Baker pointed toward the very ends of the keel. "The station thrusters are also out there on the keel?"
"Right," Walker said. "Five small hydrogen rocket engines on each end of the keel. They fire automatically about two dozen times a day to correct the station's altitude, attitude, alignment and orbit. They're also used to move the station if necessary."
"And you get the fuel for that from water?"
"Right again. We use electrolysis chambers powered by the sun to crack waste water into hydrogen and oxygen gas that's collected and stored in those tanks out there. We bring up a shuttle full of water about once every two months, and we also get water from the fuel cells, where we recombine hydrogen, and oxygen to produce electrical power and water. In an emergency a full complement of twenty crewmen can survive up here for six months without resupply. "
They continued through the thick Plexiglas tunnel to the next module. Ann and Baker found themselves in an immense structure many times larger than the command module and laboratory modules they'd just left. "This is a complete Skylab module, the first component of the original NASA space station launched two years ago," Walker explained. "This segment of the station was first lofted before full-scale shuttle flights resumed. As you can see, it's as large as the third stage of a Saturn booster, sizable enough for the experimentation we were doing originally, but certainly not now. "When full-capacity shuttle flights resumed, we built the rest of Silver Tower using cargo bay-sized modules. We now use the Skylab section for living and recreation quarters. For those purposes, there's more than enough room."
"That must be your gymnasium over there," Baker said, pointing to one area of the module.
"Uh huh, everything today's astronaut needs to keep his body fit," Walker said, accenting his voice like a camy pitch-man. "Treadmills and Soloflex weight — you shall forgive the expression — machines here, exercise bicycles over there. At the other end a videotape and audio tape library, computers, television… We get two hundred channels from all over the world."
Baker examined one of the "weight" machines. "Clever," he said. "Using thick rubber bands to create resistance. Obviously a typical weight machine won't work up here." He studied the treadmill. "How does this work?"
"Same as a regular one except you strap on this bungee cord belt first. You can adjust the tension of the bungee cords to increase the resistance. The skipper — General Saint-Michael — practically lives on the treadmill. No one can keep up with him and he's forty-three years old."
They made their way to the sleep module, a series of small chambers that looked like curtain-covered horizontal telephone booths arranged like two-tiered bunkbeds. Each end of the module had two very large rooms, bathrooms.
Walker peeled back the sides of a sleeping bag in the chamber. "You can adjust the elasticity of the sleeping bag covers. We've learned by now that crew, sleep better if they feel at least a little of the sensation of gravity. Sleeping while floating around weightless isn't all that comfortable. We've begun using those zero 'g' vacuum showers like the Russians have, but they can be a real pain. By the way, the sleep module — actually the whole station — is coed. No separate facilities. We haven't had too many women on Silver Tower…
Ann wondered what it would be like bunking with a dozen men. They'd probably feel more uncomfortable than she would. A battleship commander's daughter, she'd grown up seeing men being men. She also liked men, too often more than they returned the favor…
The group moved down to the next hatch; this one double-sealed and leading up to another docking module like the one connected to the command module. According to Walker this docking area was better suited for transferring supplies and fuel from a shuttle or an unmanned cargo vehicle. He motioned to the lower hatch. "That leads to the storage and supply module, and below that is the MHD reactor. MHD, as Ann can tell you, Dr. Baker, stands for magnetohydrodynamics — a way of producing massive amounts of electromotive force in a very compact unit. We'll cut across here to engineering."
Engineering was much like the command center. "It's really the computer center," Walker told them. "The kitchen — uh, galley — is located here as well." He continued on, pointing to a hatch at one end of the computer module. "There is your office, Ann — the control module for your laser, Skybolt. Nobody's been in it except when it was connected and tied into the rest of the station last month."
They opened the hatches and entered the module — or tried to. Unlike all the other pressurized modules, the Skybolt control-and-experimentation center was choked with equipment, wiring, pipes, conduit and control consoles, with a lone work space tacked in a far corner. "Wh— where do I work?" Ann said. "I mean, where's my lab, my instruments, test gear? It's—"
"It's all there," Walker said, trying to sound upbeat. "But it's been compacted to fit into this one module. Your control console is over there, plus a few other panels on the ceiling." He understated, Ann thought. The main control consoles were on the module's ceiling, surrounded by built-in handholds and footrests. She forced a smile in Colonel Walker's direction, but she was getting dizzy just looking at the overhead console. "Welcome to Silver Tower."
CHAPTER 8
"All right, Mr. Collins," George Sahl, deputy director of operations of the Defense Intelligence Agency, said. "'You've got my attention — and apparetly the attention of your section chief." He looked warily at Preston Barnes, in charge of the KH-14 Block Three digital photo imagery satellite. "Spill it."
Jackson Collins, associate photo analyst under Barnes, cleared his throat and stepped up to Sahl. "Yes, sir. The Russians are going to invade Iran."
Barnes closed his eyes and muttered a "Collins-you-idiot" to himself and not audible to the others, he hoped. Collins noticed the deputy director's shoulders slumping. Before Sahl could say anything Barnes turned angrily toward his young photo interpreter. "Collins, didn't you ever learn how to give a proper report—?"
"Easy, Preston," Sahl said, raising a hand to silence his division chief. "I've scanned your report and your analysis, Mr. Collins. Now I want you to tell me. Briefly, please."
"Yes, sir… The military buildup around the southern TVD Headquarters at Tashkent is inconsistent with either a fall offensive in Afghanistan or the army's seasonal maneuvers scheduled for this month. The offensive—"
"What offensive?" Barnes said. "A CIA report circulated through the division last month about a suspected, unusually large-scale Russian push into Afghanistan sometime this fall."
Barnes shook his head. "The CIA calls every resupply mission to Afghanistan an offensive. Overland routes into the central highland have been cut off recently by bad weather and the Afghan government has all but folded its tents. Naturally the Russians have had to step up supply flights."
"But, sir, not with as many as six Condors… Those photos showed hangars large enough for An-124s—"
"Condors?" Sahl didn't like to hear that. "'Where did you see Condors in the southern military district?"
"It's… an educated guess, sir. Those large temporary hangars I mentioned in the report are large enough to accommodate Condors—"
"Or any other Soviet aircraft flying," Barnes said. Collins looked away — he'd never expected to have to fight off his section chief. "What else?" Sahl prompted him. "Your report mentioned the rail units. You counted forty percent more activity in the Tashkent yards. What about — that?"
"Yes, sir, the actual count is up thirty-seven percent from activity this same time last year, also several weeks prior to maneuvers, and up twenty-four percent from the Soviets' last real large-scale offensive into Afghanistan two years ago, when they put down the Qandahar uprising. And that had been the largest Soviet offensive since their invasion of Czechoslovakia. Whatever they're planning now, it'll be larger than either of those—"