by Joe Weber
As the new chief of NASA, Hays, fifty-six, a grandfather and amateur boat builder, exuded confidence and was well-respected by his staff.
The astrophysicist was slowly adjusting to his new position at the Kennedy Space Center.
Dr. Hays, you have an urgent call on line two, the female voice sounded from his phone speaker.
The NASA boss punched line two. Dr. Hays.
Rex, Dave Miller.
Morning, Dave, Hays responded, a flash thought crossing his mind as to the reason David Miller, in the White House Situation Room, would be calling him directly.
What can I do for you? Hays was cautious.
Rex, I'm sure you've been following this Russian push-an'-shove match the past couple of days. Miller slowed to breathe. He lived under constant stress and was a heavy smoker with the beginning stages of emphysema.
Yes I have, Hays answered, an uneasy feeling in his stomach.
Well, we believe the primary thrust of all this crap is the Star Wars' dilemma they're facing. Miller paused again.
And? Hays scratched on his desk pad, contemplating a myriad of possibilities for disaster.
The powers-that-be think the Russians may try to take it out before
we
Take what out? Hays interrupted, thinking about the disdain he had for the unkempt bureaucrat.
The goddamn shuttle, that's what! Miller responded with his usual harshness.
Would you care to elaborate? Hays asked in a controlled and businesslike manner.
Intelligence has confirmed three subs, three Russian subs, lyin' off the coast in a direct line with the shuttle trajectory.
Miller continued when he received no response. The closest one is fourteen miles off shore, Miller coughed twice. Our ASW boys are going' absolutely ape-shit down there.
Hays queried the excitable White House aide. You're telling me the intelligence people believe the Russians may attempt to destroy Columbia on the ground, or after the launch?
You got it. Even a possibility of covert troops, commandos, from a sub coming ashore and destroying the shuttle and surrounding facilities.' Miller wheezed and continued his scenario.
Hell, they could be all over the place right now. Could have been picked up by a yacht, everyone in tourist civies, and roaming 'round the cape this very minute.
Okay, Dave. What do you propose? Hays asked as he glanced through his window at Columbia and thought about security measures for Discovery, Endeavor, and Atlantis.
Not much for your folks. Rex. Just be aware, and alert everyone to the possibility of sabotage. Miller coughed, then continued. The Army is going to surround the complex and beef up security at the gates. The Marines are securing the beach, and, Miller paused, lighting another unfiltered cigarette, they will have six Cobra gunships there in Miller checked his watch 'bout forty-five minutes.
What about overflights by civilian airplanes? Hays asked.
The FAA has been notified. They're issuing a Notice to Airmen immediately. It'll be effective from now until further notice and designates the airspace for twenty miles 'round the launch complex, from the ground to infinity, as a prohibited area.
What is the penalty for violating the airspace? Hays thought about a threat from a passive-looking civilian airplane.
The message clearly states that any unidentified aircraft, civilian or military, traversing the prohibited airspace will be destroyed.
Destroyed by what?
I 'magine marine gunships or ground-launched missiles, Miller responded.
Sounds as if the president is serious, Hays remarked, probing the possibility of moving the launch time up a day or two.
Damn right he is! The Navy is sitting all over the subs and the Saratoga is in a hum to leave Norfolk. Should be underway in two or three hours.
Miller paused, then continued. Air Force is sending F-16s from Shaw and Homestead. They'll patrol around the clock and operate out of Patrick and the shuttle emergency runway.
Navy F-14s from Jacksonville will rendezvous with the Saratoga and provide air cover further out to sea. The Navy boys have a squadron of ASW planes over the subs now.
Miller paused, then continued. Listen, Rex, I gotta' run.
The boss just flagged me, so if you have any questions, let me know.
The NASA chief had many questions regarding the safety of the shuttles, but Miller was not the individual to deal with on this matter.
Okay, Dave. Appreciate the information, Hays replied, then placed the phone receiver down.
THE KREMLIN
The general secretary, with assistance from the Politburo, had briefed the Central Committee during the morning session about the difficulties the government had experienced in the previous years.
Zhilinkhov sipped at his strong, hot tea and reflected on Soviet history. Periods of Soviet lenience had always been followed by crackdowns, the only effective way to rule a communist country.
The general secretary thought about the mid-eighties when the new policy of glasnost, or openness, had been installed.
The deterioration of the party had been obvious and immediate.
Riots had broken out during 1986 in Alma-Ata, the capital of Kazakhstan, over perestroika, reconstruction. The kazakh who had led the republic's Communist party for more than a generation had been retired and replaced by a Russian. The unfortunate riot caused by that action had been made public and demonstrations erupted over the next five years in many outlying regions.
The open society approach resulted in Pravda, the Communist party daily, criticizing the Brezhnev era policies. The paper blamed the former general secretary for sending the country into an economic slump. Pravda also charged that favoritism had been rampant during the Brezhnev years.
Zhilinkhov had known that such open reporting would hurt the Party and the country. He had known also that the information was correct.
Leonid's friendship for him had paved the way to his becoming chief of the KGB.
The Party's protracted crisis had worsened with the Chernobyl nuclear reactor disaster in 1986. The horrendous catastrophe had been shown in detail by the media. That incident had been one of the primary reasons the Party had begun to falter. Control of the media had been abolished, leading to further erosion of party authority.
The incident that had irritated the former KGB secret service chief the most had happened in 1987. Pravda had publicly rebuked a top KGB officer. The loyal agent, hand-picked years earlier by Zhilinkhov, had been fired as head of the unit in the Ukrainian region of Voroshilovgrad.
The policies of glasnost and perestroika had hit party ministers and members of the Politburo very hard.
Zhilinkhov remembered that his Politburo friend, Boris Dichenkovko, had come very close to forced resignation in 1987 for questioning glasnost.
The general secretary looked at his watch. He had twelve minutes left of his solitary lunch break before addressing the Central Committee again.
Zhilinkhov thought about the serious decline of production levels in the late eighties and early nineties. Economic growth had withered, which resulted in shortages of many consumer items, including clothing, shoes, watches, glassware, television sets, washing machines, refrigerators, cars, and motorcycles.
During the same period of economic stagnation and associated political unrest, more stinging attacks had been directed at the former Kremlin leaders, including Brezhnev and Nikita Khrushchev, from state-run periodicals. The articles had been very demoralizing for Soviet leaders and government officialdom.
However, Zhilinkhov, along with his contemporaries in the Politburo, had known in their hearts that it was typical for the Kremlin leadership to denounce its predecessors. Khrushchev had attacked Stalin in 1956, three years after Stalin's death, and his friend Leonid had denounced Khrushchev after he was ousted in 1964.
The real blow to Zhilinkhov had been his dismissal from the Politburo in September 1988, along with Dichenkovko and two other members who were close stalwarts from the
Brezhnev era. The four men, all hard-liners, had lived with the stinging embarrassment for many months.
Zhilinkhov had retaliated by publicly criticizing Gorbachev's decision to allow Andrei Sakharov to visit the United States.
The Nobel laureate had told Western reporters that Gorbachev's political and economic restructuring faced solid domestic opposition that would endanger world peace. Sakharov warned that perestroika and glasnost could result in an extremely dangerous Gorbachev dictatorship.
The Western press had reported that Gorbachev had tried to rejuvenate the Communist party system, and renovate a government, without reforming it. The editorials had predicted that the authoritarian Communist system, lacking momentum and zeal, would slowly degenerate.
Then, during Gorbachev's trip to the United States in December 1988, the Armenian earthquake overshadowed the general secretary's announcement of Soviet troop reductions in Europe.
Rushing to Leninakan, Armenia, Gorbachev found total confusion in the Russian rescue and relief efforts. High-level Soviet officials, aided by the media, lambasted the general secretary and his efforts at restructuring. The disorderly earthquake rescue effort, the critics said, was another example of a faltering government.
Gorbachev, beleaguered and harshly defensive, fired back at his critics during January 1989. He alluded to strong political resistance from leaders at the pinnacle of power, and down played calls for a return to the authoritarian style of Stalin.
The most alarming aspect of Soviet economic problems had been the unbelievable drop in oil production in 1990. The flow from the rich Tyumen fields of western Siberia had declined eighteen percent from the previous year. The loss in production had had a staggering effect on the country and the military in particular.
The oil minister, Yevgeny P. Sveridoskiy, a solid party member, had been fired and sent into exile, as reported by TASS.
Zhilinkhov recalled, however, that Sveridoskiy had never been seen again by family or friends.
The Russian economy, exploited with ruthless means by the military hierarchy for three decades, had turned on its leaders.
The perestroika facade had crumpled as waves of protesters rioted throughout major industrial sectors in 1991. The Soviet image of a dynamic, prosperous work force had become a national embarrassment.
The political meddling had escalated to finger-pointing and shouted insults among Politburo members. Longtime political friends wouldn't speak to each other in social settings.
Party hard-liners had demanded a return to basic communist principles.
The Politburo, feeling a total loss of control, had split into two factions.
Zhilinkhov recalled the evening he had contacted his Politburo friend, Boris Dichenkovko. That night the two of them had formed the inner circle.
Zhilinkhov and Dichenkovko had invited three current Politburo members, who openly resisted the former general secretary, to join them in a bold coup d'etat.
The three newcomers to the circle had been bolstered by the zeal of Zhilinkhov and Dichenkovko. Their passion had grown as Zhilinkhov outlined the detailed plan in a lengthy secret meeting.
An accident had been arranged to kill the former general secretary.
A Libyan militiaman, expert in the use of portable air-defense missiles, had used a Soviet SA-14 to down the Russian transport carrying the Kremlin chief. The recruited Libyan had been murdered less than thirty minutes after the crash by a Dichenkovko loyalist.
The three current Politburo members had acted swiftly to align the other eight members behind Zhilinkhov and Dichenkovko.
The group had been at odds over many issues and readily embraced the plan Zhilinkhov presented to restore Communist party principles. The Politburo, with one dissenter, had elected their friend and former Politburo member, Viktor Pavlovich Zhilinkhov, to fill the position of general secretary and president.
After Zhilinkhov had entrenched himself in the position of consummate power, the inner circle had initiated the next phase.
The steps necessary to probe the Americans in preparation for a nuclear, chemical, and biological first strike to the United States were begun.
Zhilinkhov had enlisted a longtime friend. Minister of Defense and General of the Army Trofim Filippovich Porfir'yev, in the inner circle.
Porfir'yev, the Russian equivalent of the American secretary of defense and chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff combined, had initially been shocked by the magnitude of Zhilinkhov's intent. Although Porfir'yev was fully apprised of the different first-strike scenarios rehearsed by the senior military commanders, he had never discussed the possibilities with the ruling hierarchy.
After meeting with the other members of Zhilinkhov's aggregation, Porfir'yev embraced the bold plan and strongly recommended that the group include Marshal Nicholas Georgiyevich Bogdonoff, chief of the general staff.
The members of Zhilinkhov's circle, although concerned about security, agreed. They didn't want too many individuals, even at the top, to be aware of the secret strike plan.
Bogdonoff had always been a fervent advocate of the preemptive strike theory. He would provide the key military ingredient during the first stages of investigating American reactions.
Zhilinkhov and Porfir'yev approached the marshal of the Soviet Union in the general secretary's private dining room.
Bogdonoff, though initially stunned, enthusiastically joined the conspiracy. He immediately set about implementing the military steps to probe the Americans without alarming any leaders in the Soviet military.
The first step had already been completed. Russian bombers with fighter escorts had approached American battle groups.
The inner circle knew they could launch cruise missiles at the U.S.carriers from within 150 kilometers.
Now Soviet submarines would pursue U.S. carrier groups, pressing closer than ever before, to evaluate Russian first-strike capabilities.
The bomber and submarine probes had been carefully designed to appear as normal military operations under the new regime. Zhilinkhov didn't want to create any suspicion in the Kremlin, or the military, prior to giving the order to launch missiles.
If the secret plan leaked out, Zhilinkhov's power to launch a strike on a moment's notice, without question, would be stripped by the eight uninformed Politburo members. Zhilinkhov was one of two men on the planet who could launch a massive, world-threatening nuclear strike, on his own authority.
Zhilinkhov now waited patiently for the next step to take place sinking the American submarine prowling the Sea of Okhotsk. / The general secretary looked at his watch again, thinking about the afternoon session with the Central Committee. He would tell them of his economic reforms, reorganization of bureaucratic dynasties, industrial incentive plan, and revitalization of the energy industry.
His message was simple: the future would restore Russia to her prominence, if the Party would give him the time needed.
Comrade General Secretary, the members await you. It is past one, Dimitri, head of the kitchen staff, gently reminded the eighty-six-year-old party leader.
USS DWIGHT D. EISENHOWER
Linnemeyer awoke in his cabin as the ship rolled hard to starboard in a 180-degree course reversal. The CO turned over, glanced at his portable alarm clock, blinked a number of times to clear his vision, and read the hour. He had been asleep over seven hours, much longer than his customary four or five hours.
Linnemeyer rubbed his face gingerly, finding the stubble coarse and uncomfortable. He forced his way out of the warm, inviting bunk and reached for his shaving kit, knocking over a glass of water in the semidarkness of his room.
The private stateroom contained a toilet and shower, the size of a small closet, off to the side of a combination sitting room/bedroom.
Linnemeyer brushed his teeth, shaved, and enjoyed a brief, but exhilarating, hot shower. Conservative use of fresh water was mandatory aboard Navy vessels at sea.
He changed into fresh work khakis, smartly laundered and pressed
to razor-sharp crispness, and combed his hair. Slipping into his sage green flight jacket, Linnemeyer grabbed his wallet and watch, opened his cabin door and stepped into the soft red glow of the passageway.
CIC was a short walk away and he looked forward to having a hot cup of coffee, along with an update briefing on the latest Soviet activities, before going back to have his dinner. He had slept through lunch and his body was telling him it was past time to eat.
Linnemeyer stepped over the hatch-combing into the Combat Information Center and was greeted by the senior petty officer of the watch, Jim Puckette, electronics technician first class.
Good evening, sir.
Evening. Where's the watch officer? Linnemeyer asked, observing the activity in the room.
Went to the head, sir. Be right back, Puckette responded, knowing the CO didn't have a lot of patience. Care for some hot tea, sir?
Linnemeyer glanced at the small, fold-out table normally reserved for the battered coffee pot.
Hot tea? What happened to the coffee? Linnemeyer asked as he noticed the watch officer, Lt. Pete Dyestrom, step back into CIC.
Coffee pot shelled, sir. Puckette looked at Dyestrom, seeking approval. We deep-sixed it, sir. Graham broke out Wilson's four-cupper.He only drinks tea.
Puckette reached for the CO's cup hanging on the bulkhead and poured him a steaming cup of strong rosewood tea.
Sounds great to me. Can't be choosey when ya' come a-bummin', Linnemeyer responded, noticing the grins on the sailors' faces.
Well, Pete, what's the picture at the present time? the CO asked the CIC watch officer.
Do you want the good news or the bad news first?
Let's go with the good. I'm an optimist, Linnemeyer grinned as he tasted his tea, still too hot to drink comfortably.
The Kennedy is joining us. They're out of the Med now, somewhere off Lisbon Dyestrom abruptly ended the sentence when his intercom rang.
Linnemeyer looked at the ship's position plot as Dyestrom completed his conversation.
Staff wants to see you, sir. They tried your quarters and figured you'd be here, Dyestrom hurried. The bad news, briefly, is that we still have the two subs trailing along and the Kiev is standing off about Dyestrom looked over to the petty officer manning CIC plot.