“Da, vozhd’,” the second MiG-31’s pilot responded. “Two is ready.”
The lead pilot completed his before-release checklists, turned to center the flight-director bars in his heads-up display, gradually fed in power until he was in afterburner zone, waited for airspeed to build up past Mach 1, then pulled up into a steep climb and continued feeding in power until he was in zone-five afterburner. Now climbing at ten thousand feet a minute, he punched through fifty thousand feet. The airspeed had hit Mach 1.5, but now it was in a gradual decline as the pilot traded airspeed for altitude, but that was not a concern for him: keeping the flight-director bars, which depicted his necessary course and climb angle as broadcast from the headquarters tracking station, was his main job.
“Datalink has downloaded final targeting data,” the weapon-systems officer behind the pilot reported. “Data transmission to Osa commencing. Ten seconds to go.”
At sixty thousand feet the pilot received his first low-fuel warning—the two huge Soloviev D30-F6 engines in full zone-five afterburner were gulping fifty thousand pounds of fuel an hour, yet it carried only thirty thousand pounds total—airspeed had decreased to just three hundred knots, and climb rate was down to three thousand feet per minute. “Data transmission complete, five seconds to launch,” the weapon-systems officer said. The pilot was relieved—in ten seconds, if they didn’t pull out of this climb, they were going to stall and drop out of the sky like a rock. “Three . . . two . . . one . . . missile away.”
The MiG-31D made a shallow turn to the left, and both crewmembers were able to watch as the Wasp missile ignited its solid-propellant motor and began its climb into space on a long yellow-and-red column of fire and smoke. The Wasp was a derivative of the 9K720 Iskander short-range theater ballistic missile. It received flight-path data from a ground tracking station, used its inertial guidance system to follow the flight path, then activated an imaging infrared terminal guidance system to home in on its target. Even traveling nearly vertical, it traveled well over a mile per second. Twenty seconds later, the second MiG-31 launched its own Wasp missile . . .
. . . on an intercept course for the S-19 Midnight spaceplane that was hurtling through space over Russia to rendezvous with Armstrong Space Station.
ARMSTRONG SPACE STATION
MOMENTS LATER
“Missile launch detection!” Christine Rayhill, the terrestrial-weapons officer on Armstrong Space Station, shouted. “Two Russian Wasp ASATs launched from Kamchatka!”
Kai Raydon mashed the “all-call” button on his console. “Combat stations!” he shouted, trying to keep his voice under control. “All personnel to combat stations, this is not a drill!” To Valerie Lukas he said, “All defensive systems to auto, Valerie—we’ll have to put it back in MANUAL when the spaceplane approaches. What’s the status of Skybolt?”
“Still deactivated,” Valerie said. “We’ve just started disconnecting Starfire.”
“Connect it back up—we might need it,” Kai said. “Where are the students?”
“I’m right here,” Brad said, attached to a bulkhead beside Valerie’s console. “Casey is in the Skybolt module. What should I do?”
“Keep watch over the monitors and sing out if you see something that looks dangerous,” Kai replied. “Point it out to Sergeant Lukas, or anyone else, if she’s busy. I can always use another set of eyes.”
“Should I get into a space suit?” Brad said on intercom once he’d donned his oxygen mask and activated it.
“It’s too late,” Kai said. “All the modules should have been sealed up by now. Command-module personnel have to rely on damage-control crewmembers to assist.” Kai didn’t want to think about what would eventually happen to all of them in the case of a major hull breach, oxygen or no, but one hundred percent oxygen was the best they had. He hit another intercom button. “Boomer, say your status?”
“We’ll be off in ten minutes, General,” Boomer replied. He and Ernesto Hermosillo had docked with Armstrong Space Station and were supervising the off-loading of supplies from the cargo bay and refueling, and as soon as the alert was sounded they had terminated off-loading and began preparing to undock.
“All defensive weapons except Skybolt are active and on auto,” Valerie reported. “Starfire, can you give me a—”
“It’s the S-19!” Christine Rayhill shouted. “The Wasp is targeting the S-19! Intercept in two minutes! Two missiles inbound!”
“Shit!” Kai swore. He hit a button on his console. “Midnight Two, this is Armstrong, red Wasp, repeat, red Wasp.” On intercom he asked, “What’s their range to station?”