Blue Darker Than Black

by Mike Jenne

  “Of course, Comrade General,” vowed Gogol, answering without the slightest hesitation. “You can be assured of this, sir.”

  Certainly, Gogol would drop the Egg without even a moment’s hesitation, thought Vasilyev. In fact, Gogol probably wouldn’t be able to restrain himself if he was issued an independent action code.

  “Good,” said Abdirov. “Very good. You gentlemen are released back to your duties.”

  As the three of them walked into the outer office, Gogol grinned. “So the two us will be in orbit together,” he said quietly, punching Vasilyev’s shoulder. “For weeks, no less! What a truly delightful turn of events.”

  Flinching from the blow, Vasilyev shuddered at the dire thought of spending sixty days in orbit with the despicable Gogol. As his stomach plummeted, he heard the voice of Abdirov’s secretary behind him. “Comrade Major Vasilyev,” she said.

  In a single motion, he stopped and spun around. “Da?”

  “The general wants to speak with you. Alone.”

  “We’ll wait for you in the car,” said Gogol, leaning towards him and speaking quietly. “And be mindful of what you chat about, Pavel. A thimbleful of caution goes a long way.”

  Vasilyev walked back into Abdirov’s office and reported. Yohzin had left; he and Abdirov were entirely alone. He heard the door click shut behind him as the general gestured for him to take a seat.

  Abdirov sipped from a glass of water, cleared his throat, and asked, “Tell me, Major Vasilyev, and be frank. Is there some reason that you are reluctant to fly with Lieutenant Colonel Gogol?”

  Vasilyev felt like the general was reading his thoughts. But what could he say? It was like walking a tightrope over a deep pit brimming with burning coals. This was his chance to finally break from Gogol, and while it was very tempting to finally reveal the truth, the consequences of a misstep could be catastrophic. If Abdirov didn’t accept his explanation, then his career would be over if he refused to fly with Gogol. Moreover, if he didn’t fly with Gogol, then Travkin would be obligated to fill the second seat, and he could not sentence his friend to such a fate.

  “I have your permission to speak openly?” asked Vasilyev. “Without fear of repercussion?”

  “Da. Of course.”

  “Some of his personal habits concern me,” answered Vasilyev matter-of-factly. “And frankly, sir, he sometimes displays a cavalier attitude towards his duties.”

  The corners of Abdirov’s damaged lips turned up in his unique half-smile and half-sneer. “I suspected as such,” he said. “I’ve heard that he can be very abrasive when talking to Control, if the conversation concerns a matter that doesn’t suit him, and I have to imagine that he exhibits the same sort of behavior with you and Travkin. And his habits offend you, Pavel Dmitriyevich?”

  “Maybe I was speaking out of turn, Comrade General,” answered Vasilyev sheepishly.

  “Then would it surprise you to know that I know all about Gogol’s shenanigans and obnoxious habits?”

  Vasilyev was shocked; if Abdirov had such intimate knowledge of Gogol’s behavior, then why on earth would he let him fly again? “You do, Comrade General?” he asked.

  “Sure. Suffice it to say that your commander did not adequately clean up after himself. After your Descent Module was brought back here last year, our technicians found two cigarette butts inside. I was made aware that you and Travkin did not smoke, and when I confronted Gogol about the butts, he admitted that they were his.”

  “I didn’t know that you were aware, Comrade General,” said Vasilyev.

  “I was. Trust me, Pavel, you will not be bothered by his obnoxious habit again, at least not on mission. I cannot compel him not to smoke on Earth, but he has promised that he will leave his cigarettes here when he departs for the next mission. Moreover, I will ensure that his personal kit is scrutinized to make sure that he cannot smuggle any smokes to orbit. Sincerely, I am sorry that he placed you at such great risk.”

  “Pardon me, Comrade General, but I didn’t think I was in great danger. To his credit, Gogol demonstrated to me that there was no danger of fire in weightlessness. While we weren’t fond of breathing his smoke, Travkin and I did not feel that we were in danger.”

  “You didn’t think there was a danger?” scoffed Abdirov. “You might not know it yet, but the Yantar crew had to fight a fire aboard their Salyut while they are up there, so I am not so prone as you to share in Gogol’s naiveté concerning the threat of fire in space. By the way, the Yantar crew taught us another lesson, and that is that crew personnel must be compatible. Two of them were almost constantly at odds with each other up there, and their squabbling almost prematurely ended the mission. So, Pavel, besides Gogol’s smoking and coarse behavior, is any other reason that you two can’t occupy the Krepost together for a few weeks?”

  For a fleeting instant, Vasilyev felt the need to be candid, but then realized that his honesty would likely come to naught, if not worse. “Nyet, Comrade General.”

  “Good, then on to other questions.”

  “Other questions, Comrade General?”

  “Da. I’ll tell you, Pavel, there are many attributes that I value in a subordinate, but for this mission, reliability is the quality that I value above all others.”

  “I agree, Comrade General. Considering the mission, you’re exactly right.”

  “Then can I trust you to be reliable, Pavel?” implored Abdirov. “Can I trust you to do your duty?”

  “Da, Comrade General,” replied Vasilyev. “Without question. I could not possibly shirk my duties as a Soviet officer.”

  “Then if you were instructed to deploy the warhead, you would do so without hesitation?”

  “Da, Comrade General.”

  Abdirov nodded his head. “That’s good, but it is absolutely crucial that you be resolute in executing your duties, even if the situation is not completely clear. For instance, what if the circumstances were such that Gogol was incapacitated and you were issued an independent action code? Would you still be so enthusiastic about deploying the warhead?”

  Choosing his words carefully, Vasilyev replied, “Comrade General, truthfully, I could never be enthusiastic about deploying the warhead, but if that was my task, then I would do so without hesitation.”

  “Good.” For whatever reason, Abdirov’s demeanor seemed to change. His tone became less like a superior officer counseling a subordinate, and more like a father speaking to a child, advising him on the true nature of the world. “You know, Pavel, as military officers, we are often faced with unique challenges that compel us to make some very difficult decisions. Sometimes, in order to make those decisions, it is vital to understand the intent of the mission, and not just the mission itself as it is expressed in a formal order. Does that make sense to you?”

  “Da, Comrade General.”

  “Good. Pavel, just so it’s absolutely clear: Do you realize that I am the only one granted the authority to release an independent action code to a cosmonaut in orbit on the Krepost?”

  “Da, Comrade General.”

  “And you do understand that I would never release an independent action code to you except in the most dire of circumstances, don’t you? I could only undertake such action if it was clearly obvious that we were in danger of losing all communications and that hostilities were imminent. And when I say hostilities, I am not talking about some petty regional conflict, but an all-out nuclear exchange between the Motherland and our enemies. You do understand this, don’t you, Pavel? You do understand why I cannot possibly take these duties lightly? It is quite a burden that the General Staff has entrusted to me, don’t you think?”

  “I agree completely, Comrade General,” replied Vasilyev. Focusing on a patriotic painting hung on the wall behind Abdirov’s desk, he swallowed, trying to anticipate where this conversation was leading.

  “Good. I’ll tell you, Pavel, I have great disdain for the indecisive. When the circumstances warrant, you must be fully prepared to exercise initiative.”
>
  “Da, Comrade General.”

  “Good. So that you might clearly understand my intent, Pavel, in the future, if the circumstances are such that I release an independent action code to you, then it’s logical for you to assume that you are being directed to take the initiative and act. Do you understand?”

  As his thoughts gelled, Vasilyev realized what Abdirov was conveying to him. Once in orbit, if Gogol became incapacitated, he was to interpret receipt of independent action code as a tacit order to deploy the warhead. Still, he could not believe that Abdirov was crossing this line; merely discussing such matters with a junior officer, even in the most theoretical of terms, was a tremendous gamble.

  “Did you hear me, Pavel Dmitriyevich?” asked Abdirov. “Do you understand?”

  “Comrade General, are you instructing me to deploy the warhead if I ever receive an independent action code?” asked Vasilyev softly.

  “That’s not what I said,” replied Abdirov. “To be clear, I want you to listen to me, Pavel. When the circumstances warrant, you must execute sound judgment.”

  Suddenly, Vasilyev could not draw a breath. He felt as if he was being hypnotized; Abdirov’s one-eyed stare pierced deep into his soul, like a gimlet boring into a tenacious stone. He tried to speak, but could not.

  “Did you hear me, Pavel Dmitriyevich? When the circumstances warrant, you must execute sound judgment.”

  Vasilyev struggled for words, but found only Abdirov’s. “Comrade General, when the circumstances warrant, I will execute sound judgment.”

  “Good.”

  Burya Test Facility Kapustin Yar Cosmodrome, Astrakhan Oblast, USSR

  5:45 p.m., Friday, December 31, 1971

  It was late in the evening, and the Krepost headquarters were largely vacant; most of the workers were already at home with their families, preparing to celebrate New Year’s Eve, the biggest holiday of the year in the Soviet Union. As they remembered the year and its momentous—and tragic—events, Abdirov and Yohzin shared a bottle of Stolichnaya.

  Yohzin heard a light tapping at the door; it was his driver, reminding him that the car was warmed up and waiting outside.

  “I suppose it’s high time for you to head home to the family, eh?” asked Abdirov, pouring them another round.

  “You know that Luba and I would be delighted to have you, Rustam,” answered Yohzin, downing the shot. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “There’s ample food and drink to share, and she would be thrilled to set you a place at our table again. Come with me, friend, and celebrate tonight with my family.”

  “Hah!” snorted Abdirov. “Listen, Gregor, I would be delighted, but even if your lovely wife can still pretend to tolerate my loathsome appearance, I’m very aware that I scare the dickens out of your sons. Why should I ruin this special night for them? Besides, I am celebrating with my family. You’re my family, Gregor.”

  Yohzin suddenly felt tremendous sadness for his friend. “But you know that you are always welcome,” he said, slightly slurring his words.

  “You are very kind, Gregor, but there is still work to be done tonight.”

  “Work?” asked Yohzin. “Even on this holy night?”

  Abdirov frowned at him. “Holy night? Listen, I know that you and your family still celebrate Christmas, for the boys if nothing else, but you might be a little more cautious about mentioning that it in the future. Some might not be so amused.”

  “Sorry. So, what is so pressing that it demands your attention on New Year’s Eve?” asked Yohzin.

  Half-drunk, Abdirov awkwardly stood up and stumbled towards the conference table. The table’s gleaming surface was completely covered with blueprints and schematics. “Join me here,” he said. “And bring that bottle.”

  Yohzin did as he was asked and poured them another round. Saluting their fallen comrades, far too many to name as individuals, they downed the shots. “So, what’s all this?” he asked, gesturing at the mass of paperwork.

  “I received all this yesterday,” explained Abdirov, scratching a scaly patch of scarred skin on his neck. “They were delivered by special courier, flying directly from Moscow. You remember that I told you that the Krepost will eventually be connected to Perimetr?”

  “Da,” answered Yohzin, studying the diagrams. Perimetr was a vast secret network of detectors and controllers that would automatically initiate a retaliatory nuclear strike in the event that other command and control networks had been neutralized. To those who were aware of it, the theoretically foolproof network was also colloquially known as the Dead Hand.

  “To accommodate the Perimetr system, these are the proposed modifications to the existing weapons deployment system on the Krepost. Obviously, none of this can be installed in time before the first station is launched, but all future Krepost stations will be controlled by Perimetr. Moreover, special hardware will be produced so that the first Krepost can be retrofitted with the Perimetr equipment.”

  “Then the Krepost will be unmanned, Rustam?” asked Yohzin. “If it will be controlled by Perimetr, will there still be a need for a crew?”

  “Initially, for the sake of redundancy, our men will still occupy Krepost as a backup to the automatic deployment system,” answered Abdirov. “The most significant change is that we would lose our ability to issue an independent action code.”

  No independent action code? That’s a huge relief, thought Yohzin. Dispensing with the independent action code was a truly fortuitous development. He had always been deathly afraid of the ramifications inherent in granting such immense power to a single individual. If the Perimetr network was frightening, then the notion of the independent action code was even more so. Unfortunately, Yohzin was conscious that Abdirov was a diehard believer in the special code, and would be loath to surrender such power to a coterie of machines.

  “I don’t like this,” muttered Abdirov. “I think you’re aware that I am not a fan of Perimetr. I think that the entire concept is insane, and it will accomplish nothing but could potentially jeopardize a warhead deployment in a crisis. Robots should not make decisions concerning the deployment of nuclear weapons; there should always be a human hand at the controls.”

  “I agree, Rustam,” noted Yohzin. “Absolutely.”

  As if they were conspiring to kill an offending Party official, Abdirov leaned towards Yohzin and said quietly, “I am delighted that we’re in accord, Gregor, because I want you to study these schematics and devise some means to bypass Perimetr.”

  Bypass Perimetr? What exactly did he mean? Confounded, seeking clarity, Yohzin apprehensively asked, “I don’t understand, Rustam. You wish me to circumvent Perimetr so that the warhead will not be deployed if Perimetr is triggered?”

  Abdirov chuckled. “Very amusing, Gregor. You think that I don’t want the weapon deployed? Quite the contrary. I do want to drop the Egg, but once we relinquish control to Perimetr, that opportunity will be snatched from our hands. The independent action code is our only means of doing so, and we are on the verge of losing that capability.”

  “But you want to drop the Egg, Rustam?”

  “Certainly. I’ll tell you, Gregor, I am an old man, and I am weary of this incessant standoff between the East and West. It will eventually come to a head, but when? Why must it drag on so long? It’s just a matter of chemistry. There needs to be a catalyst to start this reaction.”

  Cringing, Yohzin resisted the urge to gasp. Struggling to maintain his composure, he became physically ill.

  “I’ll tell you, brother, if ever the opportunity presents itself, even ever so briefly, we should strike while the iron is hot,” declared Abdirov with fervor. “I am absolutely convinced that we can defeat the Americans if we attack first. Once the Egg is dropped, those damned fat politicians in the Politboro will have no option but to immediately unleash the rest of our arsenal!”

  “Then you are willing to deploy the warhead without American provocation?”

  “Of course!” howled Abdirov.

  As
his heart raced and veins pounded in his temples, Yohzin heard a faint tapping at the door again. “It’s my driver,” he explained. “I think he’s impatient to get back to his comrades in the barracks, and he can’t join in the revelry until I release him from his duties.”

  “Then be on your way, Gregor. I’ll be fine here.”

  “I’ll have Luba fix you a plate and some goodies, and I’ll send my driver back with them.”

  “Spasiba,” replied Abdirov. “You are very kind.”

  With that, the two men embraced and Yohzin went on his way. Tugging his overcoat around him to ward off the cold, he climbed into the back seat of his Moskvitch sedan. Patting Magnus on the head, he considered the chilling exchange with Abdirov. Ironically, he once believed that the American nuclear arsenal was the greatest menace in the world, but now he knew better, since the Americans were at least practical enough to implement sufficient checks and balances to ensure that their weapons were not arbitrarily or accidently fired. He was convinced that Abdirov had completely lost his equilibrium, and that it was now his task to save the world—his sons’ world—from a good man gone mad.

  He knew that he must act, and act swiftly; there was no time to spare. Although he had promised himself that he would never betray Abdirov and reveal the Krepost to the West, this development indelibly altered the relationship between him and his old friend. It would be a tremendously risky undertaking, but he vowed to sneak his Minox camera into the Burya facility to capture all the intelligence that he could. He would not just direct Smith and his Americans to the keyhole, he would shove them through the damned door if that’s what it took to postpone Armageddon.

  25

  GIFT HORSE

  Aerospace Support Project

  9:45 a.m., Monday, March 6, 1972

  As Ourecky waited for an intelligence briefing to start, he reflected on the events of the past year. Last year had passed without incident, at least as far as Blue Gemini was concerned. The hardware had functioned flawlessly, and he and Carson had flown four perfect missions in 1971. While they had yet to see an OBS—and now questioned whether the nuclear nemesis had ever actually existed—they had successfully knocked down two Soviet recon platforms and two military communications relays in the past fourteen months, for a grand total of seven Soviet space vehicles destroyed since their first flight. Intelligence reports indicated that the Soviets were scrambling to determine why their most critical satellites seemed to function normally—at least for a while—only to suddenly fail or fall inexplicably out of the sky.