Eagle Station

He shook his head. “Hell, no. We didn’t come two hundred and fifty thousand miles out from Earth to swap polite lies with a bunch of Russian and Chinese assholes. Let ’em sweat.”

Command Center, Korolev Base

That Same Time

“No response, sir,” Captain Yanin said.

Tian shrugged. “Hardly surprising.” He turned to Lavrentyev. “But at least Marshal Leonov’s analysis was correct. The Americans must have positive orders that prevent them from attacking us without provocation.”

The Russian nodded silently. A nerve twitched at the corner of his right eye. The S-29 was now less than one hundred and fifty kilometers from Korolev Base — passing south of them as it orbited along the lunar equator. Even against the infinite darkness of space, the black-winged spaceplane was plainly visible to their own long-range infrared cameras. Although its wing- and fuselage-mounted thrusters still fired repeatedly — pushing the enemy spacecraft through a range of random evasive maneuvers — the American spacecraft continually rotated to keep its nose and laser weapons turret aimed in their direction. Their own radar warning receivers emitted a continuous warbling set of tones, indicating that the S-29 was still scanning them with its powerful radar.

“The range to the enemy spaceplane is beginning to increase,” Major Liu reported, checking the tracking data supplied by the distant Kondor-L radar satellite. “Its orbit is now carrying it away from us.”

Over the next minutes, as the distance between them widened inexorably, Tian kept his attention on Yanin. As more and more data poured into his computer, the younger Russian cosmonaut was fully immersed in his study of the American spaceplane’s evasive maneuvers. Since the S-29’s crew initiated their automated program, the Kondor-L radar satellite had detected literally hundreds of different maneuvers. Each was cataloged, correlated, and analyzed to find some pattern… but so far without any effective result. Within certain broad parameters, the enemy’s movements were foreseeable. For example, the spaceplane never left its larger orbital track or rolled or pitched or yawed in any way that would take its laser weapon off-target. But even within those known limits, there still seemed no way to calculate precisely where the Shadow would be at any given second.

The Russian plasma rail gun was astonishingly effective against spacecraft caught by surprise or locked into a predictable orbit or trajectory, Tian thought coolly. But it was not invincible. Against an alerted enemy, the weapon had weaknesses the Americans had clearly learned to exploit. Still, the enemy spaceplane faced its own constraints, including a hard cap on its thruster fuel reserves. If its ability to maneuver was restricted in any way, or the Russians scored a lucky hit, that S-29 was dead.

“Range to the American spaceplane is now four hundred and eighty-five kilometers,” Liu said. “Still opening at one point six one kilometers per second.”

Expectantly, Tian turned toward Lavrentyev. Based on their best available intelligence, the S-29’s weapons laser was now beyond its effective range.

The Russian colonel nodded back with a set, hard face. He took one short breath and then snapped out a string of orders. “Bring our radars online, Dmitry! And activate the plasma gun!”

“Yes, sir!” Yanin punched controls at his station. “Radars powering up. Plasma gun elevating into firing position.”

Shadow Bravo One

That Same Time

“We’re three-hundred-plus miles downrange, Dusty,” Hannah Craig said after a check of her own navigation display. “If those shit weasels are going to try anything on this orbit, it’s gonna be soon.” Miller nodded.

“Warning, warning. X-band and L-band radars detected,” the S-29’s computer announced calmly. “At ten o’clock low. Range three hundred ten miles.”

Their zoomed-in cameras showed antennas rising smoothly out of two of the rock-and-dirt-covered domes. The center dome slid open, revealing a stubby cylinder surrounded by electronic components in a six-arm, starfish-shaped array.

“Plasma rail gun!” Craig said tersely.

“Confirmed,” Miller grunted. His fingers flashed across one of his multifunction displays as he gave the flight control computer instructions to set up a new main engine burn.

Suddenly the Russian rail gun disappeared behind a dazzling pulse of light… just as the S-29 skidded sideways, shoved hard to the left by multiple maneuvering thrusters firing along its right side. A wave of deafening static roared through their headsets and then faded to silence. A toroid of highly ionized plasma had just slashed right past them at six thousand miles per second.

“They missed!” Craig said gleefully.