The last thing to go on was the helmet. The visor was blacked out so that Remo could see out but no one could see his face.
Then he was being led to the huge white transport van.
"This is a proud day. My son, the star voyager," said Chiun.
"It's 'astronaut,'" grumbled Remo.
"What do you think the word means, ignorant one?"
"I just hope someone checked the O-rings on this thing," Remo muttered hollowly.
Commander McSweeny was still cursing under his breath when the countdown reached zero and the thunder of the shuttle's multiple engines slammed at his tense spine and the sensation of leaving his stomach behind overtook everything. He had a big bird to fly. And if that was all NASA wanted this trip, they were going to get the best shuttle pilot who ever flew.
MAJOR-GENERAL STANKEVITCH received the news with a weird mixture of anger and relief.
"All lines to the Kremlin are tied up," his secretary reported.
"These damn phones!" he exploded.
"It is not the phone system. All lines are in use. There is something up."
"Keep trying. The Motherland depends upon us. I will keep drinking."
ONCE IN SPACE, Commander McSweeny was fed his instructions by ground control.
"You are to locate and overtake solar mirror approximately a sixteenth of a mile in diameter."
"That won't be hard to miss," McSweeny grunted.
Maneuvering the orbiter, he found it.
"Is that a qNM logo?" he muttered.
"It is. They make great avionics."
"Okay, what do we do now?" McSweeny asked Houston.
"Pace it."
The Atlantis fell in beside the slowly turning mirror.
"Houston, Atlantis is flying right next to it." "Okay, Atlantis. Open payload bay doors."
"Opening doors." A minute later it was, "Doors open."
"Stand by, Atlantis. Your cargo is self-deploying."
"What the hell kind of cargo is self-?"
Then an astronaut who was not a member of the Atlantis crew came floating out on an EVA line. He carried no MMU thrust-pack. Only on a flexible tether, but somehow he gravitated toward the big solar mirror as if he were swimming through space. That, of course, was impossible. No one could swim through space. Not unless he could somehow glide along on the solar winds.
As McSweeny and his crew watched with utter fascination, the astronaut with the blackout visor moved unerringly toward the solar mirror that dwarfed them all into insignificance.
In space, it should have been impossible.
But there it was.
WHEN HIS SECRETARY Came back with the word that the Kremlin was still incommunicado, Major-General Stankevitch grabbed up the fateful file and announced, "I will take the file to them personally."
On the way out, he grabbed a fresh bottle of vodka, too.
REMO WILLIAMS HAD NO EYES for the beauty of the blue earth 120 miles below him. The stark starlight held no fascination, either. His dark eyes were fixed on the gigantic ParaSol 2001 slowly spinning before him.
He felt like a fly trying to catch a spiderweb.
The moment the great shuttle cargo doors had split open, Remo launched himself with a two-footed kick. He was amazed at his own lightness in zero gravity. But he had no time to enjoy the sensations of weightlessness.
The looming ParaSol was filling his field of vision. It gleamed like a plate made of soft aluminum foil, except for the gigantic black areas that spelled out three letters that had reignited the Cold War: "MNp."
And in his helmet earphone, a familiar lemony voice intruded.
"Destroyer."
"Here," said Remo, acknowledging Smith's use of his rarely spoken code name.
"You are looking at a disk of aluminized Mylar on a folding-strut frame. Do you see the focusing lens?"
"Yeah."
"That is your target. According to my estimates, it has been collecting solar radiation from its rear collectors and discharging energy every twenty-eight minutes. It is due to fire again in four minutes, twenty-eight seconds."
"What's the situation on the ground?" asked Remo.
"A mile-wide circular section of the Sahara has been turned to glass. No known casualties."
"Our luck can't hold."
"The President is on the hot line to Moscow, explaining the situation. The Russian leadership is wary but willing to listen. They are tracking the ParaSol, too. They expect results."
"I'm floating as fast as I can."
"Listen carefully. Its present orbit will take it over Russia, Iran and Saudi Arabia. You must disable it before any of those nations are struck."
"Almost there," said Remo as the great disk all but enveloped him in its shadow. It billowed and rippled like silvery Saran Wrap.
"I am watching you in real time through my GEODSS link."