Altitude seventy-three thousand feet. Airspeed nine thousand knots.”
"Petra, raise helmet." He was slowly regaining his sight as the G-loads began to recede. The cockpit was an oven, overwhelming its environmental control equipment, clear evidence vehicle skin temperature had exceeded design.
“Confirmed. Helmet raising.”
Although his vision was still black and white, he started easing back on the throttles and checking around the cock
pit. Eva was beginning to stir now, rising and struggling with her safety straps, Androv remained slumped in his G-seat.
"You okay?" He rose and moved toward her. "I think I blacked out there for a second or so."
"I'm going to make it." She shifted her eyes right. "But I'm not so sure about . . ."
"Don't worry." The Russian snapped conscious and immediately reached to begin loosening his straps. "I've been through heavy G-loads before." Suddenly he stared up at the screens, pointed, and yelled. "Hypersonic! Zoloto! You didn't tell me. I almost can't believe—"
"We almost lost it. Skin temperatures reached—"