“Hello, Mr. President,” Pruett said, his voice coming through.
“Good. Hold on, Tom.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hunter, are you there?”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“Tom, can you still hear me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, gentlemen, we’re talking on a secure line. I want to know everything that’s going on. And when I say everything, God Almighty, I mean everything. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir!” was the unanimous response.
“All right. Tom, what’s your situation?”
“We left Howard two hours ago, sir. We expect to reach French Guiana in one more hour. The platoon has been fully briefed and armed.”
“What’s your confidence level as a special ops expert?”
“Well, based on what I’ve learned from General Olson, sir, this team — they call themselves Mambo — is about the best there is. In my opinion they have more than a fifty-percent chance of success.”
“Fifty percent? Why so low? Didn’t you just say they’re the best?”
“Well, Mr. President, considering the short notice and their lack of familiarity with the base they are attacking, I believe that—”
“Don’t we have satellite reconnaissance for that? And also, isn’t that Guilloux woman providing additional intelligence?”
“Ah… yes, sir, and every man has had a chance to fully review the data on the compound as we know it.”
“Then?”
“In the past — on missions that I’ve been involved in, that is— we were always able to build a mock-up of the target and run a week or two of simulated assaults prior to the real thing. That’s the difference, sir. Without that familiarity factor the odds are almost against them.”
“I guess I’ll have to live with those odds since we’re out of time. Hunter?”
“Yes, sir?”
“What’s the orbiter situation?”
“Lightning has less than thirty hours of oxygen left, sir.”
“What’s the plan of action?”
“We’re going full blast on Atlantis, sir, but it’s going to be close.”
“Explain.”
“Atlantis was hoisted to the External Tank and Rocket Booster Assembly just two days ago, sir. It was not scheduled to launch for ten more days. Now we’re trying to get up there in less than twenty-four hours. We’ll do the best we can, but I hesitate to launch prematurely and risk more problems. By that I mean two stranded orbiters instead of one.”
“How is the press being handled on this?”
“We’re keeping them out of it under the pretext that Atlantis will join Lightning for an emergency rescue drill as part of NASA’s overall strategy to get Freedom operational before the end of the century, sir.”
“You think they’re really buying that?”
“I think so, sir. The press conference went relatively well.”
The President rubbed the tips of his fingers against his temples, inhaled deeply, and exhaled. He opened his eyes. “Listen up, Hunter. We’re out of time. The lives of two astronauts are in danger here. I want all of you to do whatever it takes to launch Atlantis as soon as humanly possible, without, I repeat, without compromising the safety of Atlantis and its crew.”
“Believe me when I tell you, Mr. President, we’re doing all we possibly can to launch as soon as possible.”
“I know, Hunter, I know. That will be all for now, gentlemen. Both of you have direct access to my office at any hour of the day. I may be tied up with other matters, but the Defense Secretary will be handling the issue in my absence. Remember that security is of the utmost concern. Understood?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Thank you, gentlemen.” The President hung up the phone and faced Stice. “What do you think?”
“Well, sir, you probably already know I’m not very keen on the military operation. It’s much too risky. Too many things can go wrong. What happens if some of our men get caught by the enemy? What should I do? Deny intervention?”
“Give me a call.”
“What if you’re unavailable and I have to make a split second decision, sir?”
“You’re gonna have to rely on your best judgment. Just keep in mind that although this is a covert operation, there are American lives involved.”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“Good. Now get the Kremlin on the line.”
“Excuse me, sir?”
“The Kremlin. I must speak to the President of Russia immediately.”
Stice jumped out of the chair and reached for the phone.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
COALITION
We believe that when men reach beyond this planet, they should leave their differences behind them.
Commander Nikolai Aleksandrovich Strakelov switched off the radio after a ten-minute conversation with Baikonur Control, the primary cosmodrome for support of Mir, and the main center for rocket and satellite research and development. To his right was Flight Engineer Valentina Tereshkova. She looked at him and frowned. Things had not really been going well since their arrival at the space complex two months ago. First had been the problem with their heat shields flaring out of the space module during disengagement from the booster section while approaching Mir; then Progress VI had mysteriously blown up after reaching orbit, and now the standing order from Moscow meant another week-long postponement of a carefully planned schedule of experiments for their eight-month stay at Mir. Strakelov exhaled. They didn’t have a choice. Their American comrades were in trouble and needed help.
He motioned to Tereshkova to follow him into the Kvant-2 module. The Mir complex was made up of modules that had been launched into space one at a time over a period of two years to achieve their current T-shape configuration. In the center was the original Mir module, which had a multiple docking unit on one end and a single docking unit at the other. Two modules were connected to Mir’s multiple docking end at 180-degree angles from one another. They were known as Kvant-1 and Kristall. Kvant-2 was docked at the single end of Mir. The Soyuz TM-15 spacecraft was docked at the other end of Kvant-2. The main living quarters were in Mir. The other modules contained a variety of laboratories and space observation gear. There was a temporary module also connected to Mir’s multiple docking unit: a cargo spacecraft, Progress VII, that had arrived two weeks ago, carrying water, food, air supplies, reading material, film, fuel, and new experiments for Mir’s crew. Strakelov and Tereshkova had nearly completed the long and tedious process of unloading Progress VII’s cargo, and were ready to use up the last of Progress VII’s fuel to push the Mir complex into a higher, safer orbit before jettisoning away the empty module to burn up upon Earth re-entry. Now Moscow had given them new instructions: Progress VII’s remaining fuel would be used for another purpose.
Strakelov went through the docking tunnel and floated into Kvant-2. He turned and faced Tereshkova.
“What do you think?” he asked.