Lubinin and Yemitov continued thrusting backward and upward until they obtained a better perspective on their construction efforts. Their maneuvering backpacks were a modified version of the genuine spacepack. The underwater model produced thrusting squirts of water with small internal propellers, while the spacepack propelled itself with tiny jets of pressurized nitrogen. The movements of the cosmonauts were slower and more cumbersome in the water than they would be in the vacuum of space, but it was the best simulation that could be manufactured on earth.
The two men hovered above the dome and smiled at each other through their clear plastic helmets. They had assembled the dome swiftly and precisely, making the most of their time, which was limited by the oxygen in their life-support tanks. Pilot cosmonauts like Lubinin and Yemitov typically received more cross training — like the dome-assembly exercise — than their American counterparts, and there were two reasons for this. For one, the primary American space vehicle was the shutde, which was much more complex to pilot than the Soviet Soyuz, and therefore the flight-training demands on the American shuttle pilots consumed the bulk of their time. The other reason was that some Soyuz models could carry only two people; there simply wasn't room for a third mission specialist. So Lubinin and Yemitov spent a good deal of time in the huge training tank, carrying out exercises to prepare them for extravehicular activity outside the spacecraft. Someday the Rodina would build her own Star Wars platform, and when that day came, they'd be ready.
"Excellent work, Comrades," commented the controller. "You may exit the tank and take some refreshment."
The two men smiled again and began propelling themselves toward the rim of the tank, looking otherworldly in their bulky spacesuits. Just below the rim, they lowered themselves onto an elevator platform and shut down their backpack thrusters. Then they helped each other disengage the maneuvering sections of their backpacks from the life-support sections and placed the equipment by their feet. "We are in position," said Lubinin. '' Hoist away.'' The controller threw a switch on his console and the platform heaved the cosmonauts out of the water. The two men groaned as the weight of the suits settled on them for the first time in over an hour.
Technicians helped the two men off the platform and onto the staging area, where their helmets were removed. The cosmonauts experienced a little light-headedness as they went from a pure-oxygen environment to a normal nitrogen/oxygen mix. The white-coated technicians had begun the unclasping and unzipping process on the suits when the tank controller poked his head through the door. "Lubinin and Yemitov. I just received a call. General Popov wants to see the two of you in his office immediately."
The cosmonauts looked at each other, and as well as he could, Yemitov shrugged in his spacesuit to indicate he had no idea what the summons was about.
"Very well," said Lubinin. "Tell the Comrade General's office we will be there as soon as we get out of these things and change." The controller nodded and disappeared.
Doffing the suits took another five minutes. The cosmonauts then adjourned to the locker room before peeling off the final layer of Spandex body garments. Chilled water passed through plastic tubes woven into the Spandex suit to keep the cosmonauts cool; yet in spite of the coolant, they sweated while they worked. Yemitov muttered to himself that the foul smell sometimes encountered inside a spacesuit certainly took some of the glamour out of being a star voyager. After a quick shower the two men put on their workaday flite suits and fur-lined coats, then walked out of the simulator complex toward the headquarters building. A recent snowfall had covered the campuslike grounds with a white blanket.
The simulator complex building housed not only the enormous water tank but also the shuttle simulator and mockups of the Soyuz spacecraft. And it was just one piece of the sprawling campus known as Star City, located outside Moscow. If given a choice, Russians tend to gravitate toward single, huge enterprises rather than smaller, multiple endeavors — and Star City was a prime example. It was the focal point for cosmonaut and spaceflight training and contained the simulator complex, administrative office buildings, an education center, athletic facilities, laboratories, a movie theater, and living quarters for the cosmonauts and their families. The creature comforts enjoyed here were among the best the Soviet Union had to offer, including special shops that carried scarce Western goods. An indication of the cosmonauts' fine life-style was the fact that virtually no black market existed at Star City, and it was not unusual to find a VCR in some of the apartments. In short, cosmonauts had a pretty good deal by Soviet standards, and an emergency summons from Popov could mean something was amiss.
As they husded across the grounds, Lubinin looked like a burly football guard running interference for the nimble Yemi-tov. The older cosmonaut was big-boned, with dark, swarthy features, while Yemitov was compact, trim, and blond, and his blue eyes gave him a look of vulnerability.
Lubinin read his comrade's thoughts. "Do not worry, Ser-geivich," he comforted. "I am certain it is nothing serious."
Yemitov looked at his friend skeptically, but didn't contradict him. "I hope you are right. I would not want anything to go wrong just now. Sasha… she, she is pregnant."
Lubinin stopped in midstride. "Sergei! Why did you not tell me? This is joyous!" He embraced his friend. "Now do not worry. I am sure everything is all right. If not, I shall make it right." It was a boast, but one that Lubinin could probably back up. With the Russians' two top shuttle crews dead, he and Yemitov were now considered the "hot" team in the cosmonaut corps. Yemitov had nothing to fear about his position. In fact, it was because of his proficiency that he was being summoned to Popov's office.
The two cosmonauts walked into the glass office building and took the elevator to the eighth floor, where Popov's male secretary pointed toward the general's office and said, "Quickly." The cosmonauts walked in and saw the stocky Popov sitting behind the desk, just hanging up the phone. They were shocked by his appearance. The general looked like hell.
The aide closed the door behind them.
"Vasili… Sergei… Sit down," began Popov. "I have a mission for you. Something you cannot imagine. From this moment forward you are totally incommunicado. No contact with anyone other than mission personnel. Is that clear? What you are about to undertake is surely dangerous, but the two of you are the best qualified for this task and I do not have the luxury to ask you to volunteer. You are needed now. Are you prepared to do your duty?"
The two cosmonauts looked at each other, then back at Popov, and nodded.
Popov nodded as well, and said, "Good." Then he proceeded to brief them on how they were going to lasso an American space shuttle and bring it down to the Baikonur Cosmodrome.
Two jaws dropped. It was Yemitov who recovered first. "You mean we may actually capture an American shuttle?" he asked incredulously.
"Not just the shuttle," said Popov, "but the payload as well, which contains some critical components for their space defense platform. It will be a windfall beyond our imagination."
"Incredible," whispered Lubinin, before regaining enough composure to ask, "You said the pilot killed the two other American crewmen on board?"
"Da," replied Popov. He did not amplify the statement, for there was nothing else to say.