Skyfall

“They are indeed, sir,” O'Brian answered in the same language, completely fluent. He turned and saluted the massive form of Lieutenant-General V. F. Bykovsky, the man in charge of it all. Bykovsky returned the salute with an airy wave of his hand, looking relaxed and a little dull. O'Brian was not fooled in the slightest. The general was chairman of CEUS, an outgrowth of ICIC–Commission for Exploration and Utilization of Space of the Permanent Interdepartmental Commission on Interplanetary Communications. This made him top man of all Soviet space activities, responsible only to the Central Committee. A very big man indeed. O'Brian opened his case and took out a thick ream of paper. “All of the latest orbital data, observed up to an hour ago, calculated for the next three orbits,” he said.

“Very good,” General Bykovsky said, holding out his hand.

“Not very good, but excellent,” Academician Tsander said, coming up behind them. “We will need them to refine our own orbit.”

He came only as high as the shoulders of the two big military officers — but height was not what counted here. Responsibility was. The booster landings were his responsibility. The papers were his. He glanced through them as he shuffled away, muttering to himself.

“What do you plan to do with the core body booster?” O'Brian asked casually. Bykovsky's lips smiled slightly at the question; his narrow Tartar eyes did not.

“Why land it of course, Colonel. Isn't that what we are here to do?”

“Absolutely, General. But you are surely aware that there have been some troubles with ignition. The more excitable sections of the world press are beginning to kick up a stink about possible impact landings.”

Tsander reappeared, cigarette dangling from his lips, white hair floating behind him. The file of papers under his arm was far thicker now. “Gentleman, we must talk,” he said. “Could we use your office, Valery Fyodorovich?”

“Of course,” Bykovsky said, pointing the way, knowing full well what the Academician had in mind. His office was wired and bugged and every word would be recorded for later study. There could be no secret arrangements, or later accusations of secret arrangements of anything discussed there. It was no accident that Tsander had reached his advanced age and high degree without coming to harm.

“Be seated, gentlemen, vodka of course.”

Tsander waved it away with his hand but O'Brian. accepted with pleasure. He knew just how much of this white lightning he could drink to keep sharp, and never had a drop more. It was Polish vodka, flavored with the buffalo grass, the kind he enjoyed.

“Zdarorvya!” Bykovsky said and then downed the small glasses which he instantly refilled. “What is the matter under discussion, Academician?”

“You know perfectly well what it is. Landing that last booster. What I want to know from you, now, is do we do it unilaterally or is Colonel O'Brian to be represented in the discussions?”

Bykovsky sighed inwardly as he downed another vodka, thinking of all the microphones in this room and all of the ears that would be listening to this conversation soon. It was a good thing that he had considered this possible contingency ever since the trouble had begun, and a number of phone calls had resulted finally in a decision from above. He was covered.

“The answer is obvious,” he said. (Hours of continuous phoning — obvious!) “Of course this is a joint project in every way. The orbital figures the Colonel has brought will be invaluable. But naturally he has no responsibility in the actual landing of the booster. Is that satisfactory?”

That way they can have their cake and eat it too, O'Brian thought, sipping the next vodka and showing no expression at all. If the landing is faultless — then they did it alone. If there's trouble the responsibility is shared and they can blame the US figures for the trouble if need be. The Soviet mind. It made Pentagon politics look like cat's cradle. Finally, he nodded his head.

“Then it is decided,” Tsander said with finality. “Here is our problem. Earlier attempts to obtain ignition on the core body were not successful. It appears that engine three is in difficulty and it has been isolated. Engine one has, we hope, also been isolated to obtain balanced thrust with the two remaining, opposed engines. Yet these would not fire at all.”

“What about the attitude engines?” O'Brian asked.

They nave not been tested yet, nor will they until decision has been reached as to how we are to proceed. A big concern is also the remaining fuel in the booster. It is approximately twenty-four percent of total capacity.”

“That would be — how much?” Bykovsky asked.

O'Brian had been tapping quickly on his calculator. “About six hundred thousand kilos,” he said. “Hydrogen and oxygen. The most explosive chemical combination that can be used for fuel.”

“I'm aware of that,” Bykovsky said tonelessly. “Please go on, Tsander.”