Star City, USSR, 1965
Sergei Kirov sat in the dim light of his lab, the simulation results still flashing on the screen—a digital funeral for the N1 cosmonauts. The American data cartridge was a masterpiece of intelligence work: expertly crafted to seem like a genuine windfall, but containing a flaw so subtle it would only reveal itself under the immense strain of an actual launch.
He knew what he had to do. He closed the program and erased the simulation data. He placed the American data cartridge into its battered casing and walked toward Colonel Volkov's office.
Volkov was reviewing reports, a small cup of weak tea by his side. "Any news, Doctor? Did the Americans give us the moon?"
"They gave us a design," Sergei said flatly, placing the cartridge on the desk. "A very clever one, actually. I ran initial simulations. It is a genuine dampening system. Very advanced."
Volkov’s eyes lit up. "Excellent! We must incorporate it immediately into our final design reviews."
"That is my recommendation," Sergei said, forcing the words through a throat suddenly tight with betrayal. He had just lied to the Colonel, knowing the consequences. "We should begin manufacturing prototypes for testing."
Volkov smiled broadly. "Good man, Sergei. Your patriotism is noted. Proceed at once. We must move quickly before the American launch."
Sergei saluted and left the office. He walked down the long hallway. He had just consigned the first N1 crew to their deaths. He chose the lesser of two evils, a scientific sacrifice for the long game.
Houston, Texas, USA, 1965
Jim Donovan was ready to board the transfer van to the launch pad. The air in the ready room was thick with anticipation.
"Lucky, suit pressure check reads green," a technician said.
Jim nodded. He couldn't shake the feeling about the "data storage test."
He zipped his suit pocket, where he had tucked a note with the item code and a contact for a friend in Air Force Intelligence. He intended to mail it once he landed, just in case.
"Five minutes to the transfer van, Major," the technician announced.
Jim pushed the doubts aside. He focused on the mission.
The launch sequence was flawless. They were in orbit.
"Good job, Gemini VIII," CAPCOM said over the comms. "You are go for orbital operations."
Jim was precisely where the CIA needed him to be. The Agena target vehicle was orbiting just ahead of him.
"Approaching Agena target vehicle," Jim reported, eyes focused on the screen. "Ready for the rendezvous and docking procedure."
The maneuver was textbook. Jim guided the Gemini capsule into the Agena’s docking collar. A firm click and the green light confirmed the 'hard mate'.
"Docked," Jim said. The "data package" was now transferred into Soviet hands.
The rivalry had reached orbit, and the game had begun.
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