He was the director of a Russian Space Agency that was propped up by American loans and subsidies. The Baikonur facility that had been the launch site for every manned space mission Russia had conducted, and the town of Leninsk that had been established as an outpost for its defense and supply, had since 1994 been leased from the sovereign state of Kazakhstan--once part of the Soviet Union--for over a hundred million dollars a year, much of it apportioned from the American hand-outs. And now the Voenno Kosmicheskie Sily, or Military Space Force, that was garrisoned in the town had been subordinated to a private American security contingent under the rubric of "mutual support" at the direct order of President Vladimir Starinov himself, who many believed had become not merely indebted, but indentured, to Roger Gordian after UpLink's people saved him from assassination the year before--and whose regime had been taking continuous political fire for blatantly kowtowing to American and NATO interests.

Petrov's scowl deepened. Why bother raising the Russian flag over the installation, emblazoning Russian decals on the spacecraft that launched from it, or stitching Russian patches onto the spacesuits of the cosmonauts that rode into space aboard those craft? Why not confirm what was already all too evident to him and stamp the stars and stripes, or better yet the U.S. dollar sign, onto the brow of every person who worked for an agency that had once been at the forefront of space exploration, sending the first satellite into orbit around the earth, the first unmanned probes to the surface of the moon and Venus, the first human being into space?

Now Petrov watched the Lockheed taxi easily to a stop in an unloading area across the airfield, where ground crews and wheeled freight conveyors were already rolling toward its freight door. He was aware of the almost subliminal drone of more aircraft winging in above the steppes, while above him another transport bearing UpLink insignia entered its landing pattern. The palletized loads of weapons, armored patrol vehicles, and other heavy lift had been arriving along with large complements of operating and service personnel for over forty-eight hours, and would continue to arrive right up until the launch later that week.

Petrov found himself wondering how the American populace would react if their government invited a Russian paramilitary force with tremendous surveillance and fighting capabilities into the heart of their nation, imposed fewer practical restraints upon their use of weapons than the average citizen was asked to accept, then allowed them to usurp control of a military policing operation from indigenous army units. Would that not be seen as compromising America's internal security? As a threat to the very underpinning of its national sovereignty? Would it be tolerated?

He dropped his eyes and stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets. There could be no greater proof of America's global hegemony than those planes in the busy sky.

How could he describe how he felt?