Markov grins at her. "It would seem your network is even more extensive than my own. Brian, would you check on that?"
There's a small smile of satisfaction on Laney's face. "A lot of us space geeks like to talk. Russia has their share, China too."
"I bet. When this matter is settled, we should talk about your goals, Ms. Washburn."
I interrupt them, "After you two are done friending each other, can we talk about how we're going to clear my name?"
"Mr. Dixon, in a period of time measured in hours or days, but less than weeks, nobody will care who you are." He points to a small cabana on the other side of the pool. "There's a guest house with cable, high-speed internet and a fully stocked kitchen. You're welcome to stay there until events have come to their conclusion. Meanwhile, the rest of us are trying to solve the larger problem."
"Do the rest of you have targets on their heads?"
"Tyler did. As did Peterson and Bennet. And I don't know if you've checked the news in the last few hours, but the manhunt for you has moved to west Georgia — where a former Navy SEAL who matches your description has been breaking into cabins and going out of his way to be seen by authorities in order to lead the attention away from you."
What is he talking about? "I don't understand…"
"If you're on the run, our nemesis, Zhirov, doesn't know that we have the square and are aware of what he's up to. Likewise, neither does Silverback."
"Silverback?" asks Laney.
"A mole within US intelligence who has a number of people unwittingly working for him," says Markov.
"Yikes."
"Yikes, indeed."
Markov's rebuke stings. Suddenly I feel like a very petty man. "Okay. I get it. What can I do?"
"Right now, I need the two of you to tell me everything I need to know about rockets, space stations and anything else I should know."
"That's a lot," says Laney.
"I'm a quick study. Just start and I'll ask questions as we go along."
55
Strategy
Markov knows way more than he initially let on. As we paint the broad strokes about the current technical state of the space industry he starts drilling down into specifics about craft, equipment and who has what.
While I was able to explain things from a pilot's perspective, Laney has the real information about what is flying over our heads, how long it takes to prep a launch, what kind of shifts crews sleep in, and a myriad of other details that would have put any of my professors or instructors to shame.
Twice she corrected me about engine capacities and the cubic volume of different craft.
"Yeah, but the PPTS has 33 cubic meters of pressurized volume on the older system. The new one gets 37 with the improved scrubbers," she explains to Markov's amusement.
"Um, right. That's true."
"I think they're sending the wrong person into space," he observes.
"We try to keep the real brains away from the things that go 'boom,'" I say, trying to save face.
As we talk, he takes notes, occasionally passing them to Lieutenant Brian who goes into another room to make phone calls.
I'm not sure what Markov is thinking about, but he keeps asking questions about the layout of the K1 and its telemetry system.
"It also has a laser," I point out.
"It does?" says Laney, surprised.
I almost let out an "Ah hah," at having some information she doesn't know.
"They tried to burn a hole in my space capsule. Thankfully, Capricorn had me turn my heat shield towards the station."
"So the Russians have a defensive system onboard the K1 they can use at close range?" He does some calculations on his pad. "I assume the effective range would be 1,500 miles or so due to curvature and assuming no attenuation?"
"Yes," Laney and I say at the same time.
"This presents an interesting challenge. In a conventional situation the solution would be to try to take out the K1 using a high-velocity object and destroy it in orbit. Unfortunately, a near miss would result in them detonating the nuclear weapon.
"The second choice is to bring an explosive device with enough ordnance to destroy the K1, or at least the module holding the weapon. The problem with that is two-fold; getting close enough to do that and the aforementioned near miss scenario. Not to mention the repercussions from the Russians."
"If it's the Russian's problem, why don't we just let them deal with it?" I ask.
"Radin is in even more of a delicate position than we are. While Silverback has our intelligence agencies hamstrung, Zhirov has his ears everywhere — plus, there's not much Radin can do. Zhirov controls access to space. Even the Russian Army space wing's launch centers are controlled by him.
"Oddly enough, the proper course of action is covert intervention by the US. Zhirov's goal is taking power in Russia, not outright confrontation with America. That's why he's been expending every effort he can to capture you. He'll use the nuke, no matter what, but he wants to save it for embarrassing Radin."
"They can't just send some commandos to get him?"
"They would never get close."
"What about appealing to the crew of the K1?"
"The two commanders are Zhirov's chosen men. They control access to the compartment that contains the weapon."
"Wait? Are you saying the other crew aren't in on this?"
He shakes his head. "Not all. In fact… let's just say that you were able to escape with the assistance of someone onboard."
"Wait, what? They were trying to kill me."
"Yes. Or at least the commanders were. But at least one person on the crew was actually working with us. They're the reason we knew the weapon was onboard. When they started getting elevated radiation readings and took it to Roscosmos, the pushback made them suspicious. So they took a geiger counter on a spacewalk next to the bulkhead and confirmed their suspicions.
"This cosmonaut was then in a precarious position. Nuclear weapons in space are specifically banned by treaty. Making any kind of noise about this would have serious, if not fatal, consequences."
"With all your inside information, how come Tyler is dead?"
Markov looks at the floor, avoiding my gaze. "I explained to him the likelihood they were going to have him killed. He naively thought that his status as a senator was somehow going to protect him — at least from physical threats."
"And Silverback still got him. Why is he still active?"
"One, I'm an old man people rarely listen to. Second, Silverback is very likely more than one individual. I suspect that he or she is working in concert with someone who has influence at the highest level."
"But Silverback knows about you. Yet here you are." I'm taking my frustration out on the one living person that has an idea what's going on.
"Are you asking why Silverback hasn't killed me yet? The answer is very simple and Russian. I don't know who Silverback is, but I have my suspicions. I also have dossiers on a number of government officials containing extremely incriminating information. Affairs, bribes, most of it minor, but enough to remove any of them from their position.
"While I have my own security, my real protection comes from the fact that should I die from anything resembling suspicious circumstances, those dossiers would find themselves immediately released and a great number of people would be embarrassed and exposed — Silverback among them. It's a lot like Zhirov's weapon. It's what's keeping his enemies at bay. Fortunately for me, these dossiers are digital and not stored in any one place. Which brings me to what we need to do. While Silverback's reach is extensive, we do have allies, but we have to act very quickly. Ms. Washburn, is there someone to look after your brothers? It would probably be best if you came along with us."