Iceberg heard the transmission crackle in his headphones: "A Soyuz and a cargo vessel have lifted off successfully, Intrepid, and are en route to their rendezvous with you."
A wave of exhilaration washed over him. There was a chance to succeed now. A real chance. "Outstanding, Flite Centre," he radioed. "I'll be looking for them."
The Intrepid was now communicating with the Kaliningrad Flite Control Centre via the Kosmos 1700 satellite system, which allowed him to stay in constant contact. It was less secure than communicating with earth stations, but that didn't seem to matter much anymore. Besides, his transmissions were still scrambled.
"How do I communicate with your people who are coming up in the Soyuz?" asked Iceberg.
"You may transmit and receive on this same S-band frequency, Intrepid; but be aware, our Soyuz crew does not possess an encryption device that is compatible with yours, so you will have to transmit in the clear. Keep your communications to essentials."
"Roger, Flite Centre." Another thought occurred to him. "Are your people going to require my assistance outside the orbiter? If so, I need to start some oxygen prebreathing for
EVA."
"Negative, Intrepid. You remain inside the spacecraft."
"Roger, Flite Centre."
Iceberg scanned the horizon, looking for some sign of the Russians, but the tail plumes of the SL-4 and SL-14 boosters were much smaller than the Constellation's, and Iceberg couldn't detect them against the inky horizon.»
Cosmonauts Vasili Lubinin and Sergei Yemitov felt their spacecraft separate from the last stage of the SL-4 booster. They were in orbit now, and Lubinin threw the switch to deploy the spacecraft's solar panels. He went through a systems check to make sure the on-board electronics were working properly for the upcoming correction burn that would enable them to close in on the Intrepid.
Mission Commander Oleg Malyshev tried to ignore the troika that had become a permanent fixture in the Flite Centre. Popov, the KGB Chairman, and the General Secretary kept hovering around him like husbands whose wives were in labor.
"I have the correction bum computed, Commander," said the navigation officer through the intercom.
Thank God, thought the exhausted Malyshev. "Very well, transmit the data to the Soyuz. We will fire the cargo vessel's correction burn first, then the Soyuz. Are you ready?"
"Ready on the cargo vessel, Commander," replied the navigation officer. "It will be a short burn. There is only seventy kilometers' separation from the American spacecraft."
Malyshev wiped his sleeve across his sweaty forehead. "Very well. Fire at your discretion, Navigation Officer."
The ground track of the orbiter passed from darkness to daylight as the spacecraft looped under the bottom of the earth-high above the white frozen wastes of Antarctica. Inside the Intrepid, the psychotic Iceberg in human form scanned the space around him for the arrival of his rescuers. Flite Centre had told him the correction burns had been fired smoothly, and they should be coming close any second. He saw the torpedo-shaped cargo vessel first. The Intrepid was traveling in a heads-down position, and Iceberg tracked the Russian craft visually as it traveled underneath die orbiter and disappeared from view. He grabbed the hand controller and rolled the spacecraft so he could keep it in sight. Tiny maneuvering thrusters at the base of the cargo vessel flared, causing it to halt some three hundred yards from, and a little above, the American orbiter's position and attitude. Whatever heart Iceberg possessed leapt into his throat when he saw the Soyuz. There it was! He was going to make it!
The Soyuz pivoted and fired its braking thruster, and it came to rest not a hundred yards from the Intrepid. Iceberg moved his hand controller a little more so the orbiter's directional S-band nose antenna would be pointed directly at the Russian spacecraft. "Soyuz, this is Intrepid, do you read me? Over."
Lubinin switched radios, disengaged his voice scrambler, and began speaking in English. "We read you, Intrepid. Our ground control will jettison the launch shroud of the cargo ship in a moment. Stay off this channel until we have exited our capsule and gone into EVA. The radios on our EVA suits are much less powerful than the transmitters aboard our Soyuz, and we will be able to talk more freely. Do you understand?"
"Roger, Soyuz. Will comply. Intrepid, out."
Lubinin switched radios and engaged his on-board voice scrambler — a Soviet-made device that was much less sophisticated than, and incompatible with, the American Oracle scrambler — then began speaking in Russian again. "Flite Centre, this is Soyuz. We are in position. You may jettison the launch shroud on the cargo ship at your discretion."
"Roger, Soyuz. Stand by."
Yemitov watched the cargo vessel through the porthole in the descent module. He saw sparks pepper the seam of the shroud as the explosive bolts fired. He lifted his thumb to Lubinin and said, "Good."
"Flite Centre," radioed Lubinin, "we have separation of the shroud. We are prepared to go EVA at your command."
"We read you, Soyuz," came the reply. "You are cleared for EVA. Good luck."
Lubinin nodded to Yemitov, and the younger man unfastened his restraining seat straps. He kept his helmet visor closed so he would stay on pure oxygen and not breathe the nitrogen/oxygen atmosphere of the cabin.
Before astronauts went EVA they had to prebreathe pure oxygen for two hours to "wash" the nitrogen from their systems. Otherwise, the lower-pressure spacesuits would cause nitrogen bubbles to form in their bloodstreams, inflicting them with a deadly case of the bends.
Yemitov pointed at the hatch, and Lubinin checked the gauge. "Pressurized," said the pilot.
Yemitov spun the wheel and pulled down the lid. He then took a deep breath and disconnected his oxygen and intercom umbilicals that extended from underneath his seat. He pulled himself through the hatch and into the spherical orbital module, where he attached his oxygen line to the environmental portion of the EVA backpack. When the tiny gauge showed oxygen was flowing into his suit, he began breathing again. Yemitov flipped himself around and pulled the hatch closed, then struggled into his environmental gear. He wouldn't put on the maneuvering component of the backpack undl he was outside the spacecraft. He pulled the depressurization handle, and the module's atmosphere began venting into space. When the indicator light turned from red to green, he began turning the hatch wheel on the top of the sphere and carefully opened it. Then, with a gende hand, he pushed the maneuvering portion of the backpack outside, being careful not to bump it or lose its tether line. If he lost the backpack he wouldn't be able to maneuver in the void of space.
Once outside, Yemitov closed the hatch and began wrestiing into the maneuvering component. It was difficult to get the thing on by himself, but it could be done. Lubinin was inside, repres-surizing the orbital module. After some struggling, the component finally snapped into place. Yemitov flipped the appropriate switches and began testing his thrusters. He floated slowly away from the Soyuz for a short distance before stopping himself. He felt comfortable now — back in his own element. He propelled himself to the porthole of the descent module and gave Lubinin an "okay" sign. "Everything is fine, Vasilivich," he radioed.