“When you have a smaller truck,” General Druzhinin was fond of saying, “you simply make more trips.”
Aleksander Maslov wished it were not so. The more often he made the journey to Soyuz Fifty, the more likely he would be detected by the pilots of the 1st Aerospace Squadron. Their original plan called for eight flights in eight nights, but though he had not voiced his concerns to Druzhinin, since the attempted ambush off the coast of Vietnam, he was disturbed by the rapidity with which the American aerospace command was narrowing its search area. It was much sooner than they had projected.
In the early evening, after having dinner in the pilot’s mess, Maslov watched the loading of the warhead. The MakoShark’s cargo bays together were 5.8 meters long, but to utilize both as a single unit, interior structural members between the fore and aft bays had had to be unbolted and removed. The loss of the members greatly weakened the fuselage, and abrupt, high-G maneuvers would have to be curtailed until the supports were replaced.
The SS-X-25 ICBM was 11.5 meters in length, almost twice as long as the cargo bay. However, since the rocket would not require a launch from the Earth’s surface, the first stage booster component could be removed and discarded. Separating the warhead from the secondary rocket motor and electronics stage resulted in two units: a warhead of 3.3 meters in length and a second stage of 5.4 meters in length. The small stabilizing fins on the second stage had to be removed in order to gain sufficient clearance in the bay, but they were unnecessary in the missile’s new role.
In calculating the takeoff weight, Maslov did not find a problem with the warhead. With the second stage propulsion component as his cargo, though, he would be able to arm the MakoShark with only Wasp II missiles in order to stay under the maximum weight. He would also be required to leave behind one-third of his solid fuel propellent.
That problem was for tomorrow night. Tonight, he and Nikitin would lift the first warhead into orbit.
Maslov watched until the warhead was hoisted into place and the workers began fitting short pieces of wood between structural members and the warhead to secure it, then he crossed the runway to the command center.
Kasartskin was not in the communications room, and Maslov shooed the corporal on duty out of his chair, sat down, and selected the channel incorporating the MakoShark’s altered scrambler.
“Commander, Commodore.”
He waited, repeated the signal, and waited some more.
“Commodore, this is Commander,” Bryntsev finally responded.
“Status report, please.”
“Commodore, we are perhaps thirty minutes behind schedule. I allowed us an extra half-hour of sleep in order to reduce the stress level.”
“That is understandable,” Maslov said. “How is the modification proceeding?”
“We removed all of the biological laboratory equipment in the end module and sealed it off from the rest of the station, then pumped out the atmosphere and opened the rocket mating hatch to the exterior.”
Maslov could picture it clearly, having seen it for himself. The last module in the string of modules incorporated a special airlock and hatch which mated with the passenger-carrying rockets transporting cosmonauts between the station and the Baikonur Cosmodrome. If additional components were to be added to the station, the airlock was designed to be moved to the end of the new module.
“Then with the atmosphere evacuated,” Bryntsev continued, “we drilled a hole through the hull and inserted the umbilical cable connector.”
“There are no leaks?” Maslov asked.
“We will not know until we have restored the atmosphere in the module, but it has been sealed well and bolted into place. I believe it will hold the pressure.”
“Good,” Maslov encouraged him.
“The corporal is now moving the fire control console into the module from the outside. The passage through the hatch is a close fit, and we have removed the legs of the console. They are unnecessary, anyway. As soon as that is accomplished, we will close the hatch and begin pressurizing the module.”
“Very good, Captain. Commodore out.”
The system they had decided on, for lack of space, utilized only one fire control and launch programming console taken from a mobile ground launcher, so only one rocket at a time could be connected by a fifteen-meter umbilical cable to the console. The other three rockets would be tethered to the space station and be required to await their turns for programming. If all went well, the other three would never have to be used anyway.
Maslov was relatively certain the first would be launched. Some governments would need evidence.
Deadly evidence.
He heard the telephone ring back in Druzhinin’s office and pushed himself out of the chair. In the corridor, he turned right and walked back to the office.
The general waved him inside, continuing to listen intently to the caller.
“Yes, thank you, Doctor.”
Druzhinin replaced the receiver in its cradle.
“Puzzling,” he said.
“What is that, Comrade General?”
“Doctor Lemesh had a visit from a United Nations medical inspection team today. In the morning.” Druzhinin related the particulars.
“They were flying an American Air Force airplane?” Maslov asked.
“Yes. And the three inspectors were all U.S. Air Force officers.”
“I do not like it,” Maslov said.
“Nor do I. Do you have an interpretation, Aleksander Illiyich?”
Maslov thought about the timing. “I believe that Boris and I should take off immediately with the warhead. We can be back here by three or four in the morning, load the propulsion stage, and take off again before dawn. We will wait out the day in space.”
“That would be extremely wearing on you, Aleksander. Fatigue causes mistakes.”
“It must be done, General. If we get caught with the warheads here, the cause will be lost. We cannot protect ourselves with ground-based nuclear weapons.”
Druzhinin nodded slowly. “I agree.”
“I slept for most of the morning. Were we conducting any unusual activities during the time the Americans were at the hospital?”
“There was some personnel drilling. The usual training schedule.”
Pilot training schedules only occurred at night because the New World Order fighter aircraft might draw unwanted notice during the day.
“One other thing,” Druzhinin said. “The mechanics tested the new turbojet engine installed in one-eight.”
One-eight was a MiG-27.
Maslov shook his head. “I believe, General, that we cannot take chances the test went unheard.”
“You are correct.”
“If they are suspicious at all, they will come tonight to take photographs, both night vision and infrared.”
“As soon as you take off,” the general said, “I will put the counterintelligence plan into operation.”
“Good. I will get Nikitin, and we will prepare for an immediate departure.”
As he left the command center, Maslov reminded himself of the base commander’s thoroughness. Druzhinin was an intelligent leader, and he had already formulated a scheme to deny substantial evidence to anyone attempting photographic surveillance.
Machines and motors emitting heat would be shut down, including the electricity generators. A minimal amount of electric power would be drawn from the hospital’s generators to meet the requirements of water pumps and dormitory lights. After the motors or engines cooled for awhile, they would be washed down with water to cool them further. The steel-plank runway, which held the day’s heat for longer than the surrounding earth, would we well-doused with water so as not to provide an infrared image of an elongated rectangle.
All of the base’s personnel would be ordered to their beds. The human body heat which produced infrared images would be confined to dormitories which appeared to be part of the hospital’s complex.