The days at the satellite research facility were always heady and strange. The constant hum of the equipment, the glass walls that allowed the view into the biggest clean room in the world, were all silent due to the rumor that one of the prizes of all the research was now missing. Blue Savior was reported to be missing. The control center in Colorado and Greenbelt at 04:28 saw what they thought was a radar ghost of the Discus satellite.

It had seemed strange that the bird suddenly had a ghost appear next to it in orbit. It was thought that the image was a little strange as the normal weather was heavy and had often played the images of the satellites. Cold and rainy for the last few days have as always proven to be the worst part of the systems background. From the initial design to he installation, the system was always having some sort of problem. The contractor, unified systems of Silicon valley was found to have cheated on some of specifications that were specified in the original contract. It was found out to late to save the bird due to the launch and the needs for the United States it's security.

Saturday Morning, April 12th, 1989

The conference room was awash with a sea of humanity. All the chief engineers were called together to discuss the matter of the Discus being missing. The walls told of their past success, filed with the models of the "birds" that have flown from the minds and the coop they so diligently worked from. A tall, slender man walked in and all became silent as he entered. Good Morning! The voice was most commanding, as the group stood transfixed on the man. Dr. Philo T. Farnsworth had always garnered attention from the staff. A known inventor with a flair for the impossible, he had headed some of the more experimental projects of the lab. This project, Blue Savior, was the next in a long series of satellites that had graced his career. "Would you all take your seats." The mass of scientist and took their seats in the amphitheater and waited for the news.

"As you may have already heard, Blue Savior is missing! As you know, the Blue Savior is the first satellite link with our nuclear triad defense system and the main communications system to issue the "Go" codes. I am going to ask each team leader as to the opinions as to what the story may be and possible solutions to bring this to successful close of business. I would like to add that the orbit team has performed the analysis of the past 100 orbits and have stated that the bird was not in a disintegrating orbit.

I know that it is short notice and that is why you have been called in. We need your analysis of the possible problems that may have occurred and a solution to bring this to an early conclusion. As you know, we have had a long period of cooperation with certain departments of the military even though many of you here are not well liked by them and vice-versa.

So, I would like to bring to your attention that today we have the presence of the man who is in charge of the Blue Savior project and commanding general of the United States Space Command at Cheyenne Mountain. General! General Lewis Abrams was a three star general with enough medals and memories that filled one man's life and career. From the plains in Korea to today, he had a presence that brought the leadership of the military to the group of long haired scientist now before him.

Good Morning Ladies and Gentlemen! As you have been informed,the Blue Savior is missing! How and why is a mystery to me, as his voice rose in anger to the crowd. I would like some answers to this problem and I want them fast! Slamming his fist on the podium before him. His "love" of the scientific community was well known as pure hell to those who had to work with him. Always he was stymied by the need to draw the civilian geeks into his world. When Blue Savior was conceived as the backbone of the nuclear alert communications system, he was placed in charge as the warrior in him wanted so badly to wreck havoc on the enemy that had for so long hounded the united states and it's allies with the constant flare-ups around the world. Always a game of chess, allowing the various interests of the two superpowers to clash without the actual nations coming to a firefight face to face. But due to some matter of a senator from California, the project could not get approval from the Appropriations committee without a peaceful type "shadow" mission applied to the satellite.

Water! God Damn water! General Abrams was not amused by the fact that his bird was busy searching the deserts of the Southwest looking for water to feed the thirst of L.A.. OK, enough of the niceness to all of you! I want some answers as to the problem of the bird. Did it fail? Is it out of orbit? So what's is the story, Dr. Farnsworth? Dr. Farnsworth turned and looked at the orbit team leader, Dr. Karen Honicker.

Well Karen? Karen Honicker stood up from the group, a small but full figured woman who had always drawn attention to herself with her overabundance of breasts. Long blonde dark hair that played at her waist, she would captivate men with her brilliant blue-gray eyes and pouting smile.

Karen was known to have a wild streak in her with this stayed academic background. Always having a bit of a flirt to her manner, she was the rumored to have done topless dancing or had been a high class call girl to support her schooling. But that fact was never confirmed, even in her security background check it was never developed. What was known was that Karen went to a number eastern preppie girls schools, then to Vassar, and on to the University of Pennsylvania to study computer science with her finally ending up at CalTech studying Astrophysics and Chemical & Electrical Engineering. Her career was growing faster and faster with each new project she became associated with. With her final resting place being at the JPL here dream of childhood became a reality.

It seemed that the development of the space program had always fascinated her. From seeing the early launches of the Gemini program to the landing of the first men on the moon, she had always found the program to more than stimulating. Her favorite sexual fantasy was always to sleep with an astronaut. To see if the rocket was really "ready to fly"! But as always, her fantasies had to be held in check.

Karen looked directly at Dr. Farnsworth and the General and stayed quite steady in her stance. Dr., General, we have had no firing of the stabilizer jets in the past 48 hours and can see no reason for the bird's failure. Failure! bellowed General Abrams. Failure is not acceptable to me or to the country. The many years of his service to the country all came crashing in at this moment. The Blue Savior project was to be the crown jewel of his career, but now with the bird missing, it was nothing more than past glass set in cheap white metal. Dr. Farnsworth ! He bellowed, what do you have to say to all this mess?

He barked again, this time at Karen! Miss Honicker, when you were brought to the team, you stated to me that the bird was able perform well beyond any expectations and that she would be safe and secure from any sort of glitches. Have we had contact with the tracking stations in Australia, Madrid, Arizona? Have all the stations reported that they saw the same thing happen?

Did this distinguished the brain trust that I have kept for all these many years lose a screw or what? Or is it that the damn controllers have gone mad and let it spin out of orbit. Do I have to start doing a check on the personnel around here. We know you all are smoking pot all the time, and don't tell me that you people don't! I have enough on all of you so that you couldn't get jobs programming games for the fucking Nintendoes. So I want some actions instead of the thinking that you all seem to do all day. And one other thing,

that god damn music that you play over my PA system at my base, what is it, the Grateful Dead or Dimwits, could you all try and turn down the music just a bit and one other thing, if you are going to play this music, then at least could you try and play something that we all can understand.

The thought that the general was possibly mellowing in his old age went like a wave through the group. But just as this wave reached a crest throughout the room, the crash of the thought came forward with the sound of the general's voice. All right people, listen up! Is my satellite, my satellite spinning its way out to Mars. Are the god damn Martians listening to us on their Walkman's. What's the story my good doctor? Dr. Farnsworth turned as the condescending remark was being spoken. First you people tell me that the sensors needed to find the fucking water are not available and that the only one's that are in any way close are on the Landsat bird now rotting in space. Then you tell me that it would take 2 years to develop them, then you tell me that the communications system that we plan to use, is to large for the bird, due to your need for the safety crap for the water sensors, and now you give me this failure crap!

No way! Not in this man's Airforce, would you get away with this bullshit. But you are all so lucky that you are civilian puke's. So stop playing those fucking video games on your workstations, and get me some answers now!

N.S.A. Headquarters, Fort Meade, MD January, 6th, 1988

Good Morning Mr. Director, the daily briefings are in with a few notes of interest that are shall I say, offer a new major intercept gem, said Major Tom Benton. Director Williams walked as always, briskly to his desk. A tall brickhouse of a man, former West Point, true to his demeanor of a warrior, always looking out for the nation that he loved so well. Coffee, Sir? No thank you, Tom, the doctor said that I should cut down on the stimulates in my life! I asked if that meant that I should change positions and he said maybe I should become a fishing guide in the Cascade mountains.

A small chuckle came from both men. So Tom, how is the report this morning? There's a bit of news from the telephone logs involving the Soviet Space Academy, the GRU and the office of Dr. Vladistov's. Vladistov's office remarked the director. Yup, said tom! It seems that they are up to something with the MIR. Well, that seems to be new. Director Williams was always looking for the edge in the silent service of the spy agency. The constant battle of the 2 superpower's giant ears brought out the thrill to the director. Each day, the powers would maintain the secret war that was far removed for the respective populations. Collecting, sorting and using the resources that streamed in, the war goes well, he thought. Again, the war, day in day out. But with the problem of the Bear and the grumbling of the people, were bring the days of peaceful control coming to an end. The farmers around Leningrad dumping milk on the street, factory workers in Stalingrad staging a slowdown with some of the facilities taking risky steps by closing down against the will of Moscow.

 As the director read the daily brief, he scanned for the phone intercepts. The traffic from the Space Academy in Leningrad, the directorate of the Strategic Rocket Forces Command, the GRU directorate and the laboratories of a Dr. Gregor Valdistov. Vladistov's office was familiar to the director. The good doctor was up to games again he thought to himself. Now what? Always the chess player, the director considered his opponent to be worthy. Dr. Valdistov was known as the father of the Soviet space effort. Always coming up with new and inventive ways to protect the motherland, he developed the OTH radar based in Krasnyack in the central portion of the high plains of Russia. The damn "woodpecker"! This radar was known as the one site that was always a thorn in the side of the arms talks. The technology was simple enough. Take a radar beam, and instead of having a dish spinning around the place, it used a simple antenna to rotate the beam electronically. Bouncing the beam of the radar on the ionosphere and being able to see from the North Pole to a area close to the equator. The vantage point of incoming missiles was one that could not be ignored. The few extra minutes could mean life or death to the country under attack. Well, we have here something of interest again! remarked Director Williams. What's that sir?, as Tom turned with his coffee in hand and spilling some on the royal blue carpet. It seems that the good doctor has a new trick up his sleeve. Tom stood there as if frozen waiting for the words from the directors lips. The good doctor has come up with some sort of interception system. I wonder if this damn thing is for their SDI program. It would have to be, in any case! The major opened his mouth and said "Sounds typical to me as they are always playing for the win". Yea, I know, Tom, the damn game! Again, Again! I don't know what the story is. There is no money for them to be playing these games, but it seems that they are! Well, I'll be dammed, Major Tom remarked with a bit of surprise to his voice. You know, they have had that stupid radar up and running for a while, and we all know that they are not using it for deep space tracking as they always claim. And with all the supposed "work" that they are doing with the Mir, it makes you begin to wonder with all the so-called détente that is going on these days. I just don't get it! Calm down ,Tom, we have all the time in the world to figure this one out. Besides, I have the matter of the Soviet delegation arriving in the next few days to deal with. All the damn intercepts that we have to perform on the phones and that damn radio system that they have set up with the satellite. And of course we have the test flight of the TwinHammer missile system to contend with. You know that the Sov's are not going to be pleased with this little toy we have cooked up. I know just what you mean!, said Tom. Well, I will get down to the office and get the staff going for the day, so that we can keep our jobs. Tom, you will never retire until you make General or at least Chief of Staff. Oh well, Sir, you think I would ever want to leave all this? All this heaven with Congress constantly breathing down our backs? Heavens No! With a chuckle Williams turned towards the window and looked out with snow falling around the city. He thought that Washington always looked so pretty with the snow covering the countryside. This area, this beautiful countryside that would join the vast radioactive canyon that would be blasted out when the big one finally came.

GRU, Moscow Center, January, 1985

As usual, the winter wind whipped down the streets with the feeling of a freight train barreling down a track. Cutting through the long gray uniform coat, Col. Igor Vladimir Bresnov pulled it tighter against his frame as he walked towards the directorate building. Reaching into his coat as he approached the outer checkpoint. The young soldier snapped to attention as Col. Bresnov approached. Good Morning Comrade Colonel, how are you this chilly morning? Just fine, and frozen! I agree, it could be a bit warmer today. As always the weather people are always wrong with their damn predictions of temperature, but who can control the wind with it being so strong.

Do you have your papers? Comrade Col.? With the briskness of the wind, the conversation went from social to military. Of course, and with a firm flick of his wrist, he flipped open his paybook and ID.. All in order, Private? Yes sir! Please proceed to the next checkpoint and check in with the sergeant of the guard. Good day private, try to keep warm.

Thank you, Col., I will try to keep that thought. The Col. smiled as he walked, a faint smile none the less. The private caught it in his eye, and returned the same. Both men knew that such things were not permitted in these areas. Always the stayed, stern attitude that was so persuasive in this building.

The walk to the next outpost was fifty yards ahead. Again, he flipped his papers and was waved through, and to the next checkpoint. This time, the guard was waiting inside the double doors that entered into the great hall of the Peoples' Army building. The huge chandeliers hanging with the paintings of great battles and the hero's of the Soviet Union all hanging with the reverence and silence of a church. He walked down the hall, his hells making the clicking as the strode upon the marble to the bank of elevators ahead. The doors, ornate with hammerings of metal sculpture parted and an attendant snapped to attention. Good Morning Comrade Col., your floor please? 12, please! The ride up to the twelfth floor was slow and the elevator creaked as it rose the flights to his stop. The doors opened, the main waiting room of the office was open and drafty.

The secretary, a woman who looked as she had fought in the great battle of Moscow. Stern and polite, she ushered him to the front of the room. Good Day, Comrade Col., would you care for a glass of tea while you wait? No thank you. I'll wait for the meeting! As you wish. A buzzer on her desk sounded, Col. you may go in now! Col. Bresnov rose and removed his coat, turned to the door of the meeting room and turned the knob. As he entered, the room was dark and stayed. The members of the group were the Soviet Strategic Rocket Forces Select Committee on Intelligence gathered to discuss the progress of the clandestine space program. The new space station that would be connected to the now orbiting MIR, the Snowflake, shuttle sitting on the pad at the Balkinour Cosmodrome in Serblansk in western Siberia. This shuttle was almost an exact copy of the American version, but had a few different systems that made it stand out for the American. First being that the missions were to be controlled by the ground controllers, the second being that the power of the rockets.

Good Morning Col. Bresnov, would you please take your seat and we will begin. The Col. sat down and looked at the briefing papers before him. His presentation was prepared by the Office of Cosmic Intelligence. He, being a white Russian with his family ties to the Politburo, was about to discuss the advances being made for the launch and the cargo that would be placed in orbit. This cargo, would allow the Kremlin to gain control of western Europe and hold it at bay from the NATO and American forces. Additionally, the grip on the eastern regions now seeking their freedoms from the central control of Moscow, would be placed on hold due to the Americans being tied up with this battle of wit's that was to soon take place. This meeting was to place the control of the Eurasian continent in the hands of the Soviet empire without firing a shot on the soil of the Motherland.

Good Morning Comrade Chairman, Col. Bresnov stated with a flair of arrogance, but restraint. Our plan to intercept the American Nuclear Defense Communications satellites is proceeding as planned. As you have all been briefed, our program of selective stealth-ing of our satellites and the MIR has been a thorn in the side of the American Military Space Command.

From the communications intercepts that we have been able to pick up when we activate our technology, we have been able to hear the confusion that issue's when we play our games with them. They think that the orbit has changed in the sky and with the ability to project a false radar image from our Meteor satellites, we have been able to spoof them into thinking that the bird is actually 50 to 100 KM away from it true position.

It offers a very interesting possibility for their Anti-Sat weapons that are radar guided. As you know, our scientists have been working on the stealthing of the space station while being in the capture mode of the

DISCUS or MILSTAR birds. Again, you have been informed that our scientist have found a way to shield and reflect the radar signals that the birds would produce and at the same time record and playback their transponder signals without the American command and control being aware that they lost their capsule. Very Good Comrade Col.. But have you not taken into account that the Americans will notice that their satellites will be out of communication for a number of minutes while the space station in changing orbits? Or the size of the satellite that we plan to intercept. Is not the Milstar with it's solar panels a large object to cover. From our pictures of the platform, we have been able to discern that it is at least 25 meters long and 4 meters wide. With the solar panels, the total width comes to over 40 meters wide. This is not a small area to cover Comrade Col.. "As you know, members of this esteemed committee, we have developed a way to enclose the targets with a bubble of electronic interference and signals that match the targets emissions to perfection. Our recording of the telemetry from the satellites has continued for a period of 2 and a half years has been most successful. We have discovered a small blip in their signals and the way that they are transmitted. It is noticed that they are not able to discriminate from the signals that we have been transmitting in place of the "birds" signals. In reference to the signals, we have found that the birds are not able to maintain enough power to penetrate through our fields surrounding them. It is found that the birds are only able to transmit with a maximum of 10 watts.It seems that the birds for the most part would only transmit their data in bursts, but the set-up of their program required that the birds be in constant operation for a period of 3 months to align the sensors and the Mir was always listening for the signals for the alignment.

In that operation, we found that the satellites often repeat from a recorder, a series of chirps that we feel are basic health of the satellite checks to the ground stations before they commence with the data transmissions of the day. In addition, we have discovered that the United States Ballistic Submarine Fleets also have to send some sort of signalinging for the bird to allow for the tracking by the submarines. And it is also found that the birds only transmit to the submarines during a coded time period each day. This time period seems to come within the confines of the date of the day with an addition of 4 hours plus or minus of the date.

It does offer some interesting problems to the situation. But our signals forces have been keeping up round the clock intercepts to place a better time period on the problem. From a darkened corner, a throat cleared gruffly. Comrade Col., please continue with your work. "General Hassalov?" Is that you?, Sir? "Yes", Comrade Col., I still keep a watch on you and your continuing career. If you continue with all this excellent work, you will be here with me sooner than my old bones would ever think!" Your kindness, General, has always assisted in my work for our country. I have always thought of your teachings from my day's and classes on tactics taught by such an esteemed hero of the Motherland. They have served me well in our campaigns against the Mujahadeen, but as you know, I serve where needed and called.

Outstanding work! Comrade Col. you are to take this information to the Dr. Valdistov at the Space Academy. He will be most interested in the signals analysis that you have provided to us. "There is one more matter to discuss with you that we feel is important to the goals of the mission." As we have read from your service record, you have performed very well in your service to our brother state to the South East. We know of your gallant and sometimes brutal, but required acts against the rebels. The way's that you would win their hearts and minds through terror was most rewarding to save our forces from these backward peoples armed with Western technology. We salute you in your endeavors for the state! But the time to relish in your work and to relax, has come to our attention. You are ordered to take the next month from your life and to enjoy yourself in any manner you so choose. Please, we have made arrangements for you to have the finest that our country has to offer. You will be well rewarded for your service. Take the time, enjoy your self and then come back to us ready to continue!

KGB Headquarters, Moscow, June, 1984

Director Sergeyhe Blinchikov, head of the KGB was always looking for the ways to destroy the west's grip on the ways of the Soviet thought. Always having to expend resources that were so precious with the ever growing deficit in the arms race. This day was to be like the others, papers on senior dissents being watched, operations and influences exerted on the various sympathetic groups around the world. The damn war in Afghanistan was always taking away from his budget. The loss of troops was not of a concern.

But the losses of the trained intelligence officers were grating on him. It was as expensive as training some of the pilots of the large transports bring home the bodies of the young men lost in the mountains by stone throwing rebels. As always, coming to his offices was a series of grunts and waves to numerous officers as they snapped to attention while he passed their stations. Pictures of his predecessors displayed on the walls like funeral wreaths lining a mausoleum. Each one, with past glories for the Motherland, the others who's name's he could remember, who fell from grace, were exorcised from all records of the state and their exploits made less than they ever were. A glowing tribute to failure came to mind. "Careers, lives, dashed on the orders of the Central Committee." a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him.

He entered his office, the large windows of the Dernszinski building, headquarters of the powerful KGB, looking out upon the Peoples Park, showed the fresh leaves of the trees shading the population below. "These people, these wretches, unable to understand that we are making their lives livable for them by our actions, can not and do not understand how we operate to save them." The walk to the desk area was minor in the cavernous room.

Gold gilded ceilings, tapestries hung from the walls, the prizes of the past, so despised by the doctrine put forth, were to be held by those who taught such things. A glass of strong Caspian tea waited for him. The sugar bowl nearby, held a small token of his first visit to the United States with a present from his counter-part in the west. The conversations with his western equal always came back to the statement from him. "We added to your file your love of tea with a lot of sugar!", so I want you to have this, and he was presented with a small gift wrapped box with a ribbon. A small silver teaspoon from Tiffany’s in New York. How kind! Was there nothing that these devils did not know? he thought at the time.

Each day as he emptied his morning's ration of sugar with the token gift, the thoughts that his service was becoming a growing failure to the West's expanding influence on his satellite states. The constant threats of each occupied state yearning for assistance from the United States! The growing unrest in the Motherland with the farmers in Leningrad dumping milk onto the streets, tractor factory workers slowing down production to hinder the already forecasted, meager fall harvest, and the coal miners in Siberia threatening to walk out to tax the already poor electrical systems and so on.

Haaaaa!, Another reason to imprison a few hundred more and charge them with houlogism he thought. It may add to the growing unrest, yet again, it could offer a dampening of the masses and their lust for so-called freedom. Yet the problems of the day would soon be lifted for a brief, but refreshing hour.

An appointment would soon be arriving to his office. The one success of his early career would soon be gracing his office with a smile and a walk. Sasha, he thought! My sweet Shasha! The way that she would walk, her voice, being song, and attitude, strong, athletic, and womanly. The thought of her body was of firm and succulent enveloping warmth.

Breasts, round, full and pert, straining always at her blouses of pure far eastern silk. Those nipples, the way that they peeked out from behind the curtain of fabric, keeping them from view from all except those of her needs, or the targets, who's final view in this world, they would be. The thoughts of her gracing his arm at some of the most secure "state" dinners was always present. Even then, the closeness of such an enchanted evening and the passionate thoughts coursing through his mind would only remain just that. But then the supposed impossible could be possible. She may just offer herself to him one day, he thought! Maybe out of gratitude, or maybe out of pity, but either way, it would be a moment to fill his life and his memories, forever.

Buzzzzz...Buzzzzz...,"Click"! The Secretary's head cleared of the thought, A strong male voice spoke, "Mr. Secretary, your first morning appointment has arrived." "Please show them in." "Yes Sir!"

Two large ornate craved wooden doors opened to his office, a captain in a crisp dress blouse escorted the Col. into and waited for direction from the Secretary. " Good Morning Col., would you please come in and make your self comfortable. Would you like some coffee or tea, I have had some excellent Earl Gray tea brought in a diplomatic pouch for my special guest's." "That would be fine, sir." I have not had a decent cup of tea in a while. While I have always enjoyed our tea's from the Caspian Sea area, I would welcome a new brew!" As you wish! Captain, would you please return with service for two and be quick about it, the time to await this joy is grating and we wish to get to our talks.

Yes Sir! With a swift turn on his heels, the Captain moved with speed. The doors to the room closed and with a click of the lock, silence came to the two men.

Igor Vladimir, good to see you! You are well? Yes Sir! No need for that formality now, we are alone and you have always been one of this directorates finest officers even though you have been on detached service for so long. You may be turning into one of those Army statues that never prosper with their careers. I want to know how things are going with our projects?

Are security measures being observed? Or are we going to make an example of some poor officer who didn't know that his career was in jeopardy due to underlings sleeping in the outer reaches of the base. "Knock, Knock." the doors opened and a cart with an old English tea service was rolled in. Ahhhh, a break from the everyday tastes! Captain, will you please pour!

The tea service was a vast change from the large kettles found in the mess halls of the bases. None of the niceties that came with the power in his presence."Would you care for a sweet, Col.?" Cookies from a fine bakery surrounded the platter, an artist palate of colors in pastry entered into view. "I understand the butter

pastries are from a bakery that specializes in Danish baking. Please try one! "Thank You!, I will not be able to fit my uniforms if I eat like this." A small price for good food, eh Igor? Of course, I can always get the tailor to let out the coat, oh well!

Captain! Yes Sir! After you have finished serving, we wish to be left alone for an hour, is that understood! Of Course, Sir! As you wish! Good, now be off with you and hold all interruptions! As we were saying, the security at the project is a little lax, but nothing to worry about. We do have our problems as all bases do, but we manage very well. Just last week, we had a farmer come by the main gate, the guards allowed him to pass so that they could buy some fresh vegetables, a security violation, to say the least, but it was overlooked this time after a stern talking to. I do understand the gate keepers want for some fresh beets and carrots. The needs of army life do not cover all, do they? You know that from first hand experience in the Great War, the Col. reminded the Secretary. "We hope that you are not going to hold them to accountable for their indiscretions, are you? No I do not think so! I was once a junior officer! True, True! How we never forget our first days of service! Anyway, let us get to our business! The development of the "SnowFlake" is on time?" Yes Mr. Secretary, we have maintained our table to continue with the plan. While we have been having some problems with the civilian scientist and their lack of travel and communications. They are complaining that they can not have access to their counter-parts in the rest of the scientific community.

 I have always wanted them to be able to discuss the advances that are being made, but due to the damn compartments that we have placed them into, we have no idea what new advances are being made except from the inept Information Directorate. And those bastards have not been able to gather the latest information for my charges since the translations take so long and then they have to go for coping, and since the photo copying is almost considered to be a secret operation, and with all the controls, we have not been able to proceed at the speed that I would like to see. "Well Col., I will make sure that the translators are dispatched to your operations and the copying machines will be made available by the end of the week. Will this be satisfactory to you? Yes sir, as always, you have been able to make a bad situation much better. I hope that our endeavors are to your liking. Now, go back to your post and I will see to any other of your needs. Please call me if you have any other requirements for your job and I will see that they are forwarded to you at once. Thank You, Comrade Secretary! I will!

As the meeting came to the close, the two men slowly walked as if the one would be heading for an execution and the other for comfort. As it was, this was the case with the Col.. His service to the Motherland was always important, but would not be considered to indispensable. The Secretary stood at the great doors and paused. "Igor"? Do you think that we shall continue our friendship? Of Course, my friend, a lifetime of friends could never be as I have had with you. Good my friend! I will always stand with you. Please do not be a stranger and good travels, my friend! The doors to the great room opened, the captain in the outer room came to attention and waited for instructions. Captain, the Col.'s coat! Yes Sir! Sharply, he strode to the closet and went to his duties of valet. "Igor" I wish you well! Thank you Mr. Secretary!

As quickly as the meeting ended, the thought's that Shasha would be soon arriving to his office. Ahh, Shasha, my beautiful thorny rose. The Secretary turned towards his desk and looked out of the large cathedral windows. The beauty of the day's were always kept from him as if in an aquarium looking out as a captive fish. Never having the chance to breath the warm fragrant air of day, he wished for his youth of the past. The responsibilities of his position would not allow such fallow indulgences. No longer would he be able to seek the solace of the past, as the present would be taxing to his career.

It would be crowning glory to his career, or the lid of his coffin as the Central Committee slammed it shut on him and his family. Time and the control of it, would only be the solace that he could muster for this project so important to all of the careers.

Sitting down, he look for the file for "Charon". So perfect in operations and yet so unknown to those who came under the influence until their deaths, as they would come to life. Opening he saw her picture. A fine looking woman, as if she came from the decadent pages of Sports Illustrated and Vogue. Always dressing in the finest fashions of the time and able to bring silence to any room with men present, Shasha Donnainski Noel would always command attention. Her body, firm, sports minded and pure sex, was as always a dream that could convert many a mans mind from his task's to distraction. Always the perfect lady. Known for her superior seductive skills and intelligence, she would go from Western capitals to the seats of power and search out her targets for the information that she sought. Never being so overt in her ways, she would be attentive and interested, so as to lower the guards and get as she wanted. Always reporting to her superiors with the requests, she would leave her contacts with death as the last reception of her charms.

 Bzzzzz..... Bzzzzzz ..... Comrade Secretary, Ms. Noel has arrived. Ahh.. Sasha, the Secretary's mind swam with desire. "Please show her in and leave us!" "Yes sir!"

The large doors opened again and Sasha walked in. A slight flair to her walk brought thoughts to the Secretary head. Quickly cleared his mind. Please come in and be comfortable. Thank You! Her voice reminded the Secretary of music. Her voice was a mix of Soviet Georgian / American accents with the touch of a gentle whisper.

Her milky white skin glowed with a vitality unseen in the past. Long legs that went to a mane of flowing blonde hair. Heels from Louis Jordan, clothes from the finest stores in New York city, and the perfumes from Paris, all stated subtle elegance within this deadly package. "Well, the assignments have been getting a bit scarce these days, Comrade Secretary! Yes my dear, I know! But Shasha, we have something that will keep you close to home this time.

Your new assignment is Col. Igor Vladimir Bresnov. He is assigned to the Strategic Rocket Forces and with the Cosmic Intelligence Directorate. He is with a special project that is of great importance to the country. He works very hard and needs a bit of female company to keep him focused on his tasks. That's you job, keep our boy focused and in check! We want his performance for the project, but not to let him burn out before it is over. Can you handle such things for us. "As always, I stand in service for the Motherland"

The Gum Store

The lines for goods as was the custom for the masses, were unknown to those of the privileged classes. Microwave Ovens, washing machines, meats and cheeses from the west have always been available to those with the hard currencies. It was after all only paper. But a piece of paper that reeked of fiscal strength and buying power. Shasha walked into the store, and as always garnered subtle attention to herself. A beautiful woman who exuded power and poise, the clothes, the hair, all the marking of a very rich woman in Moscow, indeed. As Shasha strode into the aisles, she caught sight of her prey. The Col. was standing at the end of meat counter. His eye's locked her beauty. She was ready to play with her captive. Strolling over to the counter, she walked closer as her perfume went before her as if to hypnotize her prey. The spice of the meats left with each step closer.

Her flowing dark tresses bathed her face in a midnight glow. Only the space between them kept Col. Bresnov from becoming intoxicated with her completely. Good Day, Comrade Col.! Good Day, Miss! He snapped into a military fervor to retain his composure. May I help you? Why yes, I am having a small party tonight, and would like to serve a simple but elegant selection of meat's and cheeses from the west. Would you mind sampling some of these and give me your opinion as to what might be best to serve? Of course, I would always come to the assistance of a lady in need.

Shasha turned to the man behind the counter, we would like to sample the American Corned Beef, Please slice some of the American Beefsteak, the British Quail, some of the Long Island Duckling and a selection of the better cheeses that you have here in your case. By all mean's! The butcher knew that he would be able to sell enough to make his monthly income just from the chance encounter. Each delicacy was cordially presented on a slip of waxed paper for tasting. Col.? would you please be my guest? First try the American Sliced beefsteak, it should be the most flavorful of the group. The meat was gently passed from her hand to his, the softness and warmth of her skin was quite evident. The cold of the meat was a vast difference from the sensations that he was experiencing. Her eyes asked as his mouth closed around the reddened meat. Is it something that you would favor? My! the Col. was not used to such expensive tastes. This meat is most tender! I do approve with your tastes. Please may I continue with the generous feeding you have begun? Of Course, Col.! Why not just let us forgo this little ritual of the afternoon and please be my guest tonight.

The shortages of meats and vegetables were unknown to her and her kind. Always be kept woman! she thought to herself, no matter what the cost in life!

 Military Electric Corporation, Space Systems Division

July, 14th, 1976

Valley Forge, PA

On the 'Hill" as it was called the vast complex took on an impressive view of the surrounding area. The large white buildings, the array of strange looking antennas, and the constant strange hum that was always coming from a large rectangular building, had always fascinated the locals. Not knowing what was going on in this strange facility, the locals knew that the site was for strange government work always going on. The talk went from strange flying crafts that would float in the air to nuclear warheads that would wipe the face of the planet clean of the masses of humanity. All in all, it was a major taxpayer in the area as well as the main employer of the suburban middle classes of educated engineers and physicist.

AS always, the facility was always busy with the Cold War and the implements of destruction. Constantly developing new weapons for the Pentagon, to fight the Red Threat, the engineers fought the Cold War in the background. Their formulas became the instruments of death to be projected upon the Communist assault on the world. The MAD proposal was one that had

worked for the last 40 years. Today, was to be different. With the opening of the meeting of the military and civilian scientist, the development of a new way to communicate the final orders of destruction of the human race was about to begin.

Greetings Gentlemen, Professor Farnworth bellowed with full voice. We are gathered today to discuss a new proposal for nuclear conflict communications. AS we have all been aware for the last few years, we have had to rely upon the land based communications that we have all taken for granted. But as we have found out in the past ten years or so, that when we were to detonate these devices in the Pacific, the alarm systems and phone systems as well as the electrical system took major hits and made a lot of people angry. Well we have had to do something about all of this and since there was no other way to stop the problem, you know that we have taken the above ground test ban treaty to heart. So now we go underground. You don't get to see the bang or glow, but you sure as hell feel it.

 All in the room had experienced the tremors that were associated with the tests. And a small laugh rose from the room as the group reminded themselves of the feeling.

All right, All right! Dr. Farnsworth called the room to order. OK, we all know about the problems of communications in an ionized atmosphere. Problems associated with wave propagation and transmission have always been a concern of the military. Can they get their orders through the soup of the nuclear clouds and what of the ionosphere and wave bounce problems when the sky is filled with vast clouds of radioactivity. Our concern today is to develop a method of quick, secure communications that can penetrate the soup and get the message through. So I will allow for the beginning of free association and allow for the team to start with the development of the ideas. First I would like to say that we will welcome any and all ideas, as the idea of getting through all of that crap is something that we can not test for in real time, and in the real situation. So let's get it together and we will begin with the conference.

Small groups of bohemian scientist gathered into little nests of thought. The groups buzzing with the voices of intellect permeated the room. Bits of jargon only known is these circles was flying and those without the services of a UN translator would be lost in the lingual quagmire. A thought was about to be born, and with it, the voice that would sound the final tantrum outburst of mankind.