Then Smith said, "Can you see the Atlantis?"
"Yeah."
"Listen carefully. The mylar is composed of the same material that is used for solar sails. They catch the solar winds. One day man may be able to pilot spacecraft with gigantic solar sails as auxiliary propulsion. Can you reach a larger section?"
"I can try. There's a ton of it around here."
Actually it was more of a matter of waiting until a large enough piece floated to within grabbing range. Remo grasped and released two before he caught one that looked big enough.
Taking one end in both hands, he lifted it over his helmet. His feet found a rip on the lower end and dug in. By stretching, Remo made the fabric taut.
"Point yourself toward the sun," Smith instructed.
Remo did. Not that it was easy. He felt like a moth riding a leaf.
"Now what?"
"Wait. You will not feel the push. But I can direct the shuttle to orient itself with its payload bay ready to catch you."
"I can't see where I'm going."
"Trust the shuttle commander."
An eternity seemed to pass. Remo saw only the fabric before his face and occasional glimpses of stars. He had no sensation of movement. No sensation of time. He was using almost no energy, so he cut his air intake to six careful sips a minute. Enough to sustain life in this state.
In the air-conditioned suit, he began to perspire.
Remo knew he was safe when a dark shadow enveloped him.
"I'm in!" he cried.
"Incredible!" said Smith.
"Hey," Remo said in a suddenly cocky voice. "We're all pros up here."
"No," returned Smith. "You should have run out of oxygen seven minutes ago."
Grabbing at the folded remote manipulator arm of the shuttle, Remo found an oxygen-supply port and plugged his suit in. Air began to flow into his suit.
"Tell them to close the payload doors and light this thing up," he shouted down to Harold Smith. "And tell Chiun I'm coming home."
A relieved Harold Smith said, "Roger," and the com link was terminated as the darkness created by the closing clamshell doors swallowed Remo Williams.
A thought struck him for the first time.
"Hey! I'm an astronaut now. How about that?"
WHEN MAJOR-GENERAL Iyona Stankevitch presented himself, the Cosmic Secret KGB file and his bottle of vodka to the defense minister of Russia, the general took both, started to read one and sampled the other as he read.
When he was done, he looked up from his desk with glowering eyes.
"You are to be congratulated, Stankevitch."
"Thank you. But this is no time for such pleasantries. I have performed my duty, and now you must perform yours."
Nodding, the defense minister buzzed his guards, who appeared instantly.
"Take this dolt out and have him shot."
Through a bleary haze, Stankevitch heard the harsh words and actually comprehended them.
"What? Why?" he sputtered.
"Had you brought this to me earlier, we would all be dead now. It is fortunate that it lands upon my desk after the crisis has passed, and not before."
"But-but Zemyatin gave clear instructions if this superweapon was ever deployed again ...."
"The crisis is over. And so is your life."
As he was dragged out of the Kremlin office, the defense minister's mocking words followed Iyona Stankevitch. "And thank you for the vodka. It was very thoughtful."
Stankevitch realized in that cold moment that the old Red Russia still lived. In a curious way, it pleased him to know this just before the people's bullets punished his vital organs ... .
Chapter 46
It was a week later, and the Master of Sinanju was seated in the bell tower of Castle Sinanju, goose quill poised over a parchment scroll weighted to the floor with four jade buttons.
"Describe the beast's eyes, my son. Were they fearsome?"
"It didn't have eyes. It looked like a giant aluminum umbrella."
"ParaSol. We know this. But future generations will be ignorant of the mundanity of the menace. Salbyol prophesied a sun dragon. I must describe a sun dragon for the edification of future Masters."
"It didn't have eyes or a tail. And I'm sick of talking about it."
"Then I will employ my awesome imagination to full effect," said Chiun, touching quill to parchment.
"You do that," said Remo.
The taboret phone rang. Remo ignored it.
"It is Smith," said Chiun, redipping his quill.
"I'm not talking to him. He hung me out to dry."
"He is still your emperor. You must speak with him."