Korolev cowered as though the cassette were a weapon. "No, no Japanese." The meekness of his own voice startled him. "Only English and Polish." He felt himself blush. The Plumber was his friend; he knew and trusted the Plumber, but-

"Are you well, Colonel?" The Plumber loaded the tape and punched up a lexicon program with deft, calloused fingers. "You look as though you just ate a bug. I want you to hear this."

Korolev watched uneasily as the tape flickered into an ad for baseball gloves. The lexicon's Cyrillic subtitles raced across the monitor as a Japanese voice-over rattled maniacally.

"The newscast's coming up," said the Plumber, gnawing at a cuticle.

Korolev squinted anxiously as the translation slid across the face of the Japanese announcer:

AMERICAN DISARMAMENT GROUP CLAIMS ... PREPARATIONS AT BAIKONUR COSMODROME ... PROVE RUSSIANS AT LAST READY ... TO SCRAP ARMED SPACE STATION COMIC CITY ...

"Cosmic," the Plumber muttered. "Glitch in the lexicon."

BUILT AT TURN OF CENTURY AS BRIDGEHEAD TO SPACE ... AMBITIOUS PROJECT CRIPPLED BY FAILURE OF LUNAR MINING ... EXPENSIVE STATION OUTPERFORMED BY OUR UNMANNED ORBITAL FACTORIES ... CRYSTALS SEMICONDUCTORS AND PURE DRUGS ...

"Smug bastards." The Plumber snorted. "I tell you, it's that goddamned KGB man Yefremov. He's had a hand in this!"

STAGGERING SOVIET TRADE DEFICITS ... POPULAR DISCONTENT WITH SPACE EFFORT ... RECENT DECISIONS BY

POLITBURO AND CENTRAL COMMITTEE SECRETARIAT ...

"They're shutting us down!" The Plumber's face contorted with rage.

Korolev twisted away from the screen, shaking uncontrollably. Sudden tears peeled from his lashes in free-fall droplets. "Leave me alone! I can do nothing!"