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"David!" Frank said happily. "At least you remembered the time difference this time."

David laughed. "Sergei took care of that. Anyway, he was right. There are at least two of the Burans here. One's been sitting outside for a long time, but the other one is covered in dust in an unused hangar. I've seen it, and I've even been aboard it. And Sergei got me quite a lot of information. Did you know there's a Buran fan club in Russia? They keep track of what happened to every one of the orbiters. They even have a website.

"Anyway, I need to know if you have any contacts in Energia, or Molniya, or in an outfit called Antonov Airlines in the Ukraine?"

"Sorry, no. I really don't do a lot of business in that part of the world."

"Well," David said, "Maybe you should start. At one point, they also considered launching the Buran from an aircraft. They even had Antonov build them the world's largest airplane to carry the thing. They dropped the air launch idea for some reason, but they used the AN-225 to move the Burans around. The AN225 is still the largest aircraft in the world, and it's still flying. It's owned by Antonov Airlines, and they hire it out to haul really big and heavy cargo. And it still has the attachments to haul a Buran."

Frank snapped to attention in his chair. "Really? You're not kidding?"

"No kidding," David replied. "I'll bet a rich, high-powered business executive could arrange to use it, assuming you could get a Buran or two in the first place. The reason I asked about Energia is that they built the special booster to lift Buran into space. I'd bet they still have the plans, if they don't actually have a couple of motors lying around. They were also involved in the planning for the air launch."

Frank was grinning into the phone. "If you were a rich, high-powered business executive, the first thing you'd do is convince the Russian government to allow a team to go to Baikonur and Moscow to study every detail of the Buran. And then you'd hire someone to find out the location, condition and owner of every Buran still in existence, and the chances and cost of buying each of them. You'd also get some feelers out to Energia about sending someone to discuss the Buran launch program. Then you'd talk to Antonov Airlines about that aircraft. You said it was the AN-225? I'll google it and check it out. You'd better start looking for accommodations for about five people for a month or so. And don't plan on hurrying back yourself. It sounds like most of this project just moved to Kazakhstan."

"Will you be coming too, Frank?"

Frank considered. "Probably not. If we can do a deal for one or two Burans, we'll have jumped our schedule a year ahead. I've got to start working on the operational aspects. We're going to need a launch site, and a location to start building a base to work on those Buran's you buy. I'll check around and see if I can come up with some contacts in the Russian space program that can help you out."

"Well," David replied, "we've got Sergei, and he's a true believer, now. He's been introducing me around. But most of the people he can introduce me to are mid-level scientists. We're going to need access to the bosses to get anything done."

David called again about three weeks later. He was having little luck getting access to the higher levels of management at Baikonur, and those he had been able to contact had been noncommittal. He and Sergei felt that Frank would have to come himself.

"Okay," Frank replied. "Nothing has a higher priority than those Burans. I'll be there as soon as Susan can make the arrangements."

"Stop in Moscow on the way," David said. "Sergei and I are getting the feeling that the only way to break through this brick wall is at the Federal Space Agency, Roscosmos."

Two weeks later Frank was on an Aeroflot flight to Moscow, wishing he'd chosen a western airliner. It was a long flight, and he wasn't impressed with the service, even in first class. Sheremetyevo International Airport was modern and clean, but the cab ride into the city took over an hour due to congestion.

He had consulted several business associates who had been doing business in Russia. Three of them had given him the name of Dmitri Gorneliev, a Deputy Head of Roscosmos, and one had volunteered to call Gorneliev and pave his way. Like all the senior leadership at Roscosmos, Gorneliev had both space program and military experience, though his bio on the Roscosmos web site did not indicate a current military affiliation.

Since he had arrived during normal office hours, Frank called the number he had been given. Gorneliev's English-speaking secretary surprised Frank by telling him they had been expecting his call, and giving him an appointment the next day.

Frank was surprised to find himself rather nervous when he arrived for his appointment ten minutes early. He was kept waiting less than half an hour before being shown into Gorneliev's office.

Gorneliev seemed to be in his early fifties, fit, with a broad slavic face and an equally broad smile as he welcomed Frank. He was dressed in a conservative western-style business suit, and his English was excellent, almost accentless. He offered Frank coffee, which he refused, and then walked around his desk and resumed his seat.

"It is an honor to meet the richest man in the world," Gorneliev smiled.

Frank shook his head. "Barely in the top dozen," he replied. "And this project is likely to knock me off the list altogether."

"Ah! And it is this project you wish to discuss with me?" Gorneliev asked, obviously braced for a sales pitch.

Frank frowned, thinking hard. Finally, he shrugged. "Yes, sir." He hesitated. "Sir, I hope you'll excuse me. I spent most of the flight over here composing a truly impressive sales presentation. I was going to impress you with my good intentions and convince you that selling me nearly the entire Buran project would be in your nation's best interest.

"Now, I find myself too nervous to deliver that wonderful presentation. I have not been nervous in a business meeting in thirty years, and that leaves me at somewhat of a loss. So, I'm going to dispense with that slick presentation, and just go with honesty."

"I have been a space enthusiast since I discovered a science fiction book in my school library at age 12. The '60s, '70's, and '80's were an uncertain time for both our nations, sir, but science, especially space science, developed by leaps and bounds. Mankind progressed. The entire world captured the dream of space, and the spin-offs changed everyone's lives for the better."

Frank paused for a moment, deep in thought, and then raised his head with a smile. "I read on a Russian space website that the USSR was very suspicious of the U.S. Shuttle program, and could not imagine any nonmilitary reason for its development. This surprised me a bit, sir. I guess I was naïve. I think most Americans of the time envisioned the shuttle as a mostly civilian project. I and thousands like me could see that by simply pressurizing the cargo bay and building in life support, the shuttle could be a real interplanetary ship. Not just a three-man capsule, but a real spacecraft.

"However, your people saw it as a threat, and I suppose it was, or could have been. It spurred your Buran program. Americans of the time made jokes about your imitation shuttle and called it a bald copy. I, for one, was delighted. If both the superpowers built interplanetary ships, why, we would have a moon colony in a decade, and probably a Mars colony in another.

But the Soviet Union fell, taking pressure off the U.S. space program, and a series of accidents, American and Russian, convinced our governments to concentrate on less aggressive, less expensive programs, like that silly International Space Station. The operative words became safe and cheap. Both nations moved past the shuttle, and backward to capsules." He shrugged. "Oh, I've seen the Roscosmos and NASA websites, that crow about Mars missions. But with the only real spaceships in museums and scrap yards, I, at least, doubt they will ever occur."