"Grigory Vostov?" demanded the colonel.
"Da," said the scientist tentatively. "What is the meaning of this?"
"You will get dressed and come with us immediately."
"But why? What is happening?"
The colonel had been told he had carte blanche to expedite Vostov's collection. "Now, Comrade! Or you will not live to see the dawn."
Vostov blinked with his mouth open and took a couple of reflexive steps backward. He was often arrogant with his own staff — it was his right, after all — but he sensed this was not the time for a confrontation, nor were these the people with whom to have one. Retreating back to his bedroom, he quickly threw on some clothes and an overcoat and told his wife to keep quiet.
Downstairs the KGB colonel shoved him into a waiting Zhi-guli sedan. The car tore through the frozen slush and headed toward Kaliningrad, just north of the city.
By God, this was an outrage! Vostov thought, and his old arrogance began to resurface. His friend Gudenov on the Politburo would hear about this!… Maybe even the General Secretary himself would be told. Vostov was the Chief Designer of the Soviet Union. One of the most prestigious positions in the Rodina and the Academy of Sciences. He certainly would not let a Chekist colonel get the better of him. Didn't this fool know that he — Vostov — was a national treasure?
On October 4, 1957, an SL-1 booster lifted off the Baikonur launch pad and heaved a twenty-seven-pound spherical object into orbit. An object which the world came to know as Sputnik. The guiding force behind this pioneering scientific achievement was, for many years, a mysterious figure to the West. The Soviets took special pains to keep everything about this man cloaked in secrecy, and for over a decade they would refer to him only by his title of Chief Designer. In fact, his name was Sergei P. Korolev, and in many respects he was the Russian counterpart to the Americans' Werner von Braun. His skills were legendary in scope, and almost single-handedly he brought the Russian space program to world prominence. Had it not been for Korolev's extraordinary talents, the Soviet space effort might still be on a par with Albania's.
On that glorious day in 1957, Vostov had been a junior engineer on Korolev's staff, and his star had risen steadily ever since. Vostov was now the Russian authority on rocketry and propulsion systems, and possessed a resume that was the envy of the Soviet Academy of Sciences — he'd been Venus Lander chief engineer, project director for the Salyut and Mir space stations, and designer of the Energia heavy-lift booster vehicle.
That last one — the Energia booster — had been the only bright spot of the Soviet shuttle program. The Energia had successfully heaved the Buran and Suslov aloft. It was the orbiters' reentry design that had failed somehow; and, luckily for Vostov, he'd had nothing to do with that.
Because of his track record and his noninvolvement with the orbiter design, a month earlier Vostov had been anointed with the coveted title of his former mentor. He became the new Chief Designer of the Soviet Union.
Along with the title, he was given full authority to find out what was wrong with the Soviet shuttle and fix it. Well, he'd soon put things right there… he hoped. Even Vostov had to admit the previous team of shuttle engineers were very competent… and they had disappeared, along with General Shenko. Vostov's technical expertise was in rocketry and propulsion, not aeronautics. Surely they didn't hold him responsible for the shuttle's failure. They'd just made him Chief Designer, hadn't they? Hmmpff. Well, Gudenov of the Politburo would hear about this.
The Zhiguli wheeled to a stop outside the Flite Control Centre. Vostov was hustled inside and literally shoved through a conference-room door by the burly KGB sergeant. He was confronted by three men across a long table, which was covered with unrolled engineering diagrams. The scene astonished him. In the center was the insufferable Popov, looking unshaven and fatigued in a wrinkled uniform. On his right was a small, dark-complected man in a double-breasted suit; Vostov knew the man only by reputation but recognized him. Then the Chief Designer's heart skipped a beat. On Popov's left was… was…
The General Secretary barked, "Get over here, Vostov!" The Chief Designer did as he was told. Lord in heaven. Not even Gudenov could help him now.
"Listen to me, Chief Designer," implored Popov. "Listen and do not interrupt. We cannot waste a single second." Little love was lost between the two men. "An American shuttle — the Intrepid — was launched seven hours ago from Vandenbeig. A loyal Soviet was inserted on board as a member of the crew. He has killed the other crew members, and the shuttle is now controlled by our man. Do you understand what I am saying, Vostov?"
The Chief Designer was stunned, but gave a quick nod. However, his acknowledgment did not mean he believed what he heard. How could something like this happen and he not know of it? This couldn't be real. It had to be a dream.
"Our man controls the spacecraft, but something happened," continued Popov. "Pertiaps there was a struggle. The circuit board controlling the retro rockets was damaged, and he cannot fire them. He is stuck up there, Vostov. Do you understand? Stuck up there. And we — you — have to get him down before the Americans respond. Is that clear?"
Another curt nod. This was no dream. It was a nightmare.
Popov grabbed the diagrams in front of him. "As we both know, these are the mechanical drawings of the American shuttle, based on information the Comrade Chairman's Technical Directorate has provided us over the years." Popov's finger pointed to the posterior view of the orbiter. "The American shuttle has three large main engine rocket nozzles and two smaller retro-rocket nozzles. They are all useless. Is it possible to fabricate some kind of engine and attach it to the tail to bring it down? Tell me, Chief Designer. Tell me."
For Vostov it was almost too much. The sudden awakening, the drive in the night, the KGB, the General Secretary, and the American shuttle they were trying to… to… hijack! Vostov could only gape.
"We are waiting for your answer, Chief Designer." The Chairman's words sailed across the table like a viper's hiss. "You would not want to meet the same end as General Shenko."
Vostov gulped and tried to get a grip on himself. His engineering talents had brought him this far. They would extricate him from this predicament. He pulled the diagram toward him and studied it for a few moments. Start with information, he told himself. Obtain accurate data. "What is the shuttle's altitude?"
Popov was quick with his response. "Circular orbit. Altitude two zero three kilometers."
Well, thought the Chief Designer, that made things infinitely easier. If the shuttle had been in a higher orbit it would have been an impossible task for a — what was the American expression? — "jerry-rigged" device to bring the orbiter down. "Are his pitch and yaw thrusters still working?"
"Da," replied Popov.
Vostov stared at the diagram. God in heaven! To capture an American shuttle! If he could bring this off, he could well be appointed to the Politburo. They could take the American spacecraft apart and find out what was wrong with their own orbiter. Vostov began to grasp the import of the opportunity. "Leave me alone for a few minutes," he commanded.
Popov jerked his head, indicating the three men should leave the room. They walked into the hallway, leaving the Chief Designer transfixed before the engineering drawings.