懸賞

though, he was holding his life-long ambition in his hand. At last he replied, hope mingled with apprehension.
"I think we have no choice." He had looked up at the president's troubled eyes. "You have no choice."
"Unfortunately, I think you are right." He had sighed and turned his gaze to the blackness outside the snow- banked window. "Ve tyomnuyu noch, ya znayu. Yes, An¬drei Petrovich. On this dark night, I finally know what we must do."
After one final vodka, they had set about devising the scenario that would change the world forever. . . .
The airflow around the model continued to accelerate, while laser holograms of its complex aerodynamics were now being converted by the computer into multi-colored graphic art. Androv watched the wall-size liquid crystal display screen in the control room begin generating a vivid depiction of the streams whirling past the model, simulating the incremental stages of hypersonic climb. It was like watching a hallucination, he thought, as colors swirled around the fuselage of an object seemingly com¬posed of 3-D lines and curves.
"We are now at Mach 6, Comrade Doktor Androv." The voice of a Soviet technician interrupted his thoughts. "The laser data show that the supersonic wave drag peaks at Mach 3.8, then subsides. Your new canard foreplanes ap¬pear to be working, at least for this portion of the flight envelope."
Androv studied the screen, noncommittal. "Thus far it would appear to be so. Perhaps

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