Hard to tell, but he'd got Daedalus off the runway, then done an Immelmann to take her to ten thousand meters, followed by a power dive back to the deck. He was frolicking like a drunken dolphin. Pure Androv. How much longer could he last?
Sokolov glanced at the screen in front of him. The computer was extrapolating, telling him that a due-east heading by Daedalus would soon take her over international waters. If Androv kept that vector, at least there'd be no messy questions about violating foreign airspace.
"How long before they can intercept?" Tanzan Mino asked, not taking his eyes from the screens. Now the Soviet interceptors were on the Katsura radar, speeding toward Daedalus' last known vector coordinates. It should only be a matter of time.
"In five minutes they will be within air-to-air range," Sokolov replied. He paused, then asked the question weighing on his mind. "If he refuses to turn back, do you really want that vehicle blown from the skies?"
Now Tanzan Mino was thinking about the Stealth capabilities of the Daedalus. Was the design good enough to defeat the MiG-31s' pulse-Doppler radar? He suddenly found himself wishing the plane hadn't been so well designed. The stupid Soviets, of course, had no idea—yet— that it could just disappear.
"He could be headed for Alaskan air space. That's what the computer is projecting. You understand the ramifications if this vehicle falls into the hands of the Americans."
The Soviet nodded gravely. That was, of course, unthinkable. There would be no going home again.
"Yuri!" Eva was up like a shot. "Lean back. Breathe." She was pushing the button that raised the huge flight helmet. As she watched, his open eyes gradually resumed their focus. Then he snapped his head and looked around.