Tears Over Zakuski

A Thursday Prompt story
© 2018 by Walter Reimer


prompt: launching


After the news spread like a grass fire across the steppes, the entire settlement fell silent. There was little conversation; no speeches extolling the accomplishment, no grand words about the triumph of the proletariat. When people did speak, it was in low tones.

Mostly they went about their business like automata.

Two nights afterward, a canine femme with black fur framing her face and contrasting with her mainly brown and white coat walked up to an apartment door and gently tapped her knuckles on the varnished wood. “Albina?” she asked. “Albina?”

“What?” a gruff voice responded. It sounded like she’d been asleep, or crying.

“Let me in, please.”

“No.”

The canine huffed in frustration. Her friend could be so stubborn at times. “Albina.”

“What?”

“Let me in or I’ll tell him.”

The voice on the other side of the door gained a harsh note. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Let me in, or I’ll get my bicycle.” The canine smiled as she heard the door unlock, but she quickly schooled her expression as the door opened and she was confronted by a slightly shorter wheaten-furred canine whose bangs threatened to obscure her eyes. Her uniform jacket was hanging open, there was no sign of her tie, and her shirt collar was unbuttoned. “I came to see how you were.”

Albina huffed and Marina’s nose wrinkled. Her friend had been drinking, probably that sweet Georgian stuff that she favored, or maybe some home-brewed stuff supplied by the boys in the motor pool. She swept her bangs out of the way, revealing that her eyes were bloodshot from crying and from drink. “What does it look like?” Albina asked querulously.

“It looks like you haven’t eaten – “

She should have realized that anything she said would be the wrong thing, as her friend started crying again. She gathered Albina into her arms and hugged her as she sobbed, stroking her headfur .

“Come on,” Marina said. “We’re going to my room.”

“Why?” Albina sniffled.

The slightly taller woman smiled. “Because I can’t stand to see you like this, my friend. And, I have zakuski waiting in my room.” Mention of food made the shorter girl’s stomach rumble and she gave a halfhearted giggle. “Come on,” Marina said, and the two headed for the next residential block.

The table in her room was covered with dishes. Smoked meats, sardines, pickles, and other foods were grouped around two bottles of vodka. She let Albina sit down before pouring three small glasses of the clear liquor and placing one before her.

Zakuski is a very versatile dish, capable of being an appetizer or an entire meal. Albina looked at the food, then at the drink before her and said, “But – “

“But what?” Marina asked as she poured her own drink.

Tears welled in her eyes again. “There should be three.”

“Ah.” A small, empty plate was placed at a third chair, and Marina placed the third glass of vodka on the plate. “For her.”

“For her.” Albina surveyed the food again. “I was supposed to go up,” she mumbled.

“Yes?” Marina prompted.

The lighter-furred canine nodded slightly, placing a piece of cheese and a slice of meat on her plate. “Yes, I was slated to go. But the Medical Officer noticed I wasn’t eating – I lose my appetite when I get nervous, I told him – but he went to the Chief, and he ordered her to take my place.” She drank the vodka in one gulp, refilled the glass and started to eat.

“I’d heard about that,” Marina said. Her own plate was quickly emptied, and she took a drink of the vodka before getting more food. “It wasn’t your fault, Albina.”

Albina had been spreading some kholodets onto a slice of dark bread. Some of the meat jelly dripped on the table as she ate. “I keep feeling that it was, Marina,” she said miserably. “I should have gone to the Chief – “

“You know how he’d react.”

“I know, but I should have tried.” The woman brushed her bangs away again and gazed at the empty plate and the full glass of vodka. “She was always laughing about something, wasn’t she?”

Marina nodded. “I don’t think I ever saw her without a smile on her muzzle.”

“Good pilot, too.”

“Yes, she was good. Not as good as you, though.”

Albina’s nose twitched as she gave a little self-deprecating smile. “You should have seen her in the simulator before she left, Mushka. Nothing the technicians did seemed to rattle her.” She sighed and bit into a hard-boiled egg. Chewing, she remarked, “Makes me wonder what went wrong after she went up.”

Marina nodded, remembering watching from the blockhouse as the R-7 lifted clear of the launch area, the radio crackling with the shouted word Poekhali! and repeated assurances that everything was going fine. The Chief and his staff had cleared her for at least two orbits.

And then . . .

The two sat and ate and drank and reminisced almost until midnight, and finally Marina tucked Albina into her bed, while she claimed the couch.

Before she fell asleep, the canine heard her friend sobbing again.



***



“Comrade Chief Designer,” Marina said. Dressed in a crisp uniform, she stood at attention two paces from the mastiff’s desk. So far, she was succeeding in keeping her morning hangover under wraps.

“Comrade Lieutenant Vyrubova,” and the man waved her to a chair with an almost absent paw gesture. She sat down as he finished reading the file in front of him, and her ears and tail twitched as he closed the folder. “How is Lieutenant Belenko, Comrade? I know that Lieutenant Kudryavka’s death hit her particularly hard.”

“It hit all of us, sir,” Marina said. “Things were going so well – “

“Yes,” the mastiff said. “But what we are doing is not safe. No one has ever flown into outer space, and there are so many unknowns. But every step we take, Comrade - every step increases our understanding. She did not die in vain, I assure you.”

“I understand, Comrade.”

“Ohchen horosho.” He glanced at the window and said, “I want you to do me a favor.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Please let Lieutenant Belenko know that she is slated for the next mission, subject to clearance by the flight surgeon.” A pause. “Not the Chief Medical Officer.”

Marina nodded. “Yes, Comrade. I’ll tell her. Will that be all?”

“One more thing, Comrade Lieutenant. Does it distress you that Belenko is next, and not you?”

She shook her head. “As you say, Comrade, every step we take furthers our knowledge. I am certain that Albina will succeed. If I am next after her, that is well; if not, I know that my turn will come.”

“Well said. Dismissed,” and Marina left.

After the door closed, Korolev sat and gazed at it for several moments.



end




(Based on this lovely art by  spacehunk