by Dale Brown
"On an entirely different front," Czilikov went on, "we will take command. And, sir, when that happens we will win much, much more than Persia and the Transcaucasus. . . ."
TYURATAM, USSR.
He tried to be patient and gentle in his lovemaking, but he was too keyed up, too mindful of what the next day might bring. Alesander Govorov resisted his young wife's spirited foreplay and took her quickly-almost savagely. She strived to match his intensity, to counter with a frenzy of her own, but she couldn't fake her orgasm fast enough. He withdrew from her, wrapped his powerful arms around her chest as he lay behind her on his left side, then kissed the back of her neck as an unspoken apology for his clumsiness. In less than a minute he fell asleep. She pulled his arms around her tighter, accepting his apology. There would be other nights. She remembered the good ones. They were worth waiting for....
The ringing telephone jarred his eyes open. He swung his feet to the carpeted floor and stood, feeling not at all fatigued despite the few short hours of sleep. He picked up the phone and began speaking to Gulaev. "Yes. Yes, I see.... Have the report ready for me. I'll be there immediately.-
Govorov's wife did not get out of bed, although she was wide awake as he dressed, getting into his dark gray flight suit. She did not want to see him hurrying off to Glowing Star. If for any reason he did not return, she wanted to remember him the way he hadbeen the night before---strong but vulnerable, impatient but sensitive, a loving, caring husband, an imperfect man. Much more than a soldier, though she was careful not to let him know such thoughts. They would have embarrassed him. . . .
General Govorov came into the Space Combat operations center at Tyuratam. at a pace that would have left most men short of breath. Gulaev had to rush to keep up with him as they hurried into the general's office. Govorov was already holding out his hand for the Operation Alpha report as his subordinate closed the door. "It appears the Sary Shagan laser has been even more effective than we hoped, sir," Gulaev.said as he passed the space defense commander a sheet of computer printouts bound in a notebook. "The station's orbit is much more erratic than before, which suggests a guidance or propulsion malfunction. Also, just a few hours ago we detected several objects near the station. Small in size, no propulsion, very hot."
Govorov studied the printouts, looked up at Gulaev. "Debris?" "That's my guess, sir." Govorov looked down at the printout again, nodding in approval as his eyes scanned the columns of numbers. It seemed they'd managed to cripple the vaunted Armstrong Space Station, after all. It wasn't out of control yet-he would have received a report about a rescue mission-but it was damaged. Vulnerable.
A quick look at the rest of Gulaev's report brought no pleasure. "Our attacks have stopped?" "Temporarily, sir. For safety's sake, Colonel Sokilev at Sary Shagan has limited the laser firing schedule to a fiveburst volley every eight hours--- "But my orders were to fire continuously. Why were they countermanded?" "The pulses generated by the facility are tremendously powerful. There was a problem with some of the computer circuits shorting. The circuits are reportedly fixed, but Sokilev feels continuous firing carries too great a risk-" "I should have been consulted. Tell Sokilev that if he goes against my command again, he will be replaced. Also tell him that I expect Operation Beta to be put into effect within the hour. Armstrong is about to pass below the horizon. If we can destroy the Americans' only other eye on the region, NORAD's
launch-detection satellite, we will be able to get very close to the space station without ever being detected." "But what about Armstrong's Thor missiles, sir? Even if the Americans only have minutes to react, they'll be able to target the spaceplanes." "Yes, the Thors would be a problem ... if we didn't have the means to get Armstrong to expend its arsenal." "You mean the Gorgons?" "Why not? It doesn't matter if they are all destroyed. The point is, they will draw off Armstrong's fire and allow Voloshin and me to get within range of the station."
Gulaev nodded. "I'll see to the Gorgons immediately, sir. I I
"Have a firing disposition report ready for me in half an hour." Gulaev saluted and turned to leave the office. "And Gulaev. . . . "
The younger officer turned around. "Sir?" "I'll be leaving for the launch pad in fifteen minutes. See that I'm not disturbed until then. "
Gulaev nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him. As he did Govorov got up from his desk and stood by a large window overlooking the launch site. From there he could see the maintenance crews completing the final checks on the SL-16s. It was a beautiful day, the general thought to himself, a perfect day to ride a fireball into the sky. He couldn't wait to get started.
ARMSTRONG SPACE STATION
Jason Saint-Michael's warning to his crew not to get too cocky about the role the station had played in the invasion of Bandar-Abbas seemed prophetic now as he clicked his microphone to the off position and reflected on the message he had just received from Space Command. The Russians had apparently just used their laser to knock out an American geosyn-
chronous TRW Block 750 infra-red launch detection satellite, leaving Space Command and NORAD with no missile launch detection for south-central Asia. It didn't take a genius to guess what would happen next. Odds were that at that very moment the Gorgon missiles at Tyuratarn were being readied for launch.
Which dictated he do . . . what? He had been about to order Jerrod Will to discontinue Enterprise's orbit around the station and redock, so that Ann and Kevin Baker, who had also made the decision to leave, could be sent back to Earth. But he wasn't so sure now that he shouldn't evacuate most of the personnel ...
He mentally kicked himself for not getting Ann off the station earlier. Even
though it bothered him to think of her gone, it bothered him much more to think she might be in serious danger. He just hoped Will could get the Enterprise docked and personnel aboard before he had to contend with those missiles headed their way. At least Will and Sontag had flown their most recent resupply mission to the station without Marty Schultz, so there would be that much more room in the cramped Shuttle. The hard part was going to be deciding who should go and who should stay.
Saint-Michael keyed his microphone. "Enterprise, what's your status?" "Still orbiting the station, per your orders, General," Will said. "What's up?" "More trouble, I'm aftaid. I want you to redock immediately." "Will Airlines copies," Jerrod said as he activated his forward thrusters. He turned to Sontag as if to say what now? but the copilot merely shook his head. They'd have their answers soon enough.
By the time Enterprise had docked with the station and Will had made his way to the command module, SaintMichael had already received two more messages from Space Command. As Will stepped through the module hatch the general acknowledged him with a nod and continued talking to Ann, who had overheard the exchange between SaintMichael and the controller at Falcon Air Force Station in Colorado Springs.
"General," she said, "it looks like the station's going to be attacked. Skybolt could help. I'm sure I've just about solved-- "No arguments, please." "But-" "Damn it, Ann, report to Enterprise now."
This time there was no argument. As she left the commandmodule hatch, Will moved next to Saint-Michael. "General, we're ready to fly, if that's what you want. I've got Yemana rigging up for a token OMS and RCS refueling-just a safety margin for us. Won't take long. Kelly is helping him in the docking adapter. What have we got?" "Eight Soviet orbiting vehicles just entered orbits similar to ours," Saint-Michael told him. "We lost track of them, but ground tracking stations are keeping an eye on them." "Launched from Tyuratam?" "Yes, two from the Glowing Star area, the rest from the antisatellite area at Baikenour." "Gorgons?"
Saint-Michael nodded. "That's MY guess.,, -Sounds like they popped the whole ASAT alert fleet. What about the two from Glowing Star? Do you think they're manned?" "Don't know. They've had time to move two more Gorgons to Glowing Star, but I think our intelligence would've reported that." "What are our people doing in the gulf? Any major movement?" "None. Matter of fact, most units on land and in the gulf appe
ar frozen. The Russians haven't retreated, but they're not ad ,vancing either. They may be reassessing." "Or they may be waiting for Silver Tower to get blasted out of the sky before finishing the job of overrunning Iran," Will said. "We'd better get loaded up ...... "I can't just abandon the station completely, " Saint-Michael said, checking the system status readouts. "Not yet, not if the Russians are gearing up for a major offensive. We have to be there when they kick it off." "General, it might only take one more shot of that laser'or one direct hit from a Gorgon to put you out of commission.
One shot on a fuel tank or in your engineering module and whoever's left on board will be in deep-- "We've got the lifeboat. . . . " "The lifeboat? Excuse me, but the term 'lifeboat' applied to that hunk of tin out there was coined for the congressman and senators who yakked about having a rescue craft but who wouldn't put up the money for more shuttles or spaceplanes. You know that, sir. We both know it's not a lifeboat-it's more like a piece of waterlogged driftwood. It leaks like a bad condom and it probably wouldn't stand the stress of recovery in a shuttle. It's craziness to rely on it." "Some speech-and maybe all true. But it doesn't matter.... It's what we've
got to do the job. This is an emergency-" "Don't create another one, then. "Jen-od, I hear you. That's it. Take care of your ship and your passengers. I'll cut the crew on the station down to two or three. You take the rest back to Vandenburg or Edwards. Now move it. We haven't got, much time."
As Will exited the module, Colonels Marks and Walker approached Saint-Michael. Marks handed the general a computer printout. "Bad news, Skipper. My calculations show that we only have a day and a half s worth of fuel. Tops. "
Saint-Michael scanned the fuel figures. "Even with a reduced crew. No experiments? Reduced power usage?" "Those figures include all that, plus only a conservative estimate on the necessary fuel consumption with the lost diruster-it could be worse than those numbers. " "We'll need almost four-a-week reftielings at this rate," Saint-Michael said, "unless we get that thruster working-"
Walker cut in. "General, there's another option ...... "I know, return to a standard polar circular orbit. Stop the retracking thruster course corrections. But then we'd have only a few minutes over the Persian Gulf every few hours. We'd be almost useless as a surveillance platform. " "But we'd be secure, General. This station is a strategic defense laboratory, not really a surveillance satellite. We've proved our value in the first defense of Iran and the Persian Gulf region, but now the game has changed. We're the target, a major target. If the Russians I shoot down this station,
the United States has lost a lot more than just an SBR platform.
Saint-Michael stayed silent, seemingly lost in thought. Walker sensed the shift in the general's thinking and nodded to Marks, who said, "At Jim's request, sir, I've worked up the fuel considerations involved in putting us back in polar orbit. " He handed S4int-Michacl another printout. "We would have enough fuel to reestablish the new orbit, and we wouldn't be dependent on so many refuelings-" "Skipper, warning message from Space Command tracking, " Moyer broke in through the stationwide intercom. "Orbiting vehicle within five miles vertically and one hundred miles laterally from the station."
Saint-Michael quickly sat back in his commander's seat; Walker returned to his position beside Jefferson on the master SBR display.
Saint-Michael keyed the intercom. "Jerrod, status of your refueling. I I
"Few more minutes."
-you're out of time, Jerrod. Attention on the station. Emergency. Discontinue all refueling operations. AD crewmen except command module personnel report aboard Enterprise immediately. This station is on red alert. Jake, discontinue SBR earth surveillance. Launch commit all Thor interceptors for station defense. " He turned to Walker. "Jim, can you handle the Space Command relays and back up Jake on the SBR board?" "Sure thing." "Okay. Moyer, get into a space suit. You're our life insurance." The young tech nodded and hurried off to where one of the space suits had temporarily been stowed in a corner of the command module. "I want rescue balls within immediate reach. I I
"Space command tracking vehicle within two miles vertical, sixty miles horizontal," Walker reported. "Tracking re-
ports vehicle is under power and maneuvering." "Jerrod, get Ente?prise the hell out of here." "Tracidrig reports three nwre vehicles maneuvering within-9' "Ann isn't on board yet, Jason."
Saint-Michael got both transmissions at the same time, pressed his earset closer to hear better. "Say again, Jerrod - "
Will repeated the message. Before Saint-Michael could explode he heard, "Fifty miles, now at our altitude. Collis on course. Repeat, collision course. "
I 'What the hell. . . . " Saint-Michael turned quickly to station-wide speaker intercom. "Ann Page, report to the command module immediately. Acknowledge."
No reply. The general knew he had to force himself to put her out of his mind and concentrate on the attack. He turned back around toward the master
SBR display. "Jake. . . ." "SBR lock-on, Skipper. Laser target discrimination in progress. I I
Tethered one hundred yards below Silver Tower, the Thor space-based interceptor-missile garage had obeyed the steering commands sent to it by the station's powerful phased-array radar and had pointed the business end of the garage toward the oncoming antisatellite vehicle. When the SBR locked on, it also slaved a neutral particle-beam laser projector onto the Soviet space vehicle. At that point the laser illuminated the three-ton Gorgon missile, and special sensors analyzed the reflected laser energy. A solid object large enough to damage the station would reflect a different wavelength of energy than a less substantial, lightweight decoy. Once the decoys were discovered, Armstrong's weapons could be employed against only those objects that were a real threat to the station. The whole process, from lock-on to lethal target verification, had taken only seconds. "Forty miles ... thirty miles ... target discrimination is lethal positive. Thor one auto launch ......
After launch commit was given, the missile's last check was target discrimination. Once targets were checked as lethal, the SBR then automatically issued attack commands to the Thor missiles. The first Thor interceptor missile shot free of its garage, accelerating rapidly to its top speed of over four miles per second. The one-hundred-foot diameter steel mesh net had hardly fully deployed when it hit the first Gorgon ASAT vehicle head-on. "Direct hit. " But there were no victory cheers. This wasn't,
after all, a planned exercise like their first operational test with friendly Trident D-5 missiles. "Transmit warning message to Space Command, Mission Control, and JCS,- Saint-Michael said. "Tell them we are engaging-"
A loud bang and a warning buzzer sounded from the environmental control panel. "What the hell was that ... ?" "Rupture in the Skylab module," Marks reported. "Rapid pressure loss ... almost zero now ...... "Jason, this is Will on Enterprise. We were hit by projectiles from that Gorgon just before it was destroyed. Minor damage to our right wing leading edge."
-SBR has multiple inbound targets locked on," Jefferson reported. "Range eighty miles. Target discrimination in progress. I I
"Cabin pressurization in rec section of Skylab, module down to zero," Marks updated. "Skylab module sealed off. I think we took one of those Gorgon projectiles."
Saint-Michael looked grim. "Damn it, we've got to get Enterprise out of here." He switched to stationwide intercom. "Ann, where are you? Report, damn it."
Silence. "Target discrimination lethal positive for three inbounds-" Jefferson had just finished his report when his computer monitors showed three automatic Thor missile launches. "Thors two, three, and four away ... straight track. . . . " "Space Command acknowledges our warning message." "Direct hit on number two ... miss on four. Miss on number four-" "Manual launch," Saint-Michael called out. "Jake, you got it."
Jefferson's fingers manipulated his control board. "Thor five away. Reacquire target four.... Switching to auto track-" "Target three direct hit." Followed by dozens of bangs and scraping noises on the hull and throughout the station.
"More flak from those Gorgons," Marks reported. He checked the environmental control panel. "Leaks in the upper connecting tunnel. Cargo shovel defueling system has a shortcircuit. Major damage throughout the Skylab module."
11SBR tracking four inbounds," Walker said. "Range of closest target eighty miles-" "Snared target number four," from Jefferson. His dark blue flight suit was already soaked with sweat. "Only five more Thors," Saint-Michael said. "I don't like the way the math is working out here." "We've got ten more Thors stored on the keel," Walker reminded him. "They might as well be on earth," the general said. "We've got no one to load them onto the garage." "Enterprise could do it ...... "It would take too long to load those missiles with the manipulator arm. If we only had-- "I'll go," Moyer said suddenly. "Shouldn't take me too long. . . . " "It'll take you all day to load ten
missiles by yourself," Walker told him. :'At least I can load a few. 'We can't spare you," Saint-Michael said. "If we run out of missiles and we're still under attack, we abandon the station. Period-- "Target discriminating on four inbounds ... showing two decoys. Repeat, tracking two decoys." "Decoys?" Marks said. "They put decoys on an ASAT launcher?" "A decoy can still do damage." "But we don't have the Thors to spare," Saint-Michael told Walker. "Target the other two." "Rog.... Selective targeting option running.... Thors six and seven away. . . , " "Warning message, Skipper," Walker broke in. "Recheck on that last target discrimination. Now showing all four as lethal positive."
Saint-Michael looked dead ahead. "Launch commit on all targets. Check the neutral-particle projector, find out what happened--- "Thors eight and nine away. Straight track. "Direct hit on targets five and six. . . . " "Miss on target seven, clean miss on seven."
"Manual launch Thor ten," Saint-Michael. ordered Jefferson. "Make this one count, Jake."
No shit, Jefferson thought, but said nothing as he ejected the last Thor interceptor missile and sent it toward its target. "All Thors away." "Miss on target eight!"