“He must have told you things about me, then. My name, who I am.”
“Hmm, da. He did. Did I do good, prophet? I could have been you, you know. But I proved myself not worthy. At least I believe. You believe that I believe, prophet? I will spill blood, if need be.”
From the depths of his sweatpants pockets Vasily produced a screwdriver and set it upon his neck. I stroked forward, seizing his wrist just as the tip broke the skin. I took the screwdriver out of Vasily’s hand as he observed the tiny spheres of his own blood with childish delight. He poked at them with his finger.
“I need you to tell me everything the god told you about me, Vasily. So I’ll know you are truly an apostle.”
“Oh, prophet,” Vasily said, “you are testing me. I haven’t been told of your origins, because I am too lowly to know. I only have my mission. I will deliver you to Earth. And I will tell you the last words the god asked me to pass on to you.” Vasily grinned, and now his fingers fully unraveled the gauze on his other hand and wrist, displaying a multitude of deep, infected cuts, wounds that would surely cost Vasily his arm.
I decided. Vasily and others like him were the reason Hanu? could never come to Earth. They couldn’t cope with a vastness that was so outside their established knowledge of existence, even if they had seen Space up close. They would project their desperations, fears, and looming insanities onto types of intelligence incomprehensible to them. I had done so too, after all, when I nearly plunged a blade into Hanu? to satisfy my cult of the scientific method, hoped that somewhere within rested an answer to my unrest. I was ashamed.
The thought of hearing Hanu?’s words to Vasily exhausted me and thrilled me at the same time. I took a few breaths to avoid impatience with the ill man.
“The god’s message,” Vasily said. “The prophet must not submit his spirit. He will find happiness in silence, seeking freedom, prayer, and he will know, know more than any other human, or any other… oh, now I am confusing words… the answer is in heaven.”
Vasily looked around with panic, stuck his hands in his pockets, and from the ugly, twisted grimace on his face, I deduced he was looking for another weapon to hurt himself with. I asked him to keep his arms down. Hanu? would never have spoken of prayers, of prophets, certainly not of heaven. The hint of kinship I had felt with Vasily left me. He was a madman. I was not. I couldn’t be.
I felt anger toward this man. He had been given a mission the same as me, and he had failed to retain his sanity, despite the luxuries of his ship and the benefit of other human company.
Or had I once been close to becoming Vasily? Had Hanu? saved me from this exact madness? Suddenly, mercy seemed necessary.
“Apostle,” I said to Vasily, “you’ve done perfectly. You passed the test.”
Vasily sobbed like a small boy, his hand on mine. “Now I get to go home,” he said. “Take me from here now. It is too quiet. I miss the hum of mosquitoes above the lake.”
I was glad. He didn’t know Hanu?, I was the only human who’d ever truly know this cosmic secret. I did not want to share it.
He unstrapped himself and pushed me aside, leaping toward his sketch collection, and ripped off the page closest to him. He opened his mouth wide, crumpled the paper, and stuffed it inside. He chewed, swallowed, and stuck out his tongue to show me there was nothing left. He picked up the next page and did the same, occasionally murmuring, “It should have been me, the prophet.”
Klara appeared in the door, just as Vasily consumed his last sketch. “You are bleeding,” she said.
“A nonbeliever may not enter the shrine!” Vasily yelled, shooing Klara away with his hands. She gestured for me to follow. As I floated toward her, Vasily grabbed at my hand and kissed my knuckles, my fingertips, and I was too sick to speak, to look at the beastly grimace on the apostle’s face. We exited his lair, the door slamming behind us. Klara crossed her arms.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “I know I shouldn’t—”
“I told you the man was not well,” she said sternly.
“I had to hear about the—”
“His monsters? No, Jakub. You will stay inside your room from now. You never exit, only to use bathroom with permission. And if I find you out again, I will strap you to the wall and I will let you starve until Earth. Yes?”
I returned to my holding room. Vasily’s words crawled through my ears, spun around the cranium. No, he couldn’t have known Hanu?. Or did Hanu? appear and speak to Vasily, the former church boy, in a language he knew would have a real effect on a God-fearing man? I didn’t want to believe it. Hanu? was mine.
FOR THE FIRST TIME since I boarded NashaSlava1, I could not rest. Klara came to me ten days before our estimated arrival on Earth. She said she had some things to tell me. First, she had sent a message to tsentr after seeing on her own the horrific state of Vasily’s body and living quarters. She received a message back that Vasily was to be left alone unless he posed immediate danger to the crew or the ship. He was part of a separate mission ordered by the interior to study the effects of spaceflight on certain mental health issues.
I asked Klara why she would tell me this.
“Because I am tired of despicable men who rule empires,” she said, “and because as soon as I return to Earth, I will move West and never think of this again. And because of the last thing I have to tell you. A friend of mine from tsentral told me what they will do with you. She said you will go to Zal Ozhidaniya. It is a place for special political prisoner, people who used to be spies, those sorts. And I feel responsible for this. Jakub, I want you to know, I have to bring you, I have to give you to them, but we are friends, still. I trust you. I want you to know this before they take you away. I would do something if I could, I swear.”
“Will you kiss me on the cheek?” I said.
“Jakub.”
“It doesn’t mean anything. I just have not felt it in so long. I want to remember it.”
Klara kissed my cheek, right next to my lips, and for a moment the dread of her revelation didn’t matter. I asked her to leave before the elation expired.
I SPENT THOSE last two weeks on the ship hiding from the Russians, staying in my cabin and asking Klara to leave me alone. She said she understood. I pondered what life in a luxury political prison was like, how I would bear never seeing my country or Lenka again. The things I might have to do to free myself. Before we initiated the approach protocols inside the landing chamber, Yuraj wanted to strap me down, but Klara convinced him not to. She repeated that I could be trusted.