"I'm honored to be aboard," replied Rice Check nervously as he watched the F-14's swing wing rotate into its swept-back position.
Pershing punched his mike button again. "Kansas City Center, this is Tango-Oscar-Mike one-one-four. You have a military flight plan and special clearance for our mission. Request permission to climb to four-seven thousand for supersonic vector on bearing zero-eight-seven, over."
There was a brief pause. "Roger, one-one-four. We have your flight plan. You are cleared and have no traffic in your immediate area except for your KC one-three-five. Over."
"Thank you, Center. One-one-four, out." Pershing switched to his flight communications frequency. "Okay, Sweet Thang, see you at four-seven thousand on my countdown… three… two… one… hit it!"
The afterburners on the fighters kicked in, and the two Tomcats streaked skyward in a 80-degree climb. Havelichek was heard to remark, "Shhheeeiiit!"
"An interesting problem" commented Ivan Pirdilenko, the Data Centre director.
"Problem?" There was apprehension in the General Secretary's voice. "Why is there a problem? Our missile can shoot down the American rescue shuttle if it is launched from their Florida cosmodrome. Is that not so?"
Pirdilenko pulled on his Vandyke beard. "Oh, yes, of course. We can certainly do that. But it is my understanding you do not wish to damage the American shuttle — the Intrepid, I believe you called it — which is already in orbit. Is that not correct?"
"Da," replied the General Secretary.
"Aha," said Pirdilenko. "Therein lies the problem."
General Secretary Vorontsky was becoming agitated, and his heavy features turned into a scowl. "I do not understand," he confessed.
Having sensed Popov's reluctance to employ the antisatellite weaponry if need be, KGB Chairman Kostiashak had decided it was best not to entrust those preparations to anyone but himself. He prevailed upon the General Secretary to fly with him to the Plesetsk Cosmodrome, where the Russian antisatellite resources had been hidden away from U.N. inspection teams — in violation of the AS AT treaty signed with the Americans. At Plesetsk they tracked down the Data Centre director, a gaunt, spidery man of fifty named Ivan Pirdilenko, who was unimpressed by the lofty status of his two visitors. However, he seemed fascinated by the technical puzzle they'd brought him. It was Pirdilenko and his staff who formulated and programmed the orbital paths of the seventy or so satellites that lifted off from Plesetsk every year. He was also one of the leading authorities on Soviet ASAT technology, having designed the weapon's guidance system.
"It is really quite simple," Pirdilenko observed. "You said the American rescue shuttle would undoubtedly try to rendezvous with the Intrepid spacecraft as soon after launch as possible."
The General Secretary nodded.
Pirdilenko rose from his desk, which was surrounded by Kosmos computers and disk drives. "I will explain," he said patiently, then motioned to the KGB chieftan. "What is your name?"
The small man exhaled a puff of Pall Mall smoke. "Kostiashak," he replied.
The Data Centre director sounded like a strict headmaster. "Come over here… and put out that cigarette. There is no smoking in the Centre."
Kostiashak obediently crushed out his cigarette and stepped over to Pirdilenko.
"Now then, General Secretary," began Pirdilenko, "this is the problem. Let us say that Kostiashak here is the rescue shuttle launching from Florida." Pirdilenko took several steps back, putting some space between himself and Kostiashak. "Let us further assume that / am the Intrepid, traveling in orbit at seven kilometers per second. Since the initial lift-off and ascent of the rescue shuttle is relatively slow, Kostiashak must launch ahead of me if we are to rendezvous. Otherwise, I will pass him… Once he has launched and we have achieved our rendezvous" — Pirdilenko walked up until he was abreast of the little man—"it will be impossible to destroy the rescue vessel without damaging the Intrepid as well. The two spacecraft will be traveling close together, and our antisatellite weapon is not, ah, 'surgical' as the Americans say. It scatters pellets in a wide pattern, and both spacecraft would undoubtedly be hit." The director pulled at his Vandyke beard again. "In order to destroy the rescue vessel without damaging the Intrepid spacecraft, we must strike the rescue shuttle after it has launched from Florida and is in the ascent phase, but before it makes rendezvous with the Intrepid— like my example with Kostiashak here. That is a terribly small time window in which to identify, track, launch, and intercept the target… and we have never attempted any test that simulates such an occurrence. Now do you understand the problem, General Secretary?"
Vorontsky was not pleased. "I am afraid I do, Comrade."
Pirdilenko continued, "Adding to this problem is the fact that the Americans will undoubtedly launch from their Florida cosmodrome when the Intrepid's orbit intersects their location." The Data Centre director went to a globe on his desk that had a maneuverable ring around it, giving it the appearance of a gyroscope. He placed the ring over Florida in an approximate polar orbit. "That orbit is somewhat out of range of Plesetsk — we would have to wait two, perhaps three, hours until we passed under their orbital path to launch our AS AT missile. By then the two shuttles would have had ample time to achieve their rendezvous."
General Secretary Vorontsky looked shaken, and Kostiashak was wary when he asked, "Are you saying there is no way of stopping the rescue shuttle without destroying the Intrepid as well?"
Pirdilenko took off his glasses and cleaned them with the tail of his white laboratory coat. "Ordinarily, yes. But in this case we have an extraordinary advantage. This is not like a game of chess, for we know what our opponent's next move will be, and we can anticipate that move to… checkmate him, if you will.'' He replaced his glasses.
The KGB chieftain spoke but one word: "How?"
Pirdilenko seemed unconcerned that lives were at stake. He saw it simply as a technical challenge — like a chess match. He motioned the two men to return to the globe on his desk. "Come closer," he beckoned, and for the next ten minutes he explained in patient detail how his plan would work — how he would spring his checkmate and blow the Constellation out of the sky without harming the Intrepid. When he finished, the General Secretary was beaming once again.
"Brilliant," proclaimed the former hammer thrower.
Kostiashak nodded agreement.
"Tell us, is there anything you require?" asked the General Secretary. "Anything at all?"
Pirdilenko knew what he needed. "I shall require the orbital data from the Aerospace Defense Warning Centre so I can compute the intercept vectors and program the flite data into the weapon's on-board computer."
Vorontsky was absolutely floating at this point. He'd always been intoxicated with technology. "Amazing. You mean you can actually program a computer that will fly into space and guide this antisatellite weapon?"
Pirdilenko pulled open his desk drawer. "Of course, General Secretary. Actually, we program the flite instructions onto a silicon chip such as this" — he pulled out a sample from the drawer and held it in his hand—"and insert the chip into the onboard circuitry."