Silver Tower

CHAPTER 22

It was a big surprise for the junior airmen and their supervisors to see General Lieutenant Alesander Govorov, the commander of Space Defense, out early that morning inspecting the area. Accompanied by the newly promoted Colonel Nikolai Gulaev, Govorov entered the vehicle assembly building of Glowing Star, Tyuratam's antisatellite launch site, and came up behind Starshiy Praporshchik Igor Cacreyatov, who happened to be sitting with his feet on his desk, sipping coffee laced with a bit of East German schnapps. The big senior warrant officer stared idly out the window watching the work out on launch pad two. "Work seems to proceed slower than usual, Airman Anokhin," Cacreyatov said over his shoulder. "I'll postpone the inspection of launch pad two until tomorrow, but it had better be done then or I will crack some heads."

Gulaev glanced at Govorov, half expected to see the Space Defense commander pull out his 7.62-millimeter Tokarav TT-33 automatic pistol and blow poor Cacreyatov away, but to Gulaev's surprise Govorov's face showed a wide smile as he picked up the tiny two hundred fifty milliliter schnapps bottle, ran his nose over the mouth and nodded his approval at the scent.

Without turning around, the senior warrant officer said, "I can tell without looking, Anokhin, that you have something in your hand that will cost you a month of kitchen duty and a week's pay if you so much as think about stealing or drinking."

"I'll think not, Comrade."

Cacreyatov got to his feet in a flurry of arms and legs and stood at attention, eyes straight ahead, chest heaving.

"I'll think I've found the reason why my Elektron project is delayed, Colonel Gulaev," Govorov said. The thin smile stayed on his lips as he dropped the tiny bottle of schnapps onto the cold concrete floor. Cacreyatov's reflex was to try to reach out and grab it, but he wisely kept at attention. "The instant that bottle hit the floor, Cacreyatov, you were no longer a starshiy praporshchik." Govorov was no longer smiling. "What lower rank you sink to — or whether your military career comes to a sudden end — depends on your answers now and your actions in the next forty-eight hours." He let the words sink in, then: "Now, Colonel Gulaev has reported to me that the second Elektron has been sitting beside that SL-16 booster for three days. When he inquires about its status, he gets no reply. You will give me a reply, Cacreyatov, and you will give it to me now."

The freshly demoted senior warrant officer said he had no excuse, sir—

"Wrong answer, Cacreyatov," and Cacreyatov could almost see five thousand rubles a year fly out of his pocket. "This is not a damned military academy. When I ask a question I expect a real answer. So once again — what is the reason for the delay?"

"Sir, I… was unclear about the procedures dealing with the Elektron. My men are not allowed to work near the Elektrons without direct supervision from Colonel Gulaev's special personnel."

"Do Colonel Gulaev's men prohibit any contact with the Elektron?"

"No, sir."

"Is access limited in any section of the Elektron?"

"Well, the cargo area is sealed, and some components in the cockpit are removed or sealed—"

"Per my instructions," Govorov told him. "Does this limited access to the cargo bay or those security sealed cockpit components explain the delays?" Cacreyatov kept his mouth shut. "No? Then it seems you've lied to me. Why the hell is that SL-16 not ready for launch?"

"Sir, replacement parts were not ordered in time. They have just been installed, but the crews haven't—"

"Who didn't order the parts in time?"

Cacreyatov closed his eyes, bracing for the execution. "Sir, I failed to order the third-stage pressure-test fittings in time for the final mating. The tests are being completed this morning. When the tests are finished I will make the final inspection. The second SL-16 will be ready for launch in forty-eight hours."

Govorov nodded at the veteran maintenance officer. "Now understand this. For the good of my command I should bring you up on charges for having liquor in this building, but I can't spare the time to court-martial you. You will lose, however, one pay grade for every hour over forty-eight that both of those SL-16s are delayed from launch readiness. You will lose another pay grade for every launch countdown hold attributable to you. If you run out of pay grades you will spend a year at hard labor for each hold. And don't push your technicians too hard to make up for your own laziness, Cacreyatov — they might decide to get sick, and then where will you be?" He did not need to spell it out. The message was received.

"I take responsibility for Cacreyatov's incompetence, sir." Gulaev said as he and Govorov headed for the exits. "If I'd supervised his section more closely I might have spotted his laziness earlier."

"Call it a hard lesson learned, Nikolai. No commander should operate from a chair. You were thorough in your inquiries, but you never went personally to inspect the progress on the ships." He glanced at his deputy. "Get Elektron number two manned and ready to fly in two days. That's the way to redeem yourself. And good luck, Nikolai… More depends on you than you can imagine."

"Yes, sir… By the way, sir, Colonel Voloshin, the pilot for Elektron Two, has already reported to Glowing Star. I've thoroughly examined his fitness reports and evaluations and find them to be excellent."

"Good…" Govoroy's voice trailed off as he caught sight of Elektron One, mounted on top of an SL-16-A booster three miles away. The three-stage solid- and liquid-propellant rocket, similar to the long abandoned American Saturn-V booster, was well over two hundred twenty feet tall and weighed nearly two hundred fifty tons. It carried "strap-on" solid propellant boosters on its lower stage to lift its payload to the required one-thousand-mile orbit around earth. "I want to go up to the Elektron," Govorov said, as he got into the waiting staff car. "Arrange it, please."

"Yes, sir," Gulaev said. He was on the Zil limousine's carphone in an instant, and a few minutes later they were riding the service elevator to the SL-16's capsule.

Unlike the booster, the Elektron spaceplane was painted a dull gray, a color designed to help stabilize its temperature once in space. It was fifty-five feet long and thirty feet wide from wingtip to wingtip. Its nose, wing leading edges and underside were all covered with protective silica tiles. The aft end of the spaceplane was round and fit perfectly into the thirty-foot-diameter third stage of the SL-16 booster. Forward of the mating area the spaceplane's fuselage flattened into smooth, gracefully flowing lines, making it somewhat resemble a manta ray. The cockpit was a small bump on the upper side. The bump continued down the Elektron's spine to form the small ten-ton-capacity cargo bay and main-engine housing, then flared gently into a dorsal atmospheric stabilizer.

Technicians accompanying Govorov and Gulaev set up safety barriers and attachments to the Elektron as Govorov inspected every square inch of the spaceplane's surface. "Looks good," he said as he checked the last of the tiles. "They did a tremendous job."

"The tiles are reinspected twice a day, sir," Gulaev said. "That will continue right until lift-off." The technicians finally unlatched the hatch on the upper side of the cockpit. As if he traveled in a spaceplane every day of his life, Govorov knocked gravel from his boots, grabbed a boarding bar mounted just above the hatch and climbed into the cockpit.

Cacreyatov, Gulaev, the two technicians — for a brief moment all of them faded from Govorov's mind as he slid into the seat of the Elektron spaceplane — no, he told himself, the space fighter…

Its cockpit was futuristic, featuring advanced digital instrumentation, a wide laser-projection heads-up display and a digital computer-controlled weapons monitor panel. Three redundant microprocessors handled all on-board functions, but almost everything from orbital insertion to reentry and landing could be accomplished manually or by remote control with ground controllers. The cockpit was large enough for the cosmonaut inside to swivel around and operate a second set of controls mounted behind him, and a docking port on the Elektron's belly allowed easy docking to Mir, the Soviet Union's orbiting module. That was essential: on its planned seek-and-destroy missions the Elektron would most likely need a refueling before a safe landing could be attempted. "Excellent…" Govorov said in a half-whisper. He examined the weapons control panel and the switches. mounted on the multifunction control stick, satisfying himself that the positioning was correct for a gravity-free environment. Up in space with the normal sense of up and down suspended, a pilot could not rely on muscular cues to tell him in a split-second's time what switches to pull. So it was necessary to realign all the switches in the spaceplane cockpit to conform to a functional hierarchy.

Gulaev looked on, thinking that he would not want to exchange places with his commander and pilot this strange craft. There was something ominous about the spaceplane's dark interior. It had never struck him so before, but now… He broke from his reverie and checked his watch. "Excuse me, General. We must report back to the command post."

Govorov nodded, still running his hands over the controls.

A few moments later he grabbed the entry bar above the hatch and pulled himself out of the cockpit. "Yes," Govorov said, "yes…" — and patted the exterior of this flying marvel, or was caressed a better word…?