. The taste was like life returning to his weary body.

As he underwent medical examinations, however, the evening news began, and it brought with it waves that rocked the calm in his heart.

The newscaster was ecstatic. “We have recorded comments from space from humanity’s first cosmonaut, Major Lev Leps!”

Soon after, Lev heard his voice, combined with light static.

“It’s wrapped in a transparent blue veil.”

“The stars, they’re like flowers… Like beautiful blooming chervils. They’re sparkling.”

The newscaster returned on-screen, smiling ear to ear. “Celebratory messages are flooding the prime minister’s office from around the world. Many children born on this historic day have been named Lev!”

Lev wanted to block his ears. He felt as if each radio transmission and word of celebration carved away at his very soul.

“You look pale,” said a doctor. “Are you okay?”

Lev quickly pulled himself together. “I…I’m just a little tired, I think. I’m not used to this kind of attention…”

The doctor laughed. “Well, that’s because you’re the first one to receive it. Nobody else has gone to space before!”

More laughter filled the cottage. Lev felt a sudden urge to reveal the truth, but he knew that if he did, he’d be locked in a solitary ward “because his condition had deteriorated upon his return.” The doctors must have noticed the grave expression on his face because they soon called for quiet.

“All right, that’s enough, everyone. Let’s give the hero his much-needed rest. He’s got a busy schedule tomorrow.”

Everyone celebrated with quick cheers and drinks before emptying the room, leaving Lev alone.

He reminded himself that he had a role to play and a duty to fulfill. He didn’t want anyone saying that Mikhail or Roza would’ve been a better choice. If that happened, he wouldn’t be able to look them in the eye. Not them, not the people who chose him in the first place, and certainly not Irina.

***

The day after the flight, the excitement and commotion showed no signs of dying down. If anything, the rest of the world was being drawn in, and things were heating up. The United Kingdom’s heads of state held an emergency press conference, admitting defeat upon hearing the “terrible” news. Arnack News criticized the government: “Our country was snuggled up in bed, dreaming away, while the Union was out there making its dreams a reality.”

Pictures of Lev and announcements of victory were plastered all over the Union’s newspapers. However, there were no photos of Korovin, the man who’d put the most into the project. His name wasn’t even brought up. Instead, the newspapers only mentioned him in passing; for instance, in a throwaway line that ended in “…thanks to the efforts of the chief designer.” Even now that the project was a confirmed success, Korovin was still a tightly kept national secret.

Lev sat on a leather sofa in an office reading a copy of The Istina. For a moment, he considered Irina and Korovin’s circumstances one and the same, but he quickly realized they were fundamentally different. While Korovin was an indispensable genius the Union could not do without, Irina could disappear now that her flight was over, and it would have almost no impact on anyone at all.

“Pull it together, Lev!” he said to himself, tossing the paper across the room in frustration.

Lev picked up a copy of his flight log to prepare for the interview scheduled after lunch. A press conference was being arranged for world media outlets, but today was purely for The Istina and the National Broadcasting Service. Everything Lev said would spread across the world as the official record, so it was of the utmost importance that he make no mistakes.

Memories of the launch rose to the top of his mind while he reviewed his flight log. As he found himself basking in the feelings he remembered from his spaceflight, he felt like he saw Irina’s script overlaid on his own. Lev sighed and fell back against the sofa.

He was so worried, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. The more he did, the more anxious he grew about where she was and what she was doing. It had gotten so bad that he yearned to blame the effects of zero gravity.

If she isn’t going to be employed in the design bureau, where are they going to take her?

Lev hung his head as he held the flight log in front of him.

A knock sounded at the door. “I’m coming in.”

Lev knew the deep voice well. The door opened, and Korovin shuffled inside, disguised with a cap pulled low. He lifted the brim of his cap and grinned at Lev.

“Chief!”

Lev leaped to his feet and trotted over to Korovin. It had only been a day, yet he felt like it had been years. They embraced with a strong hug and congratulated each other on their shared success.

“You did it! I knew you could fly, zilant!”

“Aw, Chief…!”

Korovin’s bloodshot eyes welled with tears as he looked at Lev. “I can tell you now that we found weaknesses during Irina Luminesk’s launch, and for a time, we fell into despair. But you did it. You came back. Thank you.” His wide smile made the corners of his eyes wrinkle.

Lev wanted to ask if anything had changed for Irina, but he and Korovin had talked briefly before launch, and the man hadn’t been able to help. He also didn’t want to spoil this moment of happiness for Korovin, who had finally seen his dream come true after many long years. Lev trusted that if something happened to Irina, Korovin would let him know, so he kept quiet.

Still, it wasn’t just Irina he was worried about.

“What about Mikhail, Roza, and the others? How are they?”

“They’re all happy. They want to see you, but until they fly, they are just anonymous air force privates. They cannot come here without raising suspicion, so they will attend your celebration in Sangrad as part of the crowd. As will I. I’m glad I got to see you before then, but for now, I must be off.”

Korovin wrapped Lev in another bear hug, then began to leave.

“Chief, I…”

“What is it?”

Lev pointed at the newspaper. “They didn’t write a thing about you,” he said.

He knew it was political, but he felt guilty being the only one splashed across the media.

Korovin laughed in response. “I don’t care about that. If giving them my face increased our budget, I’d publish my own photo collection! Besides, I am still in the process of chasing my dreams. I want to see humanity’s first spacewalk. I want to send people to the moon, and then Mars. I want to build a space station and a lunar base. Once I do those things, perhaps I’ll let them commemorate me with a statue!”

Korovin and Irina had both used the political system to make their dreams reality. Irina hadn’t even wanted to be famous. Had she ever wished to see herself on the cover of a newspaper with a big headline saying, “I WANTED TO BEAT HUMANS TO SPACE”?

Lev was lost in thought. When Korovin pinched his cheek, it yanked him back to reality. “Ouch!”

“You wish to reunite with Lycoris, is that not so, Aster?”

“Uh…”

“You are as clear as glass,” Korovin chuckled.

“I know…” Lev hung his head.

Korovin took out a cigarette. “Last night, I tried pressuring Comrade Gergiev into seeing my point of view, but he didn’t budge,” he said. “I doubt I can do much else.”

“I understand…”

Judging by the dejected look on Korovin’s face, his hands were just as tied as Lev’s. Still, Lev was grateful to him. The man had made time to find out about Irina, although he had his own hectic schedule to deal with.

A bitter expression washed across Korovin’s features as he lit his cigarette. “I did tell you, didn’t I? About the sacrifices this life would bring.”

Lev remembered his words.

“Should you graduate and become history’s first cosmonaut, you will bear that responsibility for the rest of your life. The words that come out of your mouth will no longer just be your own. You will be devoting your life to our motherland, and that may involve sacrificing your connections with those you love. Are you prepared for that?”

While Lev hadn’t taken those words lightly, he had never imagined this kind of pressure crushing him. He still felt worried and lost.

Korovin stared straight at him. “Do you know why I recommended you as our first cosmonaut?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Because I deemed you capable of bearing the responsibility, and of leading the world into a new age.”

“Me? But…”

Lev felt a cold sweat break out on his back. Everything was suddenly so much larger than he was ready for.

“Zilant,” said Korovin with a kind smile, “I look forward to the celebrations.”

And then he left.

“Sacrifices…”

Lev thought about it for a time, but it was like walking through a maze with no exit. Besides, he had an interview to prepare for. He picked the flight log back up. If he didn’t want to disappoint the reporters, he’d have to play his role—a hero people could admire, the sort of person the public expected history’s first cosmonaut to be.

Play a role, huh?

A self-deprecating chuckle fell from his lips. He wasn’t even sure who he was anymore.

***

Lev’s interviews began in the afternoon.

“As a fellow citizen of the Union, let me just say it’s such an honor to be the first to talk to you. You’re a hero of the people!”

The reporters couldn’t hide their enthusiasm, which dripped from their voices. They stank of liquor, and Lev imagined they’d done their fair share of toasting the nation’s victory.

Awe, respect, and envy danced on the Istina reporter’s face as Lev described his experiences during the flight—the excitement and nerves, the scenery from the window, the feeling of zero gravity. Lev said nothing about the cosmodrome or the actual rocket, as those were considered military secrets. He was also forbidden to mention that he’d written a will.

The reporter leaned forward, peppering him with questions. “And what’s space like?!”

Lev spoke slowly, so as not to make any mistakes. “It was incredibly dark. Pitch-black. The stars are hundreds of times brighter than they look from Earth. They truly sparkle up there.”

“How did the Earth look?!”

“It’s surrounded in blue. It shines as if covered in a blue veil.”

Lev felt a pang of guilt at once again using Irina’s words as his own.

As his heart grew cold, the reporter heated up. “So, the Earth is blue! What about the moon?!”

“Unfortunately, I couldn’t see it. But I have a feeling it’s right there, waiting for our arrival.”

Lev’s smile never left his lips, but it never made its way to his indigo eyes either. The interview continued without pause, and the reporter finally began to run out of questions.

“You heard the rumors about Captain Susnin?”

“Everyone on the Mechta Shest team had a good laugh over it. Little more than the fantasies of the space-drunk, I think.”

As he answered, Lev had to wonder—what would the world do if they found out about Irina? He was certain the government would have her quietly disposed of and then claim it was all misinformation. Even if Lev did tell the Istina reporter that the real first cosmonaut was a young female vampire, his answer would be censored and erased. There was no point trying.

“Okay, last question. You’ve conquered space, and you’re the hero of hundreds of thousands of people. Do you have anything you’d like to say to your comrades, and to the readers of The Istina?”

Did they really just say “conquered space”…? Talk about an exaggeration.

Lev chuckled on the inside but maintained a straight face. “We achieved our dreams of spaceflight thanks to our nation’s tremendous scientific knowledge.”

Roza’s words flashed through his mind: A honey tongue, a heart of gall.

That was exactly what he’d become.

***

When the interviews were finally over, Lev was allowed a short walk to relax, but bodyguards still surrounded him. He was hoping for a quiet stroll by the lake as the sun set, but there were so many people gathering like ants—all of them space-drunk. They shouted, called for autographs, and loaded him with more food than he could possibly carry; none of it was relaxing in the slightest.

By the time he made it back to the dacha, Lev was exhausted. He was taken aback by the woman there waiting for him, who sat in a garden chair eating ice cream. It was Lyudmila, decked out in a black suit.

“Long time no see,” she said. “I told you I’d see you again when the cosmonaut was decided, didn’t I?”

“What do you want?”

Lev was tired and on edge. He couldn’t read Lyudmila, so he kept his guard up around her.

Lyudmila read his expression and pouted, pointing at him with her ice cream. “You remember my job, of course? I’m the speechwriter for our Supreme Leader. I’m here to help you write your speech for the grand celebration. First, we have the flight report meeting with Comrade Gergiev at the airport. After that, we’ll move to the Neglin’s city square, where you’ll give a victory speech to a crowd of two hundred thousand people.”

***

Lev and Lyudmila headed to the cottage’s office, where she showed him a document.

“Congratulations,” she said. “You’ve been awarded two new titles.”

There was Lev’s name in showy print, along with a pair of gold-star medals. He’d received the Union’s highest honor, “Hero of the Zirnitra Union.” A brand-new title had also been established to honor his achievement: “Cosmonaut of the Zirnitra Union.” Lev grew dizzy at the weight of the awards. He felt too young for such honors.

Meanwhile, Lyudmila casually rifled through the celebratory gifts piled in the corner of the room. “They’ll also erect a bronze statue of you in Sangrad and a commemorative plaque at your landing site. They’re producing celebratory medals and a run of ten million stamps and postcards. Additionally, there are plans to publish a book on you and have it translated all over the world.”

“Uh, okay…” Lev could only nod along.

“Now, let’s make sure to write a speech befitting a national hero. This celebration is something of a historical first for the Union; it’s going to be a live global broadcast.”

“Did you say ‘global’?”

“Oh, and it’ll play over the radio for places without televisions. That’s around three billion people watching and listening in. Sends a shiver down your spine, doesn’t it?”

Unlike Lyudmila, who wore an ear-to-ear grin, Lev felt something sour crawl up from his stomach.

“Come on, get to writing,” Lyudmila said. “Don’t worry, I’ll help sharpen it up.”

She sat off to the side, eating snacks and fruit as she read the newspaper. Lev stared at the blank white page in front of him, pencil in hand, thinking about what to write.

But the pencil never moved.

Every time he tried to start with a line like “As history’s first…” or “On this historical occasion…” he thought of Irina, weeping in the field in the midst of that snowstorm. At one point, he realized he’d written “Cosmonaut Irina Luminesk,” and had to quickly erase the words.

The longer Lev tried to write a heroic speech praising his nation, the more reservations he had. He stole a glance at Lyudmila. As Gergiev’s right hand, surely she knew what was happening to Irina. If the vampire girl was still in the Sangrad hospital, that would put her right next to the square where the celebration was set to take place. Could he ask whether Irina would come to see it?

Lyudmila opened a box of chocolates and looked at Lev. “What are you staring at? You want something to eat?”

Unable to express his honest concerns, Lev said, “Er, yes. I am a bit hungry.”

“Fine, have some of this,” she said, passing Lev a little chocolate. “Something sweet might get those writing cogs turning in your brain.” Then she swiftly swiped his paper.

“Ah, I haven’t finished—”

“You write, I’ll edit.”

Lyudmila grinned as she started reading the speech, but her eyebrow twitched when she got partway through, and her expression hardened as she followed the rest with her finger.

“If this were a test, you’d fail.” Lyudmila crumpled the paper into a ball and went on. “I don’t feel nearly enough gratitude in these words for our Supreme Leader or the nation. Mikhail would have done a much better job.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

She was exactly right. Lev’s head drooped. He picked up his pencil and was about to start a second attempt when Lyudmila fixed him with a suspicious glare.

“By the way, I see you dropping into little daydreams as you write. Are you worried about her? Irina Luminesk, I mean.”

Lev nearly staggered. It was like Lyudmila had read his mind.

“I…well, no… Why would I be?”

“She’s dead.”

“What?”

“She’s dead.”

There was no emotion in Lyudmila’s voice; it was like she was reading from a bland report. Lev felt lost.

“The Delivery Crew mixed cyanide into her breakfast this morning. They cut off her head as she vomited blood, and they ran a stake through her heart to make sure she wouldn’t come back. They put the corpse in its coffin, burned it, and buried the ashes deep in the earth. There is no trace of the girl’s existence.”

Lev’s mind went blank. His blood froze, and his breath caught in his throat.

Chapter 8:
To a New World

Indigo Eyes
• oчи индиго •

APRIL 14, 1400 HOURS. A large passenger plane soared over the marshlands through skies full of a light spring haze. The aircraft was destined for the airport closest to Sangrad.

Lev was inside the charter plane, dressed in formal wear. He was busy memorizing the event schedule and his speech, which was largely written by Lyudmila. She sat by his side and, as always, had snacks on hand to pick at.

“Do you ever stop eating?”

Lyudmila smiled at his question. “Well, you never know when we might end up in an emergency, right? And shouldn’t you focus more on your speech than my eating habits?”

“I memorized it.”

Lev felt himself getting brainwashed every time he read the speech. An uncomfortable sensation gnawed the pit of his stomach whenever he imagined speaking the words in front of a crowd.

As the plane neared Sangrad, seven fighter jets moved in to escort them in formation, giving Lev a true hero’s welcome. Outside the window, Lev could see people crammed into the airport grounds, eagerly awaiting the arrival of their national hero. A banner hanging across the airport building read, “CONQUEROR OF SPACE: COMRADE LEV LEPS OF THE ZIRNITRA UNION.”

Sweat dotted Lev’s forehead. This welcome was way over the top. He muttered, “This is crazy…”

Lyudmila remained perfectly calm, clearly used to pompous formalities. “Wait until you see the city. Maybe we can catch a good glimpse of it now.”

The plane circled the air above Sangrad, and what Lev saw took his breath away. Every building flew the flag of the black dragon. People packed the streets and square, hoisting paintings of Lev and signboards into the air. They flowed into the Grand City Square like blood pulsing through the city’s veins.

“Whoa…” The sight sent a shiver down Lev’s spine.

Lyudmila slapped his knee. “They’re all here for you, so don’t let them down, okay? None of this staring blankly into space, you hear me? Oh, and your shoe is untied.”

Lev tried to do up his shoes with trembling fingers, but they kept untying all over again. At around 2:37 p.m., his plane landed at the airport, bathed in the warm light of the afternoon sun. Shouts and screams from the waiting crowd filled the air.

“He’s here!”

“It’s Comrade Lev!”

Their plane coasted down the runway, stopping right next to a red carpet prepared especially for this occasion. The carpet led into the airport, and crowds on either side clamored for a closer look. Security struggled to hold them back, as if trying to stop a human avalanche.

Lev stepped out the plane’s door with a stiff expression. The people broke into applause and shouted his name, all roaring like thunder. They cried with enthusiasm, their emotions overflowing as tears. TV camera crews scrambled to get good footage, and journalists scribbled in their notebooks.

Another shiver ran through Lev. He was even more nervous now than he had been for the actual spaceflight.

He took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this.”

With that, he walked down the stairs and across the red carpet. Seventy meters ahead was a platform, the stage for his flight report. Fresh flowers decorated the stage, and in its center stood Gergiev, looking especially dignified in his formal attire. Around him, the nation’s highest-ranked staff all stood in neat rows. They included central committee members, top government officials, and a stoic-looking Lt. Gen. Viktor.

A man and woman stood in the corner, looking terribly out of place in their shabby work clothes. They were Lev’s parents. At a glance, Lev guessed that their choice of dress was planned. Keeping his parents in their usual clothes was likely an order intended to help the moment better connect with the citizens of the nation. Lev’s father stood as still as a statue, while his mother dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. It had been a whole year since he last saw them, and they looked thinner.

Lev looked for Korovin, but he was not among those onstage. Instead, he stood in a corner of the crowd. Seeing him subjected to such treatment made Lev bitter and sad. But Korovin himself looked elated, as if he were seeing his own son there on the red carpet. Their eyes locked for a moment.

“Victory!” cried Korovin, grinning as he waved his cap.

Lev felt a pang in his heart at the man’s sheer modesty, but he bit his lip and held the feeling down.

The military brass band began a triumphant rendition of the national air force march. Lev took a nervous first step, but he found it easier as his legs began to move. He walked along the carpet in time with the music. Around him, the crowd whooped and cheered, so passionate and enthusiastic that he broke out in a sweat. He continued down the carpet and neared the stage. As he walked, he passed foot soldiers armed with guns.

Once he reached the stage, Lev stood at attention before Gergiev, and Gergiev stood straight in return. This was the first time Lev had seen the nation’s leader in person. For a moment, he felt like the man’s palpable, overflowing confidence was about to swallow him.

Then the music stopped. There was no going back now. With this report, Lev’s official duties as history’s first cosmonaut would begin.

Lev saluted Gergiev. Projecting his voice loud and clear, he said, “First Secretary of the Zirnitra Union, Comrade Gergiev, sir! It is my great honor to report to you here my completion of humanity’s first-ever spaceflight!”

Irina’s face floated into his mind at the words “first ever.” His heart throbbed painfully, but he pressed on.

“It will be my honor to continue my duties, whatever they are, for you and for the sake of our motherland! That concludes the report of Cosmonaut Major Lev Leps!”

He stood back at attention as the crowd erupted into applause and whistles.

Gergiev beamed as he wrapped Lev in a hug, then kissed him on both cheeks. “Congratulations!”

The military brass band began to play the national anthem, and the collective voice of the crowd wrapped around Lev. As their singing swelled powerfully, his chest tightened. The song was like a weight sinking him from the ears, pulling him toward the ground. He wanted to get away from it so badly, he would have chosen the noise bath over it.

However, none of those conflicting emotions reached the surface. Lev put on his smile, shook hands with VIPs, and played his role.

“Now, Lev. Your parents are waiting for you.” Gergiev took Lev’s hand and led him to his mother and father, then bowed to them in deep reverence. “You have my heartfelt gratitude for raising a true hero of our nation.”

Lev’s parents, entirely flustered, bowed back. Then his mother broke into tears, clutching Lev’s face as she spoke in a trembling voice. “Lev, you never said… We never knew…”

“I’m sorry, Mother…” Lev almost cried right there himself, but he knew he couldn’t let such an expression cross the face of a hero.

His father, holding his emotions deep within himself, took an old piece of paper from his shirt and showed it to Lev. “Do you remember this?” he asked.

“Hm?”

It was a child’s drawing, done in colored pencil. Lev stood with his family on the surface of the moon, a monstrous winged vampire dead in a crater nearby.

“You drew this when you were five. It’s your trip to the moon.”

“I…I drew this?”

He remembered then the fear he’d felt at hearing legends of vampires living on the moon. But now…

“Let’s save the talk of old times for later,” said Gergiev. “For now, we must take a photograph! Let us commemorate this moment!”

Gergiev called the VIPs over. Lev felt trapped as he stood between distinguished political figures, facing the camera. The photographer told him he looked stiff, but Lev laughed it off, saying that he was just nervous. He put on this fake smile so often now that he wondered if he could ever go back to the face he once knew.

***

With Lev’s official report finished, the victory parade into Sangrad began. Lev walked with his parents to the parking area in front of the airport, and the crowd followed them, still clamoring and yelling his name. He’d never seen his parents so nervous as they awkwardly waved at the passionate spectators.

This was nothing compared to what awaited them in Sangrad. When Lev imagined the commotion and throngs of people, he let out a deep sigh. He wasn’t even aware he’d done it until his mother, her face still damp from crying, leaned over and whispered in his ear.

“Did something happen?”

“Hm?”

“You look so sad, Lev.”

Lev couldn’t bring himself to tell her it was Irina, so he lied. “This schedule they’ve got me on is incredibly tiring.”

His father wrapped an arm around him, pulling him in so their cheeks touched. There was a hint of zhizni on the man’s breath, and his face was coarse with stubble.

“Are you hiding something, son?”

“No, really, it’s nothing.”

Lev’s father chuckled with a hint of sadness at his son’s cold, blunt response. “Aha. So, it’s the nation, is it? Well, if you can’t speak, you don’t have to.”

Lev wanted to tell them how happy he was to be a cosmonaut, but he couldn’t. Was this what Korovin had meant when he talked about being “prepared”? Lev waved his father off with another fake smile, but the man leaned in and spoke into his ear.

“Your mother and I,” he said in a low voice, “were born forty-five years ago, the year our nation was founded. We’ve been through oppression and war, and we’ve lost friends and family to them. We’ve seen people treated in some of the worst ways. We’ve seen lies become truth, and truth become lies. We’ve seen inconvenient creases ironed out. That’s how our…magnificent nation was built.”

Those words echoed Lev’s experiences too. It pained him to remember them.

His father looked out at the crowd. “Why do you think these people look at you with such hope?” he asked.

“Hope?”

Because I’m a cosmonaut?

Lev was about to speak the thought when his father slapped his back. “If you ask me, by flying all the way into space, you showed them that you’re not chained to this nation.”

“Father…”

“You go and you live in the new world. Show them all that they can too.”

In that moment, looking into the indigo eyes he’d inherited from his father, Lev felt like he’d been entrusted with the future.

***

When he reached the parking lot, he parted from his parents and was ushered into a car with Gergiev. The vehicle was a long convertible decorated with gorgeous roses.

“Come on! Let’s do this!”

Boisterous and excited, Gergiev parroted the very words Lev had spoken at the moment of his launch. Fireworks fired into the sky as the car followed a motorcade of motorcycles. The parade of fifty vehicles rumbled along slowly, heading for the city square some five kilometers away. Helicopters dropped flyers from above, and the brass band blared the air force anthem. People waved flags by the side of the road and even gathered on nearby rooftops.

“Glory to our space hero!” they shouted. “Glory to Lev Leps!”

Lev and Gergiev waved with both hands in response to the calls of the people. As the line of cars finally neared the city square, they passed in front of the Military Institute of Medical Science. People clustered together in large groups, and patients crowded the windows of the building. Lev found himself searching for Irina among them. He felt it should be her in this car, not him, yet she was nowhere to be seen.

The words Lyudmila had spoken just yesterday passed through his mind. She’s dead.

His head swirled with anxiety, and for a moment, all the sound around him cut out. Melancholy draped across his face. When Gergiev noticed Lev’s hand falter mid-wave, he gave Lev a gentle kick.

“Overwhelmed by the crowds?” he asked. The smile on his face belied the cold look in his eyes.

“My apologies,” Lev said.

He put his smiling mask back on, his cheeks twitching as he did so.

***

At 3:15 p.m., the parade finally arrived at the Neglin, an ocean of people surrounding it. The Neglin’s walls were decorated with all the state emblems that comprised the Zirnitra Union; Irina’s hometown of Lilitto occupied a tiny space in the corner.

“Finally! Here we are!”

Lev followed Gergiev out of the car as their security detail ran toward them. Guards lined the path to the city square, and iron fences on either side strained under the pressure of the crowds. As news spread that Lev had arrived, the mob erupted into shouts and cries, transforming into an amorphous mass of noise. Lev took a deep breath. Here he was, just moments away from facing the two hundred thousand people who wanted to see and hear him.

“Comrade Lev Leps! This way!”

Gergiev marched onward, and Lev trailed behind, waving to the crowd. Voices flew at him, powerful with passion. The moment he set foot in the city square, they burst into cheers.

“Lev Leps! Lev Leps! Lev Leps!”

The hair on Lev’s arms stood on end at the storm of praise and admiration. It was the sound of two hundred thousand pairs of feet stomping in excitement, shaking the earth with their passionate enthusiasm. The air was thick with the unusual electricity of the crowd, and Lev found it difficult to breathe. He was completely and utterly lost for words.

As he made his way toward the mausoleum, shaken by this terrifying welcome, Lev noticed a few familiar faces in the front row: Mikhail, Roza, and the rest of the Mechta Shest. They were attending as ordinary soldiers, and they waved at him along with the crowd. Lev wanted to go shake their hands, but he couldn’t afford to give away their identities, so he simply waved back and passed them.

He walked by the special seating area next to the mausoleum and up the twelve-meter staircase that led to the speaker’s platform. Members of the central committee, politicians, and other VIPs crowded the stage, all dressed in formal wear with medals shining on their chests. He and Gergiev stood among them.

Lev looked across the city square at the sea of spectators—at all two hundred thousand pairs of eyes. His knees quivered. Not even in his wildest dreams had he ever imagined anything like this, and he gazed upon the crowd as he waved, overwhelmed.

Huge images of Lev hung from the walls of the department store opposite the square. They made him dizzy. When he spotted the Military Institute of Medical Science behind the store, memories of Irina’s return and celebration assailed him. They’d done little more than gather in the employee cafeteria and share a meal—just Irina, Lev, and a handful of important staff. It hadn’t even been a celebration for Irina but of the Nosferatu Project’s success and their own efforts.

How can you even compare the two?

As Lev reflected on those old memories, a leading member of the central committee announced the official start of the ceremony.

“We will now begin the victory celebration for Comrade Lev Leps, history’s first cosmonaut!” he shouted. Cries and applause almost drowned out his voice entirely. “And now, a few words from the Zirnitra Union’s hero himself!”

The crowd exploded like a volcano of excitement.

“Lev! Lev! Lev!”

Lev rose to his feet, dazed by the sheer power of the crowd. He couldn’t help feeling like it was Irina’s name they should call, but not one person did, because she wasn’t human. She was a national secret, a test subject that flew through space and was treated no better than Maly the dog.

The cameras broadcasting the live event locked on to Lev. Gergiev motioned with his jaw for Lev to give his speech. There was no escape. He had to do it.

“Lev! Lev! Lev!”

“Why do you think these people look at you with such hope?”

No, he told himself. No matter who they look at and why, I can only play my role. I am history’s first cosmonaut, the hero Lev Leps.

Resigning himself to that decision, Lev stood before the microphone. Here he was, about to speak to a crowd of two hundred thousand. Two hundred million people around the country awaited his voice. Three billion people across the world. He was about to address everyone, to commemorate a historical first, an event that had never come before and would never come again.

Lev raised his hands to quiet the crowd. He took a deep breath, filled his body with energy, and began his speech praising the Zirnitra Union.

“My beloved comrades! My countrymen! Fyodor Gergiev, and our admirable leaders!”

The crowd hushed and held its breath, waiting for Lev’s next words.

“I am but an ordinary human who was assigned the great honor and duty of humanity’s first spaceflight. For that responsibility, for that chance, I am eternally grateful!”

Cheers broke out again, and the people seated by the mausoleum offered satisfied applause.

Lev’s heart felt empty as he went on. “To the scientists, engineers, and laborers who built the spaceship—I never once doubted that we would succeed in our mission!”

He desperately wanted to say Korovin’s name, but he couldn’t.

“To Cosmonaut #2 and Cosmonaut #3, and all the people who shed blood, sweat, and tears to prepare alongside me—I believe, without a doubt, that you too will fly to space as I have!”

How did Mikhail and Roza feel about being referred to as numbers? For now, they were no more than ordinary soldiers, so he couldn’t even look at them as he spoke. Nonetheless, Lev pushed on with Lyudmila’s speech.

“To Fyodor Gergiev! You were the first one there for me mere moments after launch, the first to congratulate me, and the first to embrace me to celebrate my safe return home!”

Gergiev’s smile was as bright as a sunflower, and he nodded with great satisfaction.

It was all a lie, yet this was the hero the nation wanted. They didn’t want Lev’s emotions getting in the way. Everything was for the motherland. He went on reading praise for the Supreme Leader and admiration for the nation. The crowd whooped and hollered, applauding every word. In Lev’s heart, however, he felt sick. He couldn’t say a single word to the people he was truly grateful for. Irina, the person most deserving of praise, wasn’t even here.

Lev held it all down. His fingernails dug into his palms as his hands balled into fists.

“I am certain that the spaceships of our motherland will fly ever farther into space!”

He glanced at the Military Institute of Medical Science.

If Irina can hear this… If she can hear the words I’m saying… How do they make her feel?

Surely she’d be enraged or stunned into silence. But Lev’s mouth went on moving, spitting out the speech he had taken time to memorize.

“To all of you who supported me through this, from the bottom of my heart, thank you!”

A tongue of honey—so sweet it made Lev want to vomit. The wind ruffled the picture of him hanging from the department store; its face distorted before his eyes. It was as if the image were laughing at him.

Who even are you? it seemed to say.

But he was so close to finishing his speech. There were only three lines left.

Glory to the Zirnitra Union!

Glory to the citizens of our marvelous republic!

And glory to the central committee and its leader, Fyodor Gergiev!

If he could just finish, his speech would be over, and Gergiev would speak next. The cosmonaut Lev Leps would be recognized worldwide for his feat, and the darkness of history would bury the work of Irina Luminesk.

Can I let that happen?

Lev had made it this far, but now the thought troubled him once more. Could he use Irina as a stepping-stone to space? Use her words as his own? Call himself history’s first and let her fade into the darkness?

Could he forgive himself?

He was troubled and lost, and he felt desperation in his voice as he shouted.

“Glory to the Zirnitra Union!”

He would live this lie for the rest of his life, pretending to be history’s first cosmonaut.

Can I really let that happen?

“Glory to the citizens of our marvelous republic!”

It’s all over with just one more line. But do I really want to let this happen?

“And…!”

I’ll be killing her. She’ll die, and nobody will ever know who she was.

“And…!”

The words caught in Lev’s throat. He dropped into silence. His mouth closed, and murmurs rippled through the audience when they felt a change in the air. Gergiev stared at him, searching his face for an answer.

Come now, cosmonaut, his gaze said. Be our hero.

“Ngh!”

Lev looked down, feeling the pressure of two hundred thousand sets of eyes and the Supreme Leader’s heavy gaze. Then he noticed the sun shining off something on the ground by his feet.

“Huh?!”

It was a copper coin minted in the year 1943.

“It’s the fare…to the moon…” he whispered, kneeling and picking up the coin.

A tremor ran through the crowd. They had no idea what Lev was doing, crouching by the pulpit. Even those around him couldn’t get close enough to find out for themselves.

Lev stood and put a fist to his chest, the coin wrapped in his hand. With the eyes of the entire crowd locked on him at the platform, he asked himself a question.

When I wished that Irina would one day make it to the moon, was I lying to myself?

But he knew his feelings had been true. He still remembered December 12—specifically, the moment before launch, when he’d held on to Irina’s necklace for safekeeping. He remembered what he said to her.

“…you can take it yourself when you go to the moon.”

He hadn’t said it to placate her or cheer her up. He’d said it because he believed it. In that one unguarded moment, he’d known from Irina’s face that she truly trusted him. Yet here he was, trying to erase her spaceflight from history. He was betraying the feelings she’d entrusted him with.

Irina.

He wondered if she was there in the hospital, listening to him. His heart reached out to her, searching for her.

You lied to me out of kindness, and because of that, I am a cosmonaut. My lies are horrendous, though. Will I use them to erase you?

“No…”

Lev glared at the posters of himself hanging from the department store—at the smiling cosmonaut.

You have no right to call yourself a hero. No right to call yourself history’s first. You’re lying to the world to hide the truth.

His fist pushed harder against his chest. What was in his heart? What were his true feelings?

In truth, he didn’t need to wonder. He had written them last night as he listened to “The New World.” He had torn those words up and thrown them away, considering them terrorism. Speaking them would guarantee that Cosmonaut Lev Leps would soon die in an “accident.” In accordance with the nation’s rules, he would be disposed of in secret.

But his father’s words rang in his head.

“By flying all the way into space, you showed them that you’re not chained to this nation,” he’d said. “You go and you live in the new world.”

He was right.

Irina, you risked your life to fly through space. This time, I will risk mine to ensure your name is never forgotten. I came back from space—from the new world—to give our world a message.

Lev placed the coin in his jacket pocket and smiled bashfully. He moved closer to the microphone once more.

“My apologies,” he said. “I finally remembered what I had to say.”

He laughed, and the crowd laughed with him. Nobody had any idea what hid behind that casual grin. But Lyudmila saw the change in Lev and moved quickly to Gergiev, whispering something in his ear. The Supreme Leader’s brow furrowed, and he nodded, as if coming to an important decision.

Lev glanced at Lyudmila. If you’re going to shoot me live, in front of the whole world, then do your worst.

Turning back to the crowd, he lifted both arms wide and spoke once more.

“People of my beloved nation. Watchers and listeners around the world. I have one correction to make.” Lev took a breath and then went on in a calm, collected voice. “I am humanity’s first cosmonaut, yes, but I am not history’s first cosmonaut.”

A few reporters looked at one another. “Susnin?” they asked.

VIPs shuffled in their seats, frowning.

Come on, let’s do this! Time to fire a bullet of truth into this lie-covered country.

Was it revolution or terrorism? That was for the people of the future to decide.

Lev took another deep breath, and then he shouted loud enough for his words to resound around the world.

“The first to fly through space was not me! It was Irina Luminesk, a seventeen-year-old girl! And she’s not human, she’s a Nosferatu!”

Confused commotion rose in the crowd. Gergiev’s cheek twitched, and he glowered at the flustered leaders behind him, ordering them to calm down with a gesture of his hand. As they glared daggers at Lev, like they wanted to murder him where he stood, Lyudmila shot them a look that said she had things under control. The vice-president of the Delivery Crew could not make a move in front of three billion people, so he sat clenching his teeth.

Feeling the hate and helplessness behind his back told Lev he had made the right move. If they interrupted his speech here, it would only cause an uproar. He could not be stopped. They could not kill him here, no matter what he said.

Lev raised his voice and went on even more fervently. “Irina Luminesk flew into space to confirm the safety of our rockets and the potential dangers of zero gravity! Thanks to her, I was able to make my own flight safely! I stand here before you because of Irina Luminesk! I wish she could be here, but she’s weak to sunlight. I imagine she’s hiding somewhere.”

The crowd was stunned. Lev looked out at all the people and went on.

“On that note, do you hate vampires? Do you despise the so-called cursed species? To be honest, I too feared the Nosferatu! The stories my parents told me scared me so bad, I wet the bed more times than I can count! So, when I first met Irina Luminesk, I shook with terror! I thought she would bite me and kill me! But I was a fool! Everything we’ve been told about them is a lie!”

Lev thrust his fist into the air.

“Irina Luminesk is no different from my friends or family! She’s the same as you and me—she looked up at the stars, and she dreamed of space! She’s just an adorable young lady! She likes lemon seltzer, she gets drunk off a single sip of zhizni, and she makes a delicious aspic! She conquered her fear of heights, she enjoys jazz and ice skating, and you should have heard her the first time she ever watched a movie! Irina Luminesk lives here on our planet, with me, with you—she’s one of us!”

There was so much to love about Irina, so little to hate. He wanted them all to know about her, to recognize the existence of the girl who’d lost her parents, survived on her own, and risked her life to fly to the stars.

“To the people of my beloved nation, to watchers and listeners around the world! I beg you! Please, celebrate Irina Luminesk’s success! And remember that she is my comrade!” Lev looked at the sky and saluted. “Thank you for listening! Here ends the speech of the second cosmonaut, Lev Leps!”

Silent bewilderment reigned over all. There was not a single cry of celebration nor one handclap of applause. For the two hundred thousand people gathered in the city square, Lev’s words were perhaps not the honey they’d hoped for but poison instead.

Still, if his message got through to even one person out there in the world, Lev would be satisfied. He felt as though his duty as a cosmonaut was finally over. He let his hand fall to his side and stepped back from the platform.

At that moment, he heard a pair of quiet claps from the

special viewing area by the stage. Lev whirled around to see the source—his parents.

“Father… Mother…”

Applause began to spread through the crowd in the square. Mikhail, Roza, and all his comrades who wanted to see space as badly as he did raised their hands up to the sky and clapped.

“Guys…” Emotion swelled in Lev’s chest, bringing him close to tears.

“Lev!”

When he heard the voice call him, he knew it immediately. Shocked, he turned and saw a girl step out from the shadow of a model rocket, shoving her way through the crowd. Around her neck, a blue stone glittered in the light.

“Irina?!”

At the sound of Lev blurting her name, the people around Irina erupted into cries of surprise.

Scarlet Eyes
• oчи алый •

“LEV!” Irina ran toward the fence, jostling other onlookers. “Get out of my way!”

After escaping the hospital with Anya’s help, the vampire girl had safely slipped unnoticed into the crowd. During Lev’s speech praising the nation, heartache and despair had overwhelmed her. But then, the end of his speech suddenly whisked her deep anguish away.

Lev had called himself the second cosmonaut, and he’d shared the truth. From what she saw of the reaction onstage, the revelation was completely unexpected. Lev hadn’t been allowed to share his knowledge of the Nosferatu project publicly; it was strictly confidential. Yet he faced the whole world as his audience and told them, “I beg you! Please, celebrate Irina Luminesk’s success!”

Irina knew she should hide, but she was propelled forward. She pushed through the crowd, sweating in the heat of the sun. With all the energy her body had left, she cried out in a voice that seemed crackly and dry.

“Lev!”

She wanted to be with him. She ran with only that in mind. As she put her hands on the fence to climb over, a security guard darted over to her.

“Stop!”

As she tried to wrest free of the guard, he grabbed her jacket hem.

“Let me go!”

Irina shrugged out of the jacket, but that didn’t stop the guard. People nearby backed away and eyed her with suspicion. Her back was against the fence now. She had nowhere left to run.

“Rina!”

Anya exploded out of the crowd and slammed into the security guard, who flipped through the air and collapsed onto the ground.

“Anya?!”

Lying on the ground, Anya pointed at the mausoleum. “Go!”

“Thank you!”

Irina leaped over the fence, landing on the path to the mausoleum. She took off, her eyes fixed on Lev. A nearby guard tried to stop her, but she twisted out of reach, her knees scraping the ground as she deftly moved out of the way.

You’ll never catch me. Not until I get to Lev!

Her black hair waved in the wind, revealing the pointy ears underneath. Blood dripped from her knee. The crowd watched her with a mixture of fear, curiosity, and contempt. She felt all of it but continued her mad dash, not giving the crowd a second glance. It was the fastest she’d run since the day she raced against Lev.

The abruptness of it all flustered the security guards. Irina slipped past them before they could stop her and kept running. Her dress stuck to her body, her skin sweaty and red, burning as it itched under the sunlight. Still, she refused to take her eyes off Lev. She felt the things she wanted to say to him surge through her body.

“Lev!”

At last, she reached the mausoleum and ran up the platform steps, exhausted.

“Irina!”

Lev ran down from the platform, and they met at the landing near the middle of the stairs.

Irina’s shoulders heaved with each breath. Now that Lev was in front of her, she didn’t know what to say. There was too much in her head. The crowd’s growing uproar wrapped around her, weighing her down. From the platform, Gergiev looked at them, his face as blank as a statue’s.

“Lev, I…” Irina faltered, unable to find the words. She looked at Lev with tears in her eyes.

He smiled at her. “First things first. Let’s introduce you to everyone.”

Lev found a security guard with a loudspeaker and swiped it from his hands.

“I’ll give it back!” he said, putting the loudspeaker to his lips and addressing the crowd. “This is Irina Luminesk! She’s history’s first cosmonaut!”

There was a sprinkling of applause throughout the crowd, but most people were confused and unsure how to react. They looked at each other, puzzled. Irina wasn’t certain what to do either. Her eyes darted around, and her face went red.

“Go on, Irina. Say hello,” Lev told her.

“Uh…”

“You’re a cosmonaut. You have to say a few words.”

Continuing to smile, Lev put the loudspeaker in Irina’s hands. She was still unsure what to say, standing there looking out at two hundred thousand people, all their eyes on her.

“Er…”

Her heart thrummed like it would leap from her throat, and her breath hitched. As fear crept up on her, her teeth chattered and a shudder ran through her body.

What am I supposed to do?

She felt frozen solid. Lev put a gentle hand on her back.

“Be proud of yourself,” he said. “What you accomplished was amazing. Something to take pride in.”

“I… Okay.”

“If anyone tries anything, I’ll be right here to protect you.”

He patted her back, and she felt the message that came with it. Don’t be afraid. You didn’t do anything wrong.

Irina was here now, so she had to speak. She gathered her courage and looked out at the crowd again, waiting for jeers and boos. However, although there was still a bit of fuss, everyone simply looked at her with curiosity and uncertainty.

Knowing she had to say something, Irina brought the loudspeaker to her lips.

“I am Irina Luminesk,” she said timidly, cold sweat on her forehead and back. Her mind felt completely blank. “The Earth, from space… It’s so, so beautiful, and…”

Her thoughts wouldn’t settle, and that made her tongue-tied.

“I always wanted to go to space.” Her voice quivered, and she felt tears well up from the bottom of her heart. “I wanted to go before any human got there… That’s what I thought. That’s how I lived… But I…”

Before she could finish, a heckling voice fired out of the crowd.

“Die, you damned vampire!”

Irina froze, her heart shrinking. She looked down at her feet as fear gripped her once more, but Lev put a reassuring hand on her back.

“When you saw the moon, you felt something, right?” he prompted.

“Huh?”

“You wanted to say something when we were in that snowstorm. You know, after you came back. Tell them what you felt.”

She had wanted to tell Lev about a new dream. Having hated humans for so long, it was hard to believe the dream was hers. And now, she was about to share it with the whole world.

Irina looked up at the crowd slowly and timidly, and she remembered. She remembered standing next to Lev, just like this, surrounded by humans.

“I’m Irina Luminesk. I hate humans. Don’t talk to me. That’s all.”

Even then, after she’d said such a horrible thing to people she didn’t even know, he’d continued to protect her. He was doing the same thing now, standing by her side. That thought conquered the fear in her heart.

“I can do it, Lev…”

Irina raised her head and looked out at the crowd through her scarlet irises. She felt the two hundred thousand sets of eyes on her little body. But she stood her ground through her trembling feet, gripping the loudspeaker in shaky hands.

Coda:
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Indigo Eyes
• oчи индиго •

THOUGH THE CELEBRATORY FESTIVAL had gone slightly off the rails, Gergiev and the Minister of Foreign Affairs told reporters worldwide that everything went according to schedule and that the speeches had proceeded as directed.

Lev and Irina lingered in the city square for hours, waving at the people who flooded in to see them. The citizens looked up at Irina under the shade of her umbrella with more curiosity than fear or hatred. This girl who they couldn’t quite believe was a cosmonaut, let alone a vampire, entranced and intrigued them. Irina was clearly embarrassed, unaccustomed to being looked at in such a way.

As the sun set, the crowds began to disperse, and Lev and Irina found themselves surrounded by security guards. They were then taken straight to the grand palace of the Neglin, away from prying eyes, without even a moment to get changed.

***

On the top floor of the grand palace was a lavish meeting room. Lev and Irina sat opposite Lyudmila, a beautiful marble table between them. Gorgeous chandeliers glittered above the table. The security guards had been sent outside, so the three were entirely alone. There was tea and strawberry varenye in front of each of them, but Lyudmila made no move to reach for either.

“Well, the two of you are indeed a handful. But your little gamble was a tremendous success, Lev. If anyone tries to destroy either of you, the world will riot. I can see the headlines now. ‘Young Cosmonauts Erased for Revealing National Secrets.’”

Lyudmila laughed. Her tone was light and jovial. She didn’t chastise Lev at all for abandoning the celebration’s detailed schedule—in fact, she seemed to like it. Still, Lev’s heart refused to settle. It was far too strange to him that Gergiev had been so quick to accept Irina.

“Comrade Gergiev’s speech made it sound like he knew what I was going to do all along,” he said.

“Because he did,” Lyudmila replied, eating her varenye.

“Huh?”

“I saw it in one of your draft speeches. You tried to erase it, but I could still read the words Irina Luminesk.”

Lev couldn’t believe his ears.

Lyudmila sipped her bitter tea and went on. “I thought about intimidating you again, but then you might’ve scrapped the speech and only said the truth. So, I prepared two speeches for Comrade Gergiev. We decided that, if you played the role of the good little hero and didn’t mention Lycoris, we’d go with Plan Lozh. And, if you blew the whistle on the Nosferatu Project, we’d go with Plan Istina.”

The two plans were codenamed “lie” and “truth,” respectively.

Lyudmila then revealed how they’d acted on Plan Istina. When Lev began exposing the truth, even Gergiev was initially flustered. But when Lyudmila reminded the Supreme Leader that it was all within the realm of expected risk, and slipped him a note reminding him of Plan Istina, he sat back and waited for Irina’s speech to end.

Though many Union citizens hated vampires, the populace was far more terrified of purges, waves and waves of which they’d watched under the former government. They also wanted to see the Union best the United Kingdom. Since the speech put the citizens’ fears on one side, and Irina—as well as their hopes—on the other, it was all too clear which the people would choose. Gergiev understood that there was some risk in showing support for the Nosferatu, but it was also a chance to position himself as a revolutionary and a hero.

Lev’s and Irina’s mouths hung open in shock as Lyudmila put a speech in front of them.

“This was the speech for Plan Lozh, which we didn’t use,” she said.

It focused on praising Lev and on pride for the nation. Not a word touched on the topic of Irina, and there was no criticism of the Delivery Crew or United Kingdom.

Lev ground his teeth at the unveiling of the truth. He felt like he’d been used. Irina sat in silence, a frown on her face.

Lyudmila turned to Irina, appraising her. “Aren’t you glad Lev did what he did? If he hadn’t, you’d be in the hospital right now. They would have slipped you poison and cut off your head with whatever was at hand.” Irina glared at her, but Lyudmila was unperturbed. “I must admit, we didn’t expect you to escape the hospital and get all the way to the stage. But it did make for a much more exciting show, and you escaped the Delivery Crew.”

Lyudmila’s tinkling laughter grated on Irina’s ears. “Anya had better be safe!” she growled.

“Relax. She’ll return to the air force biomedical laboratory to work under Mozhaysky again. We’re not like the old-fashioned regime, purging and erasing anyone and everyone with a rebellious streak; we value our skilled individuals.”

Despite her words, Lyudmila was once again talking about people as objects—tools to be used.

“Oh, that reminds me,” she continued. “Did you hear that Comrade Gergiev was threatened by none other than the Chief?”

Lev’s eyes opened wide. “The Chief threatened him…?”

“He put it in a letter. ‘If you kill Irina Luminesk, you kill my life’s work,’ he wrote.”

Lev’s breath caught in his throat. Korovin had told him he’d pressured Gergiev, but Lev never imagined the man would go so far. The top levels of the nation were far more twisted than he had imagined. Irina put a hand to her mouth in shock; Korovin’s feelings overwhelmed her.

Lyudmila merely shrugged, seeming entirely disinterested. “Everyone seems to forget the rule about handling the test subject as an object,” she muttered.

According to Lyudmila, Gergiev was actually pleased with Plan Istina’s results. Lev’s decision to reveal Irina to the world allowed him to ignore Korovin’s threat and level harsh words at both the previous government and the United Kingdom. Gergiev was happier now than if they’d gone with Plan Lozh.

Still, one particular word rang suspiciously in Lev’s mind.

Pleased with the “results”? Was this what Lyudmila wanted all along?

When he thought back to what had happened the previous night, his suspicions grew.

He posed a question to Lyudmila. “You once told me that you wanted a cosmonaut who was a revolutionary. Someone to lead people into the new world.”

“That I did.”

“Today, was I… Did I do exactly what you wanted?”

“Hm?”

Lev noticed the slightest twitch in Lyudmila’s cheek.

“You knew that I wrote Irina’s name in my draft speech, but you still told me she died. You pointed a gun at me. You pushed me into a corner and made me think that if I did nothing, Irina would simply vanish into the darkness. Then you played that music to heighten those feelings, and you left me on my own.”

Lyudmila chuckled. “Thinking a little too hard, aren’t you? Do you really think I’d be so cruel?” She grinned, her eyes flashing with defiance.

So he was right. Lev’s rage bubbled to the surface. He took the Lozh speech and crushed it in his hand, then slowly rose to his feet. He glared at Lyudmila, who sat with her head resting on her hands.

“I forgot to say one thing in my own speech,” he told her.

“And what’s that?”

“Irina and I—we’re not damned pawns in your game of revolution!”

He slammed the Lozh speech back on the table, the anger in his voice clear.

Lyudmila was taken aback for a brief moment, but then she stood with a bold smile. “Hmph. That’s the spirit. I’d expect nothing less from the one leading us into the new world.”

“Whatever it is you’re scheming, Lev and I are going to the moon,” Irina cut in.

She picked up her tea gracefully and glared at Lyudmila as if the woman were an underling.

“Well, in any case, you’d best be careful.” Lyudmila pointed her finger like a gun at Irina and Lev and mock-fired at them both. “The committee didn’t approve that speech, so more than a few people aren’t happy with how things turned out.”

Lev knew that was no mere threat. He’d felt murderous stares pierce him at the conclusion of his speech. Veins had bulged from the deputy prime minister’s forehead, while the director of the Delivery Crew sent his rage through his cane, knocking it on the platform floor repeatedly. Somewhere out there, Korovin’s archrival, Graudyn, would be utterly seething.

Lyudmila took the Lozh speech from the table and shot Lev and Irina a sharp sidelong glance. “Let’s hope your celebratory dinner this evening doesn’t turn into a last supper.”

With that, she turned on her heel and left. The air seemed to lighten with her gone; Lev and Irina let out sighs of relief. Their synchronous timing caught them by surprise, and they looked at each other.

“It’s been a long time,” Irina said.

“Yeah. I think the last time I saw you was the day before you were sent to the hospital…”

It had been the middle of winter back then, when it was still so very cold. More than the movie and meal they’d shared, Lev recalled his desire to have his blood sucked, and the feelings simmering in his heart as he’d clutched Irina tight in his arms. The memories embarrassed him, and he looked away. Irina might have been thinking the same thing—her face went red, and she glanced down at her hands.

Lev took his cup of tea and sat diagonally from Irina. He sipped the lukewarm brew and watched her out of the corner of his eye. She was tasting the strawberry varenye with some curiosity, and perhaps because of her metropolitan dress, she struck him as mature.

Irina seemed to feel his gaze on her, and she glanced at him. “So, in your speech, when you talked about me… That wasn’t planned?”

“Nope.”

“Then wouldn’t you have been better off saying nothing? Why did you say all that?”

Lev wasn’t sure how to answer. He hadn’t imagined Irina being the one asking him that question, and he was embarrassed to think back on it. Still, he held himself together and shrugged it off.

“I had a feeling that, if I didn’t say something, you’d bite me.”

“Uh-huh…” Irina’s gaze bored into him.

“Wh-what is it now?”

“Nothing. Just thinking about how far you’ve come since wetting the bed from vampire nightmares.”

“Well, what about you? Where’d you get the idea to just jump out from behind a model rocket like that?”

Lev’s question caught Irina off guard. Her cheeks flushed red, her eyes flicking everywhere but his, and she whipped her face away from him.

“My escape route just happened to end where you were giving your speech. But, because of you, I was caught anyway.”

Her snappy, thorny response relieved Lev immensely. That was the Irina he knew best.

“Ah, I see,” he said, putting a hand in his pocket and taking out the 1943 copper coin he’d picked off the platform. “Here, you can have this. Think of it as a good-luck charm to help you get to the moon.”

“Oh, this is the year I was born. What a coincidence.”

Lev knew it was anything but coincidence, but he didn’t think it needed explaining. Irina put the coin and her lunny kamen side by side, and her eyes wavered like she was a lost puppy.

“Do you think, um… Do you think I’ll…be able to go to space again someday?”

Although Lev yearned to nod and tell her so, he didn’t want to give Irina false hope. “Whatever happens after today, your guess is as good as mine. But for a little while, at least, we’ll be going on a world tour.”

“Oh…” Irina’s face was etched with anxiety.

What would the world think of them? How would people look at history’s first cosmonauts? How would they feel about the speeches that rocked the world?

“I want to go to the moon with Lev!”

Irina’s voice had moved something in Lev’s heart.

“The moon, huh?”

He opened the window and walked onto the balcony. The full moon shone brightly in the middle of the sky. Irina came out with her lunny kamen in one hand and her new coin in the other, standing by his side.

Lev wanted to hear Irina’s poem once more—the poem of the moon. “How does it go again?” he asked. “Sinus Iridum…? Is that how it starts?”

Irina nodded. She looked up at the moon, whispering as if to a beloved friend.

“Lacus Somniorum…”

Her fangs, peeking from her mouth, seemed unsuited to her cute lips.

“Palus Somni…”

Irina wove the words of the old poem with great care, one by one.

“Oceanus Procellarum…”

Her dark black hair was carried on the wind, revealing her pointed ears.

“Mare Vaporum…”

Irina held her necklace and copper coin up to the moon. Pure blue light shone in the clear crystal, and the moonlight reflecting off the coin cast it in a shade of indigo. A shooting star trailed across the sky, as if hanging from the moon. Deep scarlet wrapped Irina’s crimson eyes.

“Will we get there someday?” she murmured.

Now a cosmonaut, Irina put her hands together and stared at the moon. She entrusted it with her fleeting prayer, if ever so quietly. A prayer for the two of them.

Lev looked at Irina beside him, her eyes closed, and wondered, Will the day come when the two of us stand on the moon? Perhaps that was only a dream as sweet as honey. They could call it a manned spaceflight, but the truth was they’d only made it as high as a hundred kilometers. The moon was more than thirty-eight hundred thousand kilometers away.

Even assuming they could get there, could they make it back to Earth? Was the world of the moon just the stuff of science fiction movies?

No. They had already achieved what was once thought impossible. Korovin, the Mechta Shest, Irina—they all dreamed of space. There was nothing to fear. All they had to do was keep following the path of the stars into the new age.

Now a cosmonaut, Lev looked at the moon floating brilliantly in the sky above. His indigo eyes shone along with it.

“We’ll get there, Irina. I promise.”

Second Movement:
The Silver-Haired Vampire

APRIL 18, 1961. The United Kingdom of Arnack. The sun shone over vast cotton fields surrounded by hills. Bart Fifield chowed down on his hamburger lunch alongside his coworkers. He was a new arrival, having only started at ANSA this month. Since Bart was still training, they hadn’t yet decided which department he’d be working in.

Bart had arrived just in time for what was called the Leps-Luminesk Shock, which had sent the UK into an uproar. Not only was the United Kingdom beaten to a manned space launch, it was also labeled “outdated” and “undeveloped.” That was yet another humiliation on top of the Parusnyĭ Shock, and it stained the UK’s dignity as one of the great world powers.

The Hermes Seven had scheduled their own manned space launch for May. Bart’s brother, Aaron, was supposed to be the first person and first UK citizen in space. Now the Zirnitra Union had upstaged the feat. Bart felt the pain of having been beaten to the punch and losing the race to a manned space launch, but he was already looking ahead at future chances to fight back.

“There’s the moon, Mars, Mercury… Space goes on for eternity, after all!”

Lev and Irina were around the same age as Bart, and it was inspiring to see them achieve such a momentous feat. Even to Bart’s coworkers, they were heroes worthy of respect.

“That Irina is so cute.”

“Yeah, but she’s a pureblood Nosferatu. Kind of scary, no?”

Lev and Irina were all anyone had talked about the past few days. People were gabbing back and forth about all sorts of stuff. Bart wanted to meet Lev and Irina, but he was acutely aware of how bad he was at talking to people. He was also afraid that, even if he got the opportunity, he’d be so nervous he wouldn’t be able to speak. Well, if anyone got the chance to meet them, it would be his famous brother, not some lowly new recruit. Still, Bart was an imaginative sort, and he daydreamed of shaking hands with Lev.

“…and they say the government is looking into whether a moon landing is possible.”

The words cut into Bart’s reverie and made his heart jump. “Really?!”

“Yeah, all the higher-ups are making a hubbub about it. They’ll put a development team together so long as they get the budget, apparently. They’re actively recruiting the best and the brightest from all around, even dhampirs.”

“Dhampirs too…”

One reason the UK had been lagging behind at second place in the space race was that dhampirs had been expelled from its leading teams. However, with the Zirnitra Union publicly recognizing the achievements of vampire Irina Luminesk, ANSA had quickly pivoted its own stance on dhampirs to harmonious and friendly relations.

Bart had no bigoted feelings whatsoever toward the dhampir, but the town in which he lived was clearly segregated. Even within ANSA, facilities used by dhampirs were separate. Some of Bart’s coworkers couldn’t stand the sight of them, viewing them as an extension of the cursed species. But with relations slowly mending, and talented dhampir entering development teams, the UK was looking at a great leap in technological innovation.

“Great!” Bart exclaimed. “Let’s get to work putting people on the moon.”

However, Bart’s coworkers didn’t share his enthusiasm.

“Well, let’s just hope we can even keep working,” said one, pointing to the southern skies. “It’s dangerous, what with the failed airstrikes and ground strategies.”

The day after the Zirnitra Union’s victory celebration, the UK had tried to put down a revolutionary regime in a neighboring country by way of airstrikes. Even now, three days later, gunfire and missiles flew back and forth across the sea.

“Can’t we all just get along?” Bart muttered.

As soon as he spoke, his coworkers whipped their heads skyward. Just as quickly, they tripped over each other in a frantic attempt to run.

“Huh?”

Confused, Bart also looked at the sky. A bar-shaped object coated in flame was hurtling their way.

“Whaaat?!”

It’s coming straight for me!

But Bart’s reaction times were poor. He froze in place, unable to move.

Bang! The bar-shaped object collided with Bart’s face, sending juice and hamburger flying everywhere.

“What the…?”

The crushed object was like a little missile, and its smoke trailed into the air.

“Sorry!” someone shouted.

Shocked as he was, Bart managed to turn toward the source of the voice. He found a silver-haired girl running over to him, her white lab coat streaming behind her.

She huffed and puffed to catch her breath. “Are you…okay? No…injuries?”

The girl’s shoulders heaved with each gasp. She was of slender build, and her skin was white as snow. She looked a little older than Bart. He looked up at her face, and in his surprise, he forgot to breathe.

Scarlet eyes, pointed ears, and sharp teeth. The girl was a dhampir.

First the shock of having a missile fired at him, then the appearance of a dhampir. Bart’s heart wouldn’t stop racing.

“Oh no, your clothes… I’m so sorry…”

The girl’s voice yanked him back to reality, and he looked at himself. He was covered in specks of food and drink.

The girl kneeled next to him, looking at his dirty clothes regretfully. “I-I’ll cover the expense…”

It was the first time Bart had ever been so close to a dhampir, let alone spoken to one. He could even smell her shampoo. Usually, Arnack’s humans and dhampirs kept away from each other. People like this girl, who ignored the wall between races, were decidedly rare.

She picked up the bar-shaped object tenderly. “Oh no, my Blue Angel… It’s broken…”

She must have been a researcher, based on her lab coat. She kneeled there, shoulders slumped, and Bart worked up the courage to talk to her.

“Wh-wha… Um, what was the experiment?” he asked.

“Hm?”

The dhampir girl looked suddenly bashful, her fangs flashing from her mouth. Perhaps she was happy to have someone show interest in her work.

“Well, it’s more like a hobby than an experiment. It’s a compact satellite. I made it myself.”

Bart didn’t know it at the time, but as the threat of nuclear war closed in, it was this girl—Kaye Scarlet—he would work with on the moon landing project.

AND WITH THAT, THE CHALLENGE CONTINUED…

Afterword

IN THIS AFTERWORD, I’m going to touch on the contents of this volume (I’ll avoid spoilers), so it’s probably best if you read this last.

As I mentioned in the afterword for the first volume, this story is based on historical events. I’d like to reveal here which parts are based on reality.

First, the call sign “Cedar” (based on the deodar cedar, or Himalayan cedar) is historically accurate. However, in all my research, I couldn’t find out why they used that call sign, so the Chief’s reasons for picking it are my own creation. Furthermore, all the call signs used after Cedar are birds, which makes Cedar even more mysterious. If anyone can shed light on the subject, I’m all ears!

On that note, the famous line “It is I, Seagull!” doesn’t actually express the feeling of flight. Rather, it’s more like a message: “This is Seagull. Come in.” I can’t help feeling that the words would never have become famous if they were “It is I, Cedar!” That just brings images of hay fever to mind…

Then there’s the copper coin scene in the city square. I modeled it after places where tourists throw coins to wish for good fortune. However, it’s unclear who started this and why it’s good fortune people wish for. Considering all that, the concept of paying a fare is fictional. So, if you ever throw coins around sacred places and tell people you’re paying your travel fares, they’re going to be rightly confused.

Regarding Mars and space tours, that was something scholars at the time actually thought about. They were also terrified by the idea that an intelligent species on Mars had launched giant artificial satellites.

As a result of all this, the story of Irina is a mishmash of truth and fiction.

This book wouldn’t have been possible without the help of so many. Tabata-sama, your guidance is always appreciated. It’s like you’re a nocturnal creature yourself, living in the new office building…

KAREI-sama, your cover illustration is so perfect for my background work music that I’m framing it.

And to all you readers, you have my thanks. Your support and sharing of the first book was the fuel powering this spaceship. I hope for your continued support.

By the way, do you know the song “Fly Me to the Moon”? You may know it as the ending theme to a particular anime, but it was a huge hit in the 60s when the Apollo Project began. It’s the first song humanity ever took to the moon. It’s fun to listen to the original version to feel that in it.

Until next time,

KEISUKE MAKINO

From the Author
Keisuke Makino

In addition to light novels, I write for games and TV dramas. Recently, I worked on the writing team for Persona 5. I still haven’t had a chance to try the blini I mentioned in the last volume...

Books by Keisuke Makino

Flick & Break

Flick & Break, Vol. 2

Flick & Break, Vol. 3

Irina: The Vampire Cosmonaut

From the Artist
KAREI

Lately, I’ve been having lots of dreams where I’m floating around in zero gravity. I guess my brain is telling me it feels kind of adrift.

Pixiv: 3410642 Twitter: @flat_fish_