After waking up, I worked on the video recorder, nearly disassembling the whole thing — removed all the panels, disconnected the circuit boards, got down to the cassette ejection mechanism, and discovered that a spring had slipped off and a cam had rotated, jamming the tape transport mechanism. Really, a specialist should be doing this kind of repair, but up here, where would you find one?

At 16:21 on orbit 3128, we docked with Progress-16. The approach went calmly, without problems. The docking was against the backdrop of the horizon. Beautiful. They congratulated us on the arrival of the 4th cargo ship. After docking, Ryumin says: “Our program for the rest of the flight is changing somewhat.” Apparently, he didn’t know that Viktor Blagov had already told us about this. We ask: “By how much — a month, two? The main thing,” we say, “is to be home by spring, or at least don’t forget about us up here. Otherwise, it’s no big deal to us — a day or two is nothing.”

Now there was a press conference. On the TV we see about 25-30 people gathered there. It went pretty well. Though humor is hard — you need to respond quickly to questions, and at the same time you’d like to steer some of them toward a joke, but it doesn’t always work out.

One of the journalists asked: “Valentin, before launch, when we were talking by the campfire and you were reading your poems, there were lines about a boy dreaming of an encounter in the Universe. What did you feel when you learned about Gagarin’s flight?” I answered the same thing that every person on Earth felt, keeping in mind that I was 17. It’s the delight of a kid who read science fiction, was filled with wonder, dreamed. And then suddenly a Russian guy, a man of my people, was in space — that’s an enormous sense of pride.

Mission Control: Have you seen anything new and interesting lately? I hear Tolya answer: “We have, but only in our dreams.” “And what?” “That’s not something you can tell over the radio.” We laughed.

They ask: “During your conversation with Jean-Loup Chretien, you said you launched his satellite — what did you mean?” We explained: When Chretien came to visit us, he had a small capsule with a slip of paper inside, signed by his friends in France and here in Moscow by people at their embassy. And he asked us to launch it when we went on our EVA. We did, and when he found out the satellite was launched, he said: “That’s the smallest satellite of France.”

Mission Control: You’ve been flying so long that many people have already taken their vacation, and many have already forgotten they took it. When you left, not a single branch had bloomed yet, and now everything has finished blooming and snow is on the ground in places, and you keep flying, flying, flying. When you talk to people, they’re usually not surprised by how long you’ve been flying, but rather by how you two manage together, how relationships are working out. I won’t ask about compatibility now, but I want to ask this: What kind of station would be better — one like this, or one where each crew member has their own cabin?

I answered: Two or three years ago I heard some people expressing the wish that stations should have cabins, but I think that while the crew consists of two, three, or four people, it’s too early for that. Because you can’t distance yourselves from each other here. Close contact is essential here; it helps you overcome all the difficulties that arise, and that brings you closer together. And if something happens, it’s easier to come to each other’s aid or make a quick decision together.

Mission Control: You’re approaching the record, but we know that the last centimeters, grams, minutes are the hardest. Do you feel you’re at the limit of your capabilities? No. There’s a feeling that we’ve already done something significant, but tired — yes, of course we’re tired.

We approach America, it’s in haze. Dark mountain ranges are visible against reddish-yellow sand — California. The land surface here is covered in streaks, folds of dark rock, patches of sand in various shades.

I received a letter from the Chairman of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the Chechen-Ingush ASSR. I’ve known him a long time, and we’re friends. He’s a cheerful, emotional man, with a sense of humor. You could feel it: in his letter, he really wanted to lift our spirits.

Dear Elbrus Mountains of ours!

By naming yourselves after the highest peak of the Caucasus, you have made those mountains taller than all the mountains on Earth combined, stacked one on top of another.

Dear Valentin and Anatoly!

Thank you for adorning the celebrations of the Chechen-Ingush Republic, a small corner of our homeland, with your greeting from the cosmic distance, which infused these celebrations with such spirit that it seemed to us as though our holiday had become the center of attention of the entire Universe. How symbolic — the million-strong people of our republic celebrate their 60th anniversary, and it becomes the common joy of a great country, of all 270 million people of a multinational nation, and you, two of her sons, greet the republic from Space, even dedicating an entire orbit around the planet to her. Thank you enormously! Such fraternal attention from the country increases our strength tenfold. You can’t even imagine how dear you are to all Soviet people, regardless of what language they speak. Now, our heroes, we will be glad to welcome you to Checheno-Ingushetia under its banner, bearing 4 orders. I convey to you the warmest wishes on behalf of the 42 nations and ethnic groups living in the republic.

Now, Valentin, about scientific matters. Flying over the Caucasus Mountains, you could not have failed to notice a grand structure there, reaching for the sky, and you were surely puzzled by it. What you saw was a rocket for 60 people, built according to the blueprints of that same Magomed from Ordzhonikidze who treated you with herbs and ointments after your surgery, when you injured your leg. As Magomed said, the rocket is to be launched toward you at the appointed moment. The crew is also being prepared under his guidance. The rocket is fueled with 100-year-old cognac and lubricated with mountain goat fat, to reduce friction and heat inside. Among those selected by Magomed himself, there is not a single woman, for there is nothing more terrifying, as he says, than a woman’s tongue, and that is something he has never learned to cure.

Among them are masters of Caucasian cuisine, dancers, horsemen, and tailors. He even took care to prepare a saddlebag of various medicinal remedies for each traveler, since there will be nowhere to obtain them up there. I visited him recently, bringing my sister with a bruised hand. The doctors wanted to amputate her index finger, but Magomed, as you know, cursed those white-capped swans and applied his ointment to the finger. The finger, joking aside, is healing successfully, while Magomed swears louder than ever and complains that they don’t provide him with the proper conditions for life and scientific work. The funniest thing was when he accidentally saw you on the television screen. He jumped in surprise and cried out: “O Allah, how he resembles that sportsman whose leg I treated!” There are plenty of people who look alike, I told him. If he finds out that it was actually you, he’ll give us all no peace and will demand better conditions, since he even treated a cosmonaut.

So this same scientist Magomed of ours has undertaken his experiment — putting an entire group of people into orbit. He has proven the advantage of this operation. Among thousands of benefits, there is this very humane one: the more people, the merrier.

The rocket, he says, is reliable, withstanding up to 4-5 on the earthquake scale. I don’t know what the frame is made of, but inside (he told me in confidence) it is lined with felt, to better maintain the set temperature, and also to be less of a fire hazard. After all, some of those selected are smokers. Magomed said that tobacco smoke would not only not interfere but, on the contrary, would repel any insects that might appear up there in space. Who knows what these insects are, but better to keep your distance from them. The launch is set for late December, when the frost sets in. This also makes sense, so the rocket doesn’t overheat during ascent.

They asked him about the rocket’s power — how many horsepower does the engine have? He smiled slyly and answered: “The power of my rocket is not measured in horsepower, but in the speed of mountain goats.” “And how many goat-power is that?” “A lot,” he answered. Clearly, he didn’t want to give away secrets.

Such is our friend and mentor Magomed.

All the best to you.

Khazhbikar BOKOV