Dimitri Viliorin walked past the hard gray fuel tanks on the hard tar toward the line of hard stone-faced engineers crowded around the hard airplane (I have yet to hear of an aeroplane that is soft). Everything was gray or black, even the sky was a uniform dark gray. It was a perfect day. He smiled to himself, thinking about his test flight he would perform for the grace of the party.
“Ah,” he thought to himself, “today I will gain another victory for the Soviet Union! I will feel excellent!”
“Comrade Viliorin, come!” called one of the engineers executing final checks.
“What is it Mikhail, more changes?”
“Indeed. We have modified the shape of your antennas; you will communicate 5 times better.”
“Why must you change everything? I must retrain every time you get your hands on it,” he said jokingly. “Besides, was the change really necessary?”
“Of course! Your flight must be perfect, the Premier will be there!”
The Premier, Alexei Kosygin, and various other high ranking members of the government would be there to watch the spectacular new space plane, the Solntsa 1, launch. It was the super plane of all planes, capable of shooting down the best, highest flying, fastest spy plane, and could easily deliver a nuclear bomb to the doorstep of all but the most distant countries. Today was the last day before the first flight, November 15, 1968. Test after test would be performed, but the real test would be tomorrow, when the plane flew for the first time. It was crucial this flight went perfectly, or as close to it as possible. Reports had come in from spies about new spy planes that fly flew too high, and too fast to shoot down. The Solntsa 1 would change all that. With its highly efficient and powerful rocket engine, its stealth design, and its far from inept arsenal of missiles, it would be unbeatable. That is, if it flew at all.
“I know the Premier will be there, but will ‘5 times better’ really be that good?”
Mikhail Rudenko and Dimitri Viliorin had known each other since childhood, and had even stayed in contact when Viliorin “decided” to become a pilot and had been chosen for the cosmonaut program. Mikhail was there when he was expelled due to his failure to prevent an accident that wasn't his fault and helped him regain a position in flight. Now Dimitri was considered to be the perfect pilot for the new space plane due to his short cosmonaut training and in no small part to Mikhail.
Just as Mikhail was about to reply “Yes, of course,” one of the less liked engineers, Maks Svododa, came up behind them. They had also known Maks since childhood, but no one really liked or knew him very well because he had moved in from Czheckoslavakia. His parents were very poor, and he was bitter against the marginally more wealthy ones.
“No, no it won’t,” claimed Maks.
“What do you mean, comrade Maks,” Asked Mikhail.
“Well, I think we all know that your engine design will get this former cosmonaut killed instantly.”
“My engine design!? If anything, your faulty computer will blow up the plane” said Mikhail, careful to try and not mention Dimitri's end directly.
As they argued about the best way to solder circuits and the best material for combustion chambers, Dimitri smiled and walked back to his room on the east side of the airfield. He had really only come to the airstrip out of boredom, as he was tired of pouring over technical manuals. He was supposed to be reviewing flight procedure and coming up with a speech to give to the members of the Communist Party present. He wasn’t nervous about the flight per say, even though he knew he could die. He had no family, and his only commitment was to the State. He was nervous about what would happen if he was killed. Entire people had been completely removed from history to hide the shame of their failure. Their names were removed from documents and they were airbrushed out of pictures. He wanted to be remembered if something happened to him. He sighed.
“Oh well,” he thought.
He sat back down to read his manuals again, and began a bit of a speech for the Premier and the other party members. Finally, long after the sun had gone down, he retired to his bed, hoping for the best.
The next day dawned bright and clear, a stark contrast from the past week. The shiny Solntsa 1 almost gleamed on the airstrip, the only difference in color being the clear canopy and the bright red star on the tail. Dimitri had been supplied months before with a neon orange pressure suit and a white helmet with the letters “СССР” written in red on the top. Near the airstrip a platform had been set up overnight for the party members and the Premier to sit and watch. About an hour after Dimitri was woken, the entire group arrived. It consisted of generals, party members, scientists, photographers, and engineers, including Mikhail. At ten in the morning, Dimitri arrived from his quarters to give his speech to the people present.
“Today, I am going to do somthing for the glory of the party: I am going to fly the Solntsa 1 space plane. I do this in the name of Communism, in the name of Lenin and the Communist party! When I am done with this flight, I will be ready to perform any task for the party!”
Although his speech was short, it was to the point, and many there pretended it touched their hearts. State photographers snapped pictures while the engineers reviewed the airplane. Finally, after three hours of preparation, pressurization and depressurization, and last minute physicals, the flight was ready. Dimitri strolled up to the plane in his pressure suit, and climbed the ladder. A small group of engineers around the plane, including Mikhail, wished him luck and ran to shelter. Strangely, Maks wasn't present. Dimitri performed the final checks, radioed in and started the engines. The plane moved down the airstrip faster and faster, and lifted off. The crowd cheered loudly, almost deafeningly. The plane lifted higher and higher off the ground. He began to throttle up to twenty percent.
The flash nearly blinded them.
Later, they determined it was a spurious communication signal sent from the computer to the engine, causing it to pour fuel into the combustion chamber. They determined that if the metal alloy making up the chamber had had 1 percent more copper, it would have shut down as intended. Everyone present was later confronted by men dressed in dark colors, demanding any record of the flight to be handed over. All of the head engineers, including Mikhail and Maks, were never heard from again. All blueprints and surviving parts were burned and destroyed. However, most importantly, the name Viliorin was never seen in any documents, and his face in any pictures. Dimitri Viliorin never existed, Because if he had, the greedy would try to use him to negate the ultimate truth of communism, and take the power for themselves. Because if he had, that would be taken advantage of to hurt the party.
