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navy stands ready, gentlemen,” Admiral Cher- cherovin added. “The Brezhnev battle group can easily control
the region, and our naval aviation forces from South Yemen and Vietnam will intercept all American rapid deployment air forces.”
                Each of the
commanders of the armed forces, in turn, weighed in with their enthusiasm and
support for Czilikov’s invasion plan. But such overwhelming support didn’t
especially hearten the Minister of Defense. Intimidated military commanders
tended to make unreliable decisions. He was about to make some comment about
his staff’s excessive enthusiasm when he noted a quiet but animated discussion
between Deputy Minister Alexi Ivanovich Rhomerdunov, commander in chief of
aerospace forces, and one of his staff members. The staffer was all but being
pushed back into his seat by Rhomerdunov, who had to be at least thirty years
older than his enthusiastic aide.
                “Is there a
problem, Rhomerdunov?”
                All heads
swiveled in the direction of the seventy-year-old head of air defense forces.
Rhomerdunov straightened in his seat, stabbing an angry glare in his aide’s
direction. “No, Comrade Minister.”
                Czilikov
nodded and was about to issue his orders to the Kollegiya when Rhomerdunov
cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Minister Czilikov”—he again looked
apprehensively in the aide’s direction—“perhaps there are some important points
to be made about this Iranian offensive.”
                The members
of the Kollegiya froze and stared at Rhomerdunov, as if he had just badly
insulted the minister of defense. Czilikov said nothing. Then, without further
prompting, Rhomerdunov’s aide stood and straightened to attention. The officer
was tall, lean, powerfully built. Ukrainian, obviously, judging by his wide
shoulders, flat nose, and square jaw, Czilikov decided. He hit on the man’s
name as he began to speak.
                “Sir, I
am—”
                “I know who
you are, General Lieutenant Govorov. As the Soviet Union ’s
first space shuttle cosmonaut and a Hero of the Soviet Union you’re known to us all.” Czilikov ground a fist into his palm in barely
restrained anger. “Your contributions to the scientific and military excellence
of our country forgive many... transgressions. Since you have seen fit to grant
yourself permission to speak before the Kollegiya, please proceed. I’m sure
everyone wants to hear from the new commander of the space-defense command.”
                “My
apologies, sir,” which was as far as Govorov’s apology went Most officers below
the rank of three-star general would be a mass of jelly speaking in front of
the Kollegiya, even without committing a major breach of protocol. But it
didn’t seem to affect young Govorov.
                “Well, proceed, General Lieutenant.”
                Govorov stayed at attention. “It is my
opinion that this mission to attack Iran will ultimately fail.”
                Rhomerdunov
straightened in his seat and looked straight ahead, as if steeling himself for
the executioner. All eyes in the room moved from Rhomerdunov’s granite face to
the surprised Marshal Czilikov.
                “I’ve
heard,” Czilikov said, “that subtlety is not exactly your style. I see it is
true.” He looked to Rhomerdunov, who kept staring straight ahead. Well,
Czilikov thought, it seemed the old war horse Rhomerdunov wasn’t afraid to
challenge the party, even if it was indirectly through his deputy Govorov.
                As for
Govorov, he took Czilikov’s silence as a cue to continue. “The Americans have a
device that is not only capable of warning of any impending invasion but also
of directing American and NATO counterforces. This device, sir, is the
Armstrong Space Station—”
                “The space
station? Their