The Lagrangists. Mack Reynolds

against Soviet science, given fifteen minutes in this building.

      The colonel, though now dressed in mufti, was obviously militarily trained. He was young for his rank and handsome in the Slavic tradition, though there was a touch of slant in his eyes that betrayed his mother’s Cossack ancestry. The eyes were also wolfish, cold and, perhaps, somewhat cruel. It was not for nothing that in international espionage circles he was reputed to have killed more men—and women—than the plague. In his lapel was the tiny red emblem that revealed that the colonel carried the Soviet Hero’s Combat Award, the only one of his various decorations that he ever bothered to wear, in a nation more than normally prone to wear medals and decorations. He could well be scornful of all others. The Hero’s Award was earned only in combat and in two cases out of three, posthumously. The only equivalents had been the Victoria Cross of Great Britain and the Knight’s Cross with Oak Leaf Cluster, Hitlerian Germany’s highest award for bravery in the field. The American Medal of Honor is a distant second and could even be awarded to some general far behind the lines of battle.

      Ilya Simonov had no idea what this assignment would turn out to be and he suspected that his superior, who had sent him here to the Academy of Sciences center, didn’t either. Next to the Presidium of the CPSU and the Council of Ministers, the Academy was the most prestigious body in the Soviet Complex, not answerable even to Simonov’s police organization.

      He entered the building and, for a moment, the interior set him back. The marble halls still contained statuary, uncomfortable Victorian period furniture, paintings and other relics of the days when the palace had been the private home of some long forgotten aristocrat. It would seem that no one had even gotten around to removing them.

      There were several reception desks in the entrada, none of them automated, somewhat to his surprise. He marched up to the nearest and rapped out, “Colonel Simonov. On appointment to see Comrade Anatole Mendeleev.”

      “Academician Mendeleev,” the girl reproved him gently.

      The colonel studied her and made a mental note. It would seem, in the Academy, that scientific rank and title were considered more important than Party position. He wondered at the desirability of that and decided to mention it to Kliment Blagonravov.

      The girl had evidently pressed some button since a guide materialized at Simonov’s elbow.

      The guide led the way.

      Mendeleev was cordial enough, considering his lofty position as one of the few scientists to achieve this elevated rank. He was somewhat vague, a slow speaking man, somewhere in his mid-sixties and beginning to show his years; his remaining hair was completely white and he had a flabby double chin.

      He shook hands, dismissed the guide, gestured in the direction of a chair, took his own place behind his desk and stared at the colonel.

      The academician said finally, “Colonel Simonov, in my time I have had little contact with the Chrezvychainaya Komissiya.”

      There was no answer to that. In his time the colonel had little contact with scientists. Ilya Simonov crossed his legs and held his peace.

      The academician said, “It is with deep regret that I come into contact with it now.”

      There was no answer to that, either.

      Mendeleev sighed deeply and evidently came to the point. “Comrade Colonel,” he said. “What do you know about Lagrange Four?”

      Ilya Simonov frowned. He said hesitantly, “Why, I suppose what the ordinary layman knows. It’s part of the Yankee space program. They’re mounting a very extensive operation to build a very large space station about half way between the Earth and moon. It’s out of my field, of course, but even moderately following the news, one is continually hearing of it, especially since I’m based in Greater Washington.”

      The academician sighed again and said, “Space station isn’t exactly the term. It is not to be compared with our Salyut space station project. When their Island One, as they call it, is completed, it is expected to contain some 10,000 inhabitants. And that is only their first. Island One will build Island Two, which will be larger, and Island Two will construct Island Three. Island Four is planned to be sixteen miles long and about four miles in diameter, and could house a few millions in a situation somewhat similar to, say, Bermuda. And that is just the beginning! From there they expect to go on to the asteroids where, it would seem, there would no longer be any need for the importation of any raw materials from Earth or the Moon. The asteroids contain them all, practically, including hydrocarbons.”

      The colonel was staring at him. He said, “I didn’t know the Lagrange Five Project was of that magnitude. Our American friends seem to have gone overboard in their dreaming this time.”

      The scientist gazed at the espionage ace and shook his head before saying, “But you see, you misunderstood me. When I asked you what you knew about Lagrange Four, you assumed that I was referring to the American project. However, my question was: what do you know about Lagrange Four?”

      “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

      “No. And most informed persons on the space race don’t either. Lagrange Five is the American project; Lagrange Four is the Soviet equivalent.”

      Simonov shook his head. “I’ve never even heard of it. But, as I say, it’s not my field and largely I have spent my time in the States of recent years.”

      The scientist nodded. “There has thus far been little released to the news media. Briefly, Colonel, in 1772 Astronomer Joseph L. Lagrange computed points in space equidistant from the Earth and moon—points of triangles 237,000 miles on a side—where a satellite or space station would remain in constant orbit above the Earth. Lagrange Four, east, and Lagrange Five, west, are the two stable positions. Each position is on the orbit of the moon and is the third point of an equilateral triangle, the Earth and moon occupying the other two points. Your space station, or almost anything else, could be located on stable orbits at either Lagrange Four or Lagrange Five.”

      “I’m afraid that I’m out of my depth,” Simonov admitted.

      The scientist made a sound of resignation. “In brief, Comrade Colonel, you could place a marble, or a city the size of Moscow, in that area and it would remain there for all time, falling to neither the moon nor to Earth.”

      Ilya Simonov looked at him blankly. He hadn’t the vaguest idea of what the other was building up to.

      Anatole Mendeleev could read him. As a matter of fact, he had gone through this scene, almost exactly, with Number One in the Kremlin very recently. As a scientist, he was dismayed by the lack of knowledge among these people who governed his country. But politics had never been his concern, since first he had been spotted as a teenager in the small town of Poltava in the Ukraine. Since then, he had twice taken a Nobel.

      Very well, he would go through the same routine he had with Number One.

      He said, “Comrade Colonel, let me recapitulate a bit. In the race into space we began with a fabulous start. During the International Geophysical Year, which was 1957-58, our people very quietly announced that we were planning to launch an artificial satellite. It was what the Americans call a very soft sell. But in Washington this was evidently picked up and the White House, in a small fit of competition, announced to a somewhat startled world on July 1955 that it was to launch an artificial satellite. They must have been out of their minds, since they hadn’t taken more than the first steps. Once again, very quietly we announced that the Soviet Union was also to launch an artificial satellite.”

      The scientist smiled and paused for a moment before adding, “And the world laughed its scorn.”

      On the face of it, none of this was new to Ilya Simonov, though he had not as yet been born when the developments the academician was recounting had taken place. Undoubtedly, the scientist had been on the scene and had perhaps even participated as a young man in the Soviet space program. However, the espionage agent let the other continue without interruption.

      “What happened is history,” Mendeleev said, nodding his head in satisfaction,