Govorov activated his laser designator and swept it across the center beam of Armstrong Space Station. He had had only a few minutes to study the sketches of Armstrong Station before this flight, and those sketches had obviously been outdated. But some of the targets were obvious.
Such as space-based radar. One of the huge phased-arrays had been sheared off, but its mate on the underside center keel was still intact. Using the green-screen TV camera integral to the laser designator, he zoomed the picture in until the aiming reticle was centered on the huge control junction linking the radar antenna to the keel. Destroy this one junction box and the radar's steering, power and electronics went with it. He activated the arming panel, placed one gloved finger around the stick-mounted trigger and gently squeezed.
"Cabin pressurization zero. Fire in middeck spread to upper deck. Big hole in forward bulkhead. Three… bodies in middeck… Davis, Wallis and Montgomery. Montgomery is still strapped into his chair. They… they didn't have a chance."
Saint-Michael was leaning on an overhead handhold receiving Moyer's damage report of Enterprise. Seven dead on Enterprise. Seven dead… "Can you find the damage, Ted?"
"Yes, sir. Huge explosion somewhere in the lower deck. Might be a fuel-cell rupture. There's a big hole in the forward bulkhead. Looks like it goes clear through.
"Is it repairable?"
"I don't think so, not without a welder. Looks major."
Enterprise was gone. "Whatever the Russians shot at her, it was effective," Saint-Michael said to no one in particular. "Ted, report back here on the double."
"What should I do with the Enterprise crew? Just leave them here—?"
An ear-splitting sound like the crack of a whip echoed through the command module. The entire station began to vibrate. A warning message appeared on a screen surrounding the master SBR display. "We've lost the entire number-two SBR array," Jefferson said, scanning his instruments. "No signal from that side at all. "
"They've started," Walker said. "They're not going to stop until they've sawed this station to pieces."
"Moyer, get back here. All of you, report to the lifeboat," Saint-Michael ordered. "I'll set the thrusters to deorbit the station; we'll time it so that—"
A voice broke in over stationwide intercom on the CALL position: "Control, this is Skybolt. I think I have the laser operational again… I told you I was close to it…"
Saint-Michael was startled by Ann's voice. He paused half a second, then flipped a button on the communications panel. "You what? Skybolt's working?"
"I need you to switch control of the SBR back to, Skybolt from the Thor system. I can't do it back here. Switch the SBR over to—"
Ann was cut off by a loud bang and a warning horn blaring from the environmental control panel. "Control junction on the starboard radiator system," Jefferson said after checking the warning display.
"That's half our environmental system out."
"We can't risk it," Walker said. "A few more shots like that and we've had it." But Saint-Michael motioned him to be quiet.
"Ann, can Skybolt really be effective?"
"Baker error-trapped the system for me," she said. "I think the system will track targets now. I'm not sure if we trapped out the MHD ignition power problem, but—"
"We don't have the time, Jason," Walker broke in, his voice tight. "We've got to get to that lifeboat—"
Another loud bang; the station shuddered. The lights in the module dimmed for a moment and another environmental warning horn blared. The situation seemed too far gone to bother checking on the damage.
"Jason," Ann said. "You've got to do it now. It might already be too late.
"All right, damn it. We'll try."
Walker was about to continue to protest but Saint-Michael rode over him: "But not you five. I want all of you in the lifeboat. Immediately. I want you clear of the station when I fire the laser."
"You can't do it alone," Ann said. "The laser has to be fired from the Skybolt module and I need someone to monitor the SBR from up there. We may also need to move the station. I've got to stay here in the Skybolt module… "
Saint-Michael hesitated again, but he knew there was no other option. This was her play. "All right, Ann, stay in Skybolt. Walker, Marks, Jefferson, Moyer, report to the lifeboat."
Several more loud bangs and a major fuel-cell explosion had occurred by the time Walker reported that all remaining crewmembers of the crippled space station were sealed aboard the lifeboat.
Saint-Michael received Walker's acknowledgment, wished the men luck, then lifted a large plastic cover on a yellow-and-black-striped button at his commander's station. Instantly a series of explosive activators and self-contained hydraulic thrusters pushed the lifeboat free of its moorings and propelled it away from the station. Well, maybe somebody would live to tell what had happened here. And why…
"Lead. Watch out. Below you."
This time, Govorov easily spotted the object of Voloshin's warning. The long, silver, oblong vessel beneath the cargo-docking port jarred loose from its dock and moved quickly away from the station. In a few moments it was lost from view. "The rescue craft," Govorov radioed back to Voloshin.
"They've abandoned the station. It doesn't appear to have been jettisoned by accident."
"Should we consider boarding Armstrong, Lead?"
"No, I still think they'll fire the station's thrusters by remote control and deorbit the station. Stay in position and continue to pick off their station subsystems. If we have missiles left, we can target the pressurized modules."
As he talked Govorov noticed the station start to slowly revolve and he expertly maneuvered his Elektron to keep up with the station's slow rotation. It was not difficult to do, but the revolutions were a bit erratic — obviously the thrusters were no longer under computer control — and the station was revolving around the central keel, not along the pressurized module's axis.
Several pieces of the space-based radar array and other hunks of debris snapped off the keel and were sent crashing into the pressurized modules. It looked as if the station was tearing itself apart. They could save their Scimitar missiles for another sortie, Govorov decided.
Meanwhile, Voloshin had maintained his position in space and was watching the station revolve under him rather than trying to maintain his position in relation to it. The lowermost sections of the station were beginning to come into view now… He spotted the strange-looking device at the end of one of the lower pressurized modules — the Skybolt steerable mirror-housing. The mirror itself resembled a huge shiny bull's-eye.
As good a target as any, he thought as he activated his laser target-designator…
"That's the best I can do, Ann," Saint-Michael said over the intercom.
Talking was the least difficult thing to do with the POS mask on. The large curved glass faceplate distorted his vision and fogged up when he spoke or breathed hard. The hoses and interphone wires floating around his head obstructed his hands as well as. his vision. Trying to accomplish a task as delicate as steering an eight-hundred-ton space station was all but impossible.
"Can you hit the positive X axis just one shot?"
"It'll take me too long to fiddle with these controls," Saint-Michael told her. "If you can't do it, say so. We'll need time to get into spacesuits before the Russians blow this place. "
He was a prophet. A huge explosion rocked the station, sending him scrambling for another handhold. The impact felt as if it was only a few feet away. The lights flickered, steadied, flickered again, then blinked out. A few undamaged automatic power-failure lights snapped on. The station's spin seemed to accelerate, like a roller-coaster ride picking up speed at the crest of the incline…