Delta Green - [65]

“McKenna.”

“Milt Avery, Kevin.”

“What’s up?”

“I’m going to be cryptic since your phone system doesn’t sound all that secure. Our missing child has climbed to new heights.”

“Got that.”

“And there’s a concern that the goddess might be the subject of the child’s attention.”

Themis a target? McKenna chastised himself for not considering the likelihood of that scenario.

“I’ll get the others and we’ll head right back, Milt.”

“Not just yet, Kevin. The boss has activated the new baby and there will be three in attendance. The boss suggests that you pursue your present course. Just check in with me every few hours, okay?”

“Will do,” McKenna said.

He went back up the stairs to his room, but he didn’t think he would sleep well, and it wouldn’t be for thinking about Pearson.

DELTA GREEN

The refueling had not gone smoothly.

Nikitin had located the HoneyBee rocket in the orbit where they had left it, and Maslov had easily negotiated the course to reach it, using deft pulses of the Orbital Maneuvering System (OMS) to match the rocket’s velocity and track.

The problems arose as a result of Bryntsev’s and Filatov’s inexperience with working in a weightless environment. Bryntsev, who had been a command pilot on Tupolev Tu-26 bombers, which NATO codenamed Backfire, had once been in the Mako program, but he had not lasted long enough for a check ride into orbit.

The two men had had a rough ride into orbit, ensconced in space suits in the jury-rigged seats of the payload bay. The inability to see anything other than bulkheads and structural members had raised their apprehension during the insertion, and when Maslov had opened the payload doors next to the HoneyBee, both men had become immediately disoriented.

He had talked to them calmly and reassuringly over the intercom connection, telling them to examine their backpack readouts, the amount of gas in the cylinders, the fuel supply for the thrusters, the security of the tethers.

He had to coax them into releasing their restraints and pushing themselves down out of the bay into the limitless void of space.

Once they were clear of the craft, Maslov had fired the MakoShark’s thrusters and rolled it slightly, so that he could see through the canopy the two men floating near the HoneyBee rocket. The Earth was low to his left, and it tended to capture the attention of the two, distracting them. They were connected to the MakoShark by long, snaky tethers of nylon rope and intercom cables. The intercom cables precluded the use of the space suit radios, which might be overheard by eavesdropping radio scanners. They took a full twenty minutes to become accustomed to using the miniature thrusters of their EVA packs to maneuver their bodies into working positions.

He supervised their work, frequently becoming impatient enough to consider depressurizing his cockpit and going outside to urge them on. The only thing that restrained him was his lack of an EVA pack. He had only an emergency, thirty-minute supply of air in a portable cylinder.

They did not have the specialized tools and pumping equipment utilized by the Americans for loading and unloading the HoneyBee payload modules, and they were therefore forced into more violent disassembly methods. Following Maslov’s directions and using cutting torches, it took them nearly four hours to separate the rocket stage of the HoneyBee from the payload capsule. Once, they had to stop to refill their air supplies from the tank in the aft bay. With some effort, Bryntsev and Filatov were able to separate the two components of the rocket by several meters, allowing them access to the flexible bladder inside the payload capsule which contained the solid fuel pellets.

Another two hours were required to retrieve the equipment from the aft cargo bay pallet and connect hoses and pumps between the bladder and the MakoShark, then pump the pellets aboard the space craft.

“We are fortunate to have our own gasoline station, are we not, Boris?”

“It is not fast service, Aleks,” Nikitin replied.

“It will become much better with practice,” Maslov assured him.

Bryntsev disconnected the hoses from the MakoShark, but left them attached to the bladder, ready for the next use. He and Filatov had then worked their way back into their seats and strapped in.

“Have you pulled your tethers in, Yuri?” Maslov asked.

“A moment more, Aleks. There. It is clear.”

Maslov closed the bay doors.

Though he was frustrated at the loss of time, Maslov said, “A wonderful job, comrades.”

“It is awe-inspiring,” Bryntsev said. “Concentration is difficult, and I am sorry for the delays.”

“There is no rush. Are you now back on the craft’s air supply?”

“I am helping Filatov.” After a minute, Bryntsev added, “Yes, we are both connected. After so much infinity, Aleks, this compartment feels both secure and claustrophobic.”

“I know the sensation,” Maslov said, then tested the availability of his ordnance. At the lower edge of the Head-Up Display, eleven green lights appeared along with one red light.

“Boris, I show a malfunction of a Wasp II. Right inboard pylon, number two.”