“Yes, Comrade Director.” The pointing officer sent another command, firing Almaz’s thrusters yet again. He checked the updated values. “We’re at max design pitch rate for the solar panels now.”
All eyes turned to the front screen. Rising up from the bottom of the video image was the conical white tip of the Apollo capsule.
Chelomei pointed to the screen. “Arm the R-23!”
The mechanisms officer, sitting one row ahead, responded. “Sending the command now.”
As Almaz turned, the spacewalkers came into view—three fat figures in a clumsy slow-motion dance, intent on mutual destruction. The cosmonauts held tight to Pursuit’s handrails with one hand, swinging their makeshift weapons with their free arms, as the astronaut, one foot still braced, brandished his bolt cutters.
Bile rose in Chelomei’s throat. His ship, his Almaz—so capable, so much of a threat that the Americans had decided to attack it in front of his eyes! He’d known this might happen. And he’d prepared for it.
He grabbed the headset off the desk and shouted into it. “Mitkov, both of you get back to Almaz. You need to be clear of the American ship, and fast!”
The grunting of the two cosmonauts in combat transmitted steadily, blocking the incoming call from Earth.
Chelomei tried again. “Mitkov, do you hear me? Return to Almaz!”
No response. The tech repeated the Director’s words multiple times, urgently trying to get through.
Finally, Mitkov replied. “Moscow, I hear you! We’re returning!”
Chelomei pivoted towards the flight director. “How much time do we have?”
“About thirty seconds, Comrade Director, forty-five maximum until we’re out of antenna range.”
They watched the screen, the Apollo ship remaining centered as the console operator reversed the thrusters on Almaz to hold steady. An astronaut was sticking out of the American hatch, guiding the umbilical of the spacewalker, who had got both feet free and was now floating up towards Almaz. One of the cosmonauts was traversing the gap between the vessels, the other still holding on to the American ship, ready to push off.
Chelomei spoke, his command loud enough for everyone to hear it without their headsets.
“At fifteen seconds, send the signal. All rounds! Fire the R-23!”
Vladimir Chelomei had not sent a defenseless ship into space.
The Kartech R-23 cannon was a unique design.
It had originally been built as the tail gun for the supersonic Tu-22 bomber, with a single short barrel to avoid the aircraft’s turbulent airflow. As its bullets fired, the expanding gas from the explosion not only pushed the projectile out of the barrel, but also rotated a four-chamber revolver mechanism that loaded the next round. At full speed, the cannon spun at 2,600 rpm, a blistering 43 rotations every second.
It was the Soviet Union’s fastest-firing single-barrel cannon, small, light and purpose-built. To keep its overall length short, the chambers loaded oddly, from the front, the pointy bullets encased in cylindrical galvanized metal sleeves, like deadly silver lipsticks.
For the cannon to fit onto Almaz, though, the engineers had to make it even smaller and lighter, choosing lower-caliber 14.5 mm bullets that allowed for a slimmer barrel and revolver. The entire space gun, loaded with 32 rounds, weighed just 70 pounds. Then, to further minimize mass and complexity, they’d removed the gun’s aiming mount, simply bolting the R-23 to Almaz’s hull. In order to line it up with the target, they had to turn the entire 20-ton space station.
The new design’s rate of fire was 1,800 rpm; that meant all 32 bullets could be expended within one second. A brief hail of hardened steel through the emptiness of space, each spinning projectile traveling at over 2,000 feet per second.
All it needed was someone to pull the trigger.
With 15 seconds left in the comm pass, the Moscow technician pushed the button on his console to initiate the fire command. The signal traveled up via relay satellite and then down to the relay ship in the North Atlantic, which sent it directly back up to the receiving antenna on Almaz. The spaceship’s decommutator routed the signal through Almaz’s onboard wiring and amplified it into an electrical fire signal that the R-23 could recognize. It also sent a command to the ship’s thrusters to ignite the maneuvering engines to counteract the impending recoil of the gun.
When the electrical signal reached its destination, the space cannon flashed into operational life.
The firing pin slammed into the percussion primer at the base of the loaded round, causing an instant explosion, which ignited the main nitrocellulose charge. The ensuing blast hurled the bullet down the rifled barrel and spun the revolver to accept the next round. Each successive round’s explosion sped up the rotation until the cannon was turning at full speed.