Silver Tower

CHAPTER 20

"Is it war?" Khromeyev asked in a low voice.

Czilikov was almost too angry to reply. "They must pay. For every drop of our blood shed in Iran, for every gram of our steel lost in those Iranian mountains, the Americans must pay, and they will…"

Czilikov stared at the computer-generated wall map of the Persian Gulf region. He stood and walked slowly toward it as if it depicted some gruesome atrocity. Indeed, for him it did. "Nine planes destroyed; three hundred and thirty men dead or injured in the north. Sixty dead or injured in Tehran, sixty captured. All in four hours…"

"They came out of nowhere," Admiral Chercherovin said. "The American fighters attacked without warning. Somehow they approached the formations in the north and south without revealing their presence, and launched missiles from long range without radar guidance. My aircrews say they never received any advanced warning. None. And it was three hours before sunrise…"

"They were overconfident," General Ilanovsky said between clenched teeth. "Cocky. Their incompetence caused the loss of one hundred and twenty of my best soldiers—"

"It's you who are the incompetent," Chercherovin said, jabbing a finger at the commander in chief of ground forces. "You had over a hundred SPETNAZ troops at Mehrabad Airport, supposedly the elite of our army, and yet you couldn't hold off a bunch of undisciplined militiamen."

"Enough," Czilikov said. "You will stop this stupid bickering." His ice-blue gaze took in the faces of the Kollegiya. "The pride of the Soviet Union. Heroes, all. Am I to bring this gaggle of children before the general secretary when the Stavka Council of War meets in two hours? Are we going to point fingers and accuse each other and argue like old women? We'll all be shot, and we'll deserve it."

He gestured to the wall-sized computer screen. "I want an answer. I want an answer to what we've suffered today." Czilikov turned to the newest addition to the group. "General Govorov. Your opinion?"

Govorov stood. "Sir, there can be only one answer to how our forces were attacked so successfully: the space station Armstrong."

"Armstrong?" General Lichizev of the KGB shook his head. "I told you, Govorov, it's impossible—"

Czilikov turned again to Govorov. "Continue."

"Sir, as I've indicated before, the radar aboard Space Station Armstrong has the power to track both American and Russian aircraft. It's a relatively simple matter for the Americans to position their aircraft for attack, using data transmissions from Armstrong. The American aircraft would not need to use their radars to find our planes. Nor would conventional radar be needed for bombing raids, cruise missile attacks, or submarine attacks…"

"Then it's obvious … the space station must be destroyed." Czilikov bit off each word.

"I agree," Govorov said quickly, earning no points for that gratuity with Czilikov. Still, the message wasn't lost on the minister of defense: Govorov had been right, Feather had to fail as long as Armstrong Station was in orbit.

General Marasimov, commander of the Strategic Rocket Forces, spoke up now. "An attack with the Gorgon antisatellite missiles—"

"Will also fail," Govorov said. "Armstrong is very well protected. The station's Thor missiles used for antiballistic missile defense are even more capable against the clumsy Gorgon missile. The Gorgons, however, can be used as a prelude to the main attack force…

"The main attack force?" Czilikov said.

Govorov glanced at his superior, Marshal Rhomerdunov, who nodded. Now. Now was the moment if there ever was one…

"Comrade Minister," Rhomerdunov began, and all heads turned to him, "a plan… I have a plan to deal specifically with the threat of a heavily armed and protected orbiting platform. A plan to lift the Soviet Aerospace Forces into the next century." Govorov was careful not to show any reaction to Rhomerdunov's plagiarism… "A plan, sir, previously approved by the Kollegiya, to arm the Elektron spaceplane with specially designed missiles. They—"

"Missiles?" Czilikov said. "Missiles on a one-man spaceplane? What are these missiles? I wasn't informed—"

"The plan was approved years ago by Kollegiya, sir," Rhomerdunov said uneasily. "The implementation was not begun until recently." Czilikov appeared ready to continue his questioning but held back, and Rhomerdunov, encouraged, quickly pressed on. "A group of these Elektron space fighterplanes led by General Govorov will be sent to destroy this Space Station Armstrong."

Instead of the expected murmur of voices, there was silence, finally broken by Czifikov. "Everything that General Govorov has predicted has unfortunately come true. The American space station is indeed more powerful than we had imagined. They have, it seems, the capability of transmitting space-based radar data from the station to a variety of users — ships, ground installations, headquarters, even aircraft. They are also able to vector attack aircraft so as to avoid danger or counterattack. The time has indeed, come: Armstrong Space Station must be destroyed."

Czilikov turned to Rhomerdunov. "That will be your assignment. It will be carried out immediately. I will inform the Stavka." And to Govorov, "You will lead the attackers."

"Sir, it may still take several days, perhaps weeks, to prepare the Elektron spaceplanes for launch from Tyuratam. It will take time to mate the spaceplanes with their SL-16 Krypkei boosters. The Elektron spaceplanes are not part of the standing strategic defense force—"

"They are now," Czilikov said. "I authorize a minimum of two fully armed Elektron spaceplanes on round-the-clock alert at Tyuratam spaceport." He returned to his seat at the head of the oblong conference table. "But we can't wait weeks or even days to begin our counteroffensive. Our advances have been stalled. The Americans are getting stronger and we are getting weaker. I want a plan to retake the offensive, to recoup our losses and advance Operation Feather to success, The Stavka and Politburo demand nothing less than complete victory, as do our dead comrades in Iran."

"The major threats to us in Iran and the Persian Gulf remain, sir," Admiral Chercherovin said. "They are the American carrier task force in the Arabian Sea and the land-based Rapid Deployment Force bombers and long-range fighters in eastern Turkey."

"Saudi Arabia hasn't yet allowed American offensive aircraft to use its bases," Marshal Yesimov of the Air Force put in, "but the Americans may convince them. Qatar and Kuwait may also let American ships or planes use their bases. Certainly, the Iranians will agree to anything the Americans want if they are assured protection…"

"Then swift, decisive action must be taken," Czilikov said. "General Govorov, once more, all efforts must be made to knock out this Space Station Armstrong, and now… All our other actions may be pointless unless Armstrong is neutralized. "

I understand, sir," Govorov said. "And perhaps all of our objectives can be accomplished at once—"

"How?"

Govorov fought showing even a hint of a smile. "The space station is formidable when it is protecting others from attack, but I feel it may not be so if it is forced to protect itself."

"But you have said that the Elektron spaceplanes will not be ready for such an attack," Khromeyev said. "And Marshal Rhomerdunov has said that the Gorgon antisatellite missiles are ineffectual against such a facility."

"That is my estimation as well. But meanwhile, there is another weapon we have not considered that may prove effective in convincing the Americans of the seriousness of moving their space station within striking distance of the Soviet Union. I refer to the laser at our Sary Shagan facility. Intelligence reports only a portion of the American space station is covered with reflective anti-laser coating. Sustained bursts from our laser might do very considerable damage…"

Czilikov's eyes brightened. "I want a full report on how soon the laser can be activated; I want it on my desk in an hour." He turned to Admiral Chercherovin. "You must regain control of the region. And fast."

He waved off any further discussion. They all had his message — produce or else…