Barbeau’s callous and cowardly inaction had shattered NATO. Abandoned by the larger Western powers, the Poles and their Eastern European neighbors had formed a new defense pact, the Alliance of Free Nations. Still aided by the Iron Wolf Squadron and Scion, the AFN had staved off Gryzlov’s repeated attacks — in the air, on the ground, and even in cyberspace — though always by the narrowest of margins.
Then, last year, the biggest bill for Barbeau’s strategic blindness and short-term political expedience had finally come due. The Russian president attacked the United States itself with his own mercenaries — using war robots reverse-engineered from captured Iron Wolf equipment. For weeks, Gryzlov’s hired killers had spread death and destruction everywhere they went. They’d even tried to kill Barbeau’s November election opponent, Texas governor John D. Farrell, plotting to sow political chaos that would cripple America for years to come. Only a risky covert intervention by Nadia, Brad, and Whack Macomber, piloting their own Iron Wolf combat machines, had saved Farrell’s life. In a brutal battle across the Texan’s sprawling ranch, they’d destroyed Gryzlov’s robots… but at a horrific price… a price that included her own amputated legs.
Watching Nadia closely, Brad saw the memory of that blood-soaked night rise in her mind. Probably for the millionth time, he thought sadly. The pain she still felt and might always feel was reflected in her taut, motionless face.
Despite that, he knew that Poland’s leader was right. Good had come out of all that carnage and suffering. The American people, finally fed up with Barbeau’s blunders, had tossed her out of office in the 2020 presidential election — replacing her with John D. Farrell.
And now Farrell, a man who viscerally understood the threat posed by Russia to the whole free world, was working hard to repair the damage inflicted by Barbeau’s shortsighted administration. Already, the United States had renewed its military, economic, and political ties with Poland and the other members of the Alliance of Free Nations. Despite protests from Moscow, American troops and aircraft were flowing into AFN bases. From now on, any further aggression by Gryzlov against the smaller Eastern European states would run the risk of sparking a war between two of the world’s great powers.
“This arrival of U.S. forces on Polish soil opens many doors,” Wilk explained. “Among them, it allows us to make significant changes to the composition of the Iron Wolf Squadron.”
Hearing that, Nadia looked surprised and slightly guilty. For months, she’d been focused almost entirely on her own efforts to regain her strength and endurance. Understandably, she just hadn’t had the time or energy to keep track of events in the larger world, even when they concerned old friends and comrades-in-arms. “What kind of changes?” she asked quietly.
“The squadron is transitioning from being a mixed unit of Polish and foreign volunteers to becoming a predominantly Polish force,” Brad told her. “Sure, a few Scion advisers and technical experts will stay to help out with some of the high-tech weapons and sensors you’ve bought. But the rest of us expats aren’t really needed here any longer. Your own guys are more than ready to take over.”
She looked stricken. “You’re leaving?”
“I’ve been offered a slot with a new Sky Masters — Scion private space enterprise,” he said evenly. “Before Stacy Anne Barbeau, in her infinite lack of wisdom, mothballed the whole program, we were flying S-19 and S-29 single-stage-to-orbit spaceplanes — which are incredibly advanced spacecraft that revolutionized manned space operations. Well, President Farrell wants those birds back in operation and flying. And pronto.”
Nadia swallowed hard. “Sky Masters has asked you to be among those who will fly these spaceplanes?”
Brad nodded. “Yep.”
“Gratulacje,” she said softly. “Congratulations. That is a wonderful opportunity. A… a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Of course, you must go. I… I… understand.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “But I will miss you.”
“Not so fast, Nadia Rozek,” Brad said flatly. “I haven’t said I’d take the job yet.”
Taken off guard, she stared back at him. “Why not?”
He grinned down at her. “Because Sky Masters doesn’t want just me. They want you, too.”
Her eyes widened. “They want me? To fly in space? To become an astronaut?”
Brad nodded again. “If you take the gig, you’re slated for training as a spaceplane copilot and EVA specialist.”
“EVA?”
“Extravehicular activity,” he clarified. “A spacewalker.”
“Walking in space?” Awkwardly, Nadia glanced down at her artificial legs. “Even with these?”
“Your prosthetics won’t be a hindrance. Not in zero-G,” Brad assured her. “They might even be an advantage. I’ve read a bunch of reports by astronauts with a lot of EVA time. They say most of the work is done with hands and forearms, and that legs often just get in the way. One NASA astronaut, a guy named Doug Wheelock, actually described a spacewalk as less a ‘walk’ and more like a space ballet danced on your fingertips.”
Nodding thoughtfully, she turned to Piotr Wilk. “What do you think, Mr. President?”
“I hope you will consider this offer of an assignment with Sky Masters and Scion very seriously,” he replied. “For Poland and for the whole free world, space represents the future.” He studied her face. “Ultimately, though, considering the dangers involved, this must be your own decision, Major.”
Nadia glanced back at Brad. “Dangers?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, with a lopsided grin. “I guess I should warn you that training for space operations will be tough… and dangerous as hell. Just for example, when you light the candle on an S-19 Midnight or an S-29 Shadow spaceplane, you’re riding on top of thousands of pounds of highly explosive fuel. If there’s even a tiny glitch, just one small malfunction…”
“Bad things happen?” she guessed, with the faintest hint of a wry smile of her own.
“Let’s just say you could easily end up right in the middle of the biggest fireworks show anyone on the ground is ever likely to see,” Brad agreed. “The man who developed the engines for the spaceplane, Hunter Noble, is nicknamed ‘Boomer’ for a reason.”
“Good Lord,” Nadia breathed.
“Then we can move on to explosive decompression, radiation hazards, micrometeorites, and a bunch of other perils. It’s sort of a long list.”
“So essentially you are asking me to join you… and risk being killed in any number of interesting new ways?” Nadia said.
“Pretty much,” he admitted.
Smiling broadly now, she slipped her arm through his and laughed. “Very well, I accept. You really do know the way to a girl’s heart, Brad McLanahan.”
Three
From the outside, the Lubyanka hid its sordid history of terror and brutality behind the six stories of a beautiful neo-Baroque façade of yellow brick set above two lower levels layered in dark gray stone. For more than a century, the building had served as a headquarters for Russia’s secret police — whether they were known as the Cheka, the GPU, the OGPU, the NKVD, or the KGB. Year after year and decade after decade, terrified political prisoners were hustled through its doors and thrown into the cruel hands of the torturers and executioners who lurked in the Lubyanka’s dank and bloodstained basement.