Silver Tower
Page 22
The aiming reticle rested on the first large object in viewthe underside of the crew compartment of the space shuttle Enterprise....
ARMSTRONG SPACE STATION
"They're maneuvering back to their 'original positions, General. "
Saint-Michael, already shocked by the report on Baker and Yemana, was motioning Jefferson, Marks and Walker toward the hatch to the main connecting tunnel. "Get on board Enterprise. They're going to start tearing this station apart with those missiles. Moyer, report to.-I I
A sudden explosion thr-ew all in the command module to the wall. A large red light began blinking over the hatch leading to the main connecting tunnel. "Fire in the connecting tunnel....
Saint-Michael helped Walker to his feet, then retrieved his earset. "Enterprise. Emergency. Fire in the connecting tunnel. Prepare for emergency disconnect." "Jason." The voice belonged to Jerrod Will aboard the shuttle Enterprise. "Under attack . . . rapid decompression. . . . " But Will, Sontag and the other crewmen aboard Enterprise had no time left.
The Scimitar missile plowed through the lower deck of the pressurized crew compartment of Enterprise, tearing apart a fuel cell and creating a massive hydrogen-oxygen explosion. Within a hundredth of a second, the lower and middeck sections of Enterprise were aflame. Davis, Wallis and Montgomery died instantly.
The missile pierced the middeck, deflected off an aluminum spar, blew through the forward cabin bulkhead and went through the RCS engine pod on the nose of the shuttle. The exploding hydrazine and nitrogen tetroxide fuel tanks in the RCS pod dissipated the Scimitar missile's remaining energy, but the damage had already been done.
Without a space suit or pressurized cabin providing a protective layer of air pressure around their bodies, the temperature of the four remaining living crewmen's bodies bubbled the dissolved gases in their blood out of solution, exploding the blood vessels in their bodies. Within a few long, agonizing minutes, in the fteqing-cold depths of space, Will, Sontag, Bayles, and Kelly boiled to death.
"Will." Saint-Nfichael detached himself from the Velcro near the master SBR display and propelled himself over to the hatch leading to the main connecting tunnel.He hit the button to open the hatch: nothing. The special fire- and smokedetection interlocks built into the hatch automatically closed and locked the hatch if fire or smoke was present.
Saint-Michael turned to Marks. "Wayne, decompress the connecting tunnel down to the docking module. Moyer, can you hear me? What's your position?" "I'm in engineering," Moyer said, his labored breathing obvious in the intercom transmission. "I'm moving toward the connecting tunnel." "Copy." Saint-Michael checked the status displays above the hatch. The FIRE warning light had gone out, and now a PRESS warning light had illuminated. "I show the fire out and the connecting tunnel depressurized to one-half atmosphere, Moyer. You're clear to activate the interlock bypass. Be sure to take a couple of POS packs with you in case they need them. I I
"Roger. Opening the hatch now." Moyer depressurized the engineering module, opened the hatch leading into the connecting tunnel, then closed and sealed the hatch behind him and moved toward the large airlock module. ,It didn't take long for Moyer's report. "Skipper?" "Can you make it into Enterprise? How does it look?" "I'm at the hatch to the airlock module. I've got a FIRE light on over the hatch-" The transmission stopped. "Moyer?" No reply. "Moyer, report." "Skipper ... my God ... the whole airlock module is burned out. I can see two bodies in the airlock. They're both burned. I think it's Kelly and Bayles.... I think they tried to get back to the station. . . . " "Moyer. . . ." Saint-Michael paused, tried to calm himself, to think it through .... A fire in the airlock, at least two dead ... two dead outside ...... Moyer ... Ted, we need you to inspect the Enterprise. It's our only chance to get out and be rescued. You've got to check out the shuttle."
Moyer's voice was remarkably steady. "Yes, sir. I understand. I'm ready."
"Stand by. DeFUNAng the airlock. " Saint-Michael turned to Marks, who activated the station's environmental control panel. Marks nodded back to the commander. "Docking, airlock module at five,p.s.i." -
.'Roger," Moyer-rephed, his voice hoarse but steady. He waited until the FIRE light over the entry hatch went out as the thinned atmosphere in the module extinguished any last remaining fires. "Entering airlock. " In spite of all his efforts, Moyer could not avoid looking at the charred remnants of the men who had been his best friends for so many months. His stomach took over then....
SILVER TOWER
207
ELEKTRON ONE SPACEPLANE
From his vantage point high over Armstrong Space Station Alesander Govorov saw the bright flash and the explosion as the crew compartment of Enterprise was rent apart by Voloshin's missile. He saw the reflections of light in the cockpit windows and the rapidly spreading cloud of gases and debris around the shuttle. "Elektron Two. Report." "Moving into position, Lead . . . ... "That explosion. What happened?"
A slight pause, then: "Teaching the Americans a lesson, Lead. Before they can attempt another attack-"
Govorov pounded on an armrest in frustration, trying to vent his anger. Voloshin was a top-notch cosmonaut and atmospheric fighter pilot. He was also five years younger than Govorov, and like most young pilots displayed more than a little impetuousness. Govorov would have strong words with him later. For now ...... Follow your orders, Colonel. We have a job to do. I want it done as surgically as possible. We are not teachers or butchers. "
Govorov activated his laser designator and swept it across the center beam of Armstrong Space Station. He had had only
a few minutes to study the sketches of Armstrong Station before this flight, and those sketches had obviously been outdated. But some of the targets were obvious.
Such as space-based radar. One of the huge phased-arrays had been sheared off, but its mate on the underside
center keel was still intact. Using the green-screen TV camera integral to the laser designator, he zoomed the picture in until the aiming reticle was
centered on the huge control junction linking the radar antenna to the keel. Destroy this one junction box and the radar's steering, power and electronics went with it. He activated the arming panel, placed one gloved finger around the stick-mounted trigger and gently squeezed.
ARMSTRONG SPACE STATION
"Cabin pressurization zero. Fire in middeck spread to upper deck. Big hole in forward bulkhead. Three . . . bodies in middeck . . . Davis, Wallis and Montgomery. Montgomery is still strapped into his chair. They . . . they didn't have a chance. "
Saint-Michael was leaning on an overhead handhold receiving Moyer's damage report of Enterprise. Seven dead on Enterprise. Seven dead. . . . "Can you find the damage, Ted?" "Yes, sir. Huge explosion somewhere in the lower deck. Might be a fuel-cell rupture. There's a big hole in the forward bulkhead. Looks like it goes clear through. "Is it repairable?" "I don't think so, not without a welder. Looks major."
Enterprise was gone. "Whatever the Russians shot at her, it was effective," Saint-Michael said to no one in particular. "Ted, report back here on the double." "What should I do with the Enterprise crew? Just leave them here--?"
An ear-splitting sound like the crack of a whip echoed through the command module. The entire station began to vibrate. A warning message appeared on a screen surrounding the master SBR display. "We've lost the entire number-two SBR array," Jefferson said, scanning his instruments. "No signal from that side at all. " "They've started," Walker said. "They're not going to stop until they've sawed this station to pieces." "Moyer, get back here. All of you, report to the lifeboat," Saint-Michael ordered. "I'll set the thrusters to deorbit the station; we'll time it so that-"
A voice broke in over stationwide intercom on the CALL position: "Control, this is Skybolt. I think I have the laser operational again.... I told you I was close to it. . . . "
Saint-Michael was startled by Ann's voice. He paused half a second, then flipped a button on the communications panel. "You what? Skybolt's working?" "I need you to s
witch control of the SBR back to, Skybolt from the Thor system. I can't do it back here. Switch the SBR over to-"
Ann was cut off by a loud bang and a warning horn blaring from the environmental control panel. "Control junction on the starboard radiator system," Jefferson said after checking the warning display. "That's half our environmental system out. 1,
"We can't risk it," Walker said. "A few more shots like that and we've had it." But Saint-Michael motioned him to be quiet. "Ann, can Skybolt really be effective?" "Baker error-trapped the system for me," she said. "I think the system will track targets now. I'm not sure if we trapped out the MHD ignition power problem, but-" "We don't have the time, Jason," Walker -broke in, his voice tight. "We've got to get to that lifeboat-"
Another loud bang; the station shuddered. The lights in the module dimmed for a moment and another environmental warning horn blared. The situation seemed too far gone to bother checking on the damage.
"Jason," Ann said. "You've got to do it now. It might already be too late. "All right, damn it. We'll try." Walker was about to continue to protest but Saint-Michael rode over him: "But not you five. I want all of you in the lifeboat. Immediately. I want you clear of the station when I fire the laser." "You can't do it alone," Ann said. "The laser has to be fired from the Skybolt module and I need someone to monitor the SBR from up there. We may also need to move the station. I've got to stay here in the Skybolt module.
. . . "
Saint-Michael hesitated again, but he knew there was no other option. This was her play. "All right, Ann, stay in Skybolt. Walker, Marks, Jefferson, Moyer, report to the lifeboat. "
Several more loud bangs and a major fuel-cell explosion had occurred by the time Walker reported that all remaining crewmembers of the crippled space station were sealed aboard the lifeboat.
Saint-Michael received Walker's acknowledgment, wished the men luck, then lifted a large plastic cover on a yellow-andblack-striped button at his commander's station. Instantly a series of explosive activators and self-contained hydraulic thrusters pushed the lifeboat free of its moorings and propelled it away from the station. Well, maybe somebody would live to tell what had happened here. And why. . . .
ELEKTRON ONE SPACEPLANE
"Lead. Watch out. Below you."
Ibis time, Govorov easily spotted the object of Voloshin's warning. The long, silver, oblong vessel beneath the cargodocking port jarred loose from its dock and moved quickly away from the station. In a few moments it was lost from view. "The rescue craft," Govorov radioed back to Voloshin.
"They've abandoned the station. It doesn't appear to have been jettisoned by accident." "Should we consider boarding Armstrong, Lead?" "No, I still think they'll fire the station's thrusters by remote control and deorbit the station. Stay in position and continue to pick off their station subsystems. U we have missiles left, we can target the pressurized modules."
As he talked Govorov noticed the station start to slowly revolve and he expertly maneuvered his Elektron to keep up with the station's slow rotation. It was not difficult to do, but the revolutions were a bit erratic--obviously the thrusters were no longer under computer control---and the station was revolving around the central keel, not along the pressurized module's axis.
Several pieces of the space-based radar array and other hunks of debris snapped off the keel and were sent crashmg into the pressurized modules. It looked as if the station was tearing itself aparL They could save their Scimitar missiles for another sortie, Govorov decided.
Meanwhile, Voloshin had maintained his position in space and was watching the station revolve under him rather than trying to maintain his position in relation to it. The lowermost sections of the station were beginning to come into view now.... He spotted the strange-looking device at the end of one of the lower pressurized modules-the Skybolt steerable mirror-housing. The mirror itself resembled a huge shiny bull's-eye.
As good a target as any, he thought as he activated his laser target-designator....
ARMSTRONG SPACE STATION
"That's the best I can do, Ann," Saint-Michael said over the intercom.
Talking was the least difficult thing to do with the POS
mask on. The large curved glass faceplate distorted his vision and fogged up when he spoke or breathed hard. The hoses and interphone wires floating around his head obstructed his hands as well as. his vision. Trying to accomplish a task as delicate as steering an eight-hundred-ton space station was all but impossible. "Can you hit the positive X axis just one shot?" "It'll take me too long to fiddle with these controls," Saint-Michael told her. "If you can't do it, say so. We'll need time to get into spacesuits before the Russians blow this place. "
He was a prophet. A huge explosion rocked the station, sending him scrambling for another handhold. The impact felt as if it was only a few feet away. The lights flickered, steadied, flickered again, then blinked out. A few
undamaged automatic power-failure lights snapped on. The station's spin seemed to accelerate, like a roller-coaster ride picking up speed at the crest of the incline.... "Ann ......
His call was drowned out by another explosion. His grip instinctively tightened on the ceiling handhold. But it was not another explosion on the keel. It was a loud, rhythmic drumming sound, reverberating through the entire station....
ELEKTRON TWO SPACEPLANE
The laser designator refused to lock onto the large round bull's-eye itself--some sort of mirror inside reflected the laser energy away instead of back to the spaceplane--so Voloshin had to target the housing of the bull's-eye instead. No problem there. The station was revolving at a perfect rate, not too fast, not too slow. In seconds the strange housing would be in range and he would send a Scimitar missile straight through-
Colonel Ivan Voloshin saw a flash of red light and felt suddenly hot, as though he'd been dunked in a tub of hot
water. The feeling was so pleasant that he let the warmth wash over him like a gentle wave. He even had time to worry about- someftig silly: that he had to urinate badly. Was it
S' hand f because hi elt as if it had been stuck in a bucket of warm water? That was a favorite technique of his mother's, he remembered: before going to the store with him, she would always ask if he had to go to the bathroom, and he of course would always say no. Then she would tell him to wash his hands and make sure to use hot water, and all of sudden he had to go....
Colonel Voloshin carried that pleasant childhood memory with him into oblivion as his Elektron spaceplane exploded into uncountable fiery pieces.
ELEKTRON ONE SPACEPLANE
"Elektron Two. Report on that flash of light on your side." Nothing, not even a hiss of static. "Voloshin. Report. " Govorov had to jerk his lateral thrusters quickly to avoid a large piece of debris, probably from the crippled American space station, that had appeared out of nowhere.
He glanced at his spaceplane's fuel gauges. His wild escape maneuver and his present station-keeping pulses to maintain his position on the revolving space station were seriously depleting his supply. Wasting more precious fuel searching for Voloshin would probably push him right to the time-line. He no longer had the time to spend locating, identifying, targeting and shooting at individual station subsystems. "Voloshin, fuel status." No reply. "Elektron Two, this is Elektron One. If you can hear me, break off your attack and join me one thousand meters above the station axis. Acknowledge."
Still no reply. Tbings had just darkened for Govorov: low on fuel, lost wingman, only five Scimitar missiles remaining and their target not yet destroyed. He discontinued his station-
keeping position and circled the wobbling space station. No sip of Voloshin. Instead of expending the energy to stationkeep around Armstrong, Voloshin had probably stayed above the wreck and ... been struck by a piece of debris....
Now only a few more minutes until the deorbit time-line limit. Govorov could not spend time targeting the stations' subsystems. He maneuvered to face the revolving station, activate,d his laser designator,
and took aim on the station's pressurized modules....
ARMSTRONG SPACE STATION
"Ann? Can you hear me?"
The intercom had gone dead. The lights were completely out now except for one or two remaining emergency lights. He had no way of knowing if the SBR or Skybolt had worked. He didn't even know if she was still alive.
Suddenly Saint-Michael's huge sophisticated space station seemed like an orbiting mausoleum, and all he could think of was finding her and getting out of this dark, entombing crypt.
Ever since the command-module crewmembers had evacuated the station, Saint-Michael had been wearing the bottoms of his spacesuit. He now made his way over to where the upper half of his suit was floating, slipped into it and joined up the two halves. While breathing oxygen from his POS he connected his gloves, communications headset and helmet in place and activated his life-support backpack. He then moved toward the hatch leading to the connecting tunnel.
He passed through the connecting tunnel and had just entered the engineering module when the entire ceiling seemed to explode on top of him. He caught a glimpse of a projectile shooting straight through the module and crashing through the deck. The Velcro-covered floor seemed to erupt and buckle like hot tar. Sparks filled the cabin. A PRESS warning horn sounded, followed by a FIRE warning light that flickered on
and off. In a few moments the only lights on in the module were the two warning lights, creating an eerie strobe-light effect. Saint-Michael had to overcome the sudden disorientation and will his legs to move. Carefully he climbed through the shards of metal, plastic, wiring and other debris now floating throughout the galley module and made his way to the hatch to the Skybolt module. Smoke began to billow through the galley as he peered through the thick Plexiglas window into the module. . . .
Ann was suspended about a foot from the ceiling, her arms
and legs dangling like a puppet's, her POS system hovering near her neck; Saint-Michael noted with relief that her mask was on. She was not moving. A few blobs of blood encircled her forehead.