Dominating one wall of the control room was an enormous display screen showing a map of the world. Superimposed on the map, a line traced the orbit of the Mir space station, with rings along it representing ground stations. Mir's position was marked by a blue-green light, which was moving slowly across the circle centered on Moscow. The flyby would take only eight minutes, after which the window of communication would close. The audio feed came through with startling clarity, as if Cosmonaut Yuri Romanenko were standing in the next room. "The work here is very interesting," he said in response to a question that had been posed in writing by TIME Correspondent Dick Thompson. "It brings us a lot of satisfaction."
How does Mir compare with earlier Soviet space stations? "There is much more space," said Romanenko. "There is even room that can be used for living room. Atmospheric conditions are better, and all the instruments provide for good fresh air. It's much better than Salyut." Before another question could be asked, the light left the Moscow circle; the window had closed. Though all too brief, it was an extraordinary, exclusive exchange between an American journalist and an orbiting Soviet cosmonaut.
Just a few years ago that encounter in the Soviet Flight Control Center at Kaliningrad, a suburb 15 miles northeast of Moscow, would have been unthinkable. In the closed world of the Soviet space program, the most impressive launches were rarely announced in advance for fear of failure. Even then, the barest details were released afterward -- and only if the mission went just as planned. These days that characteristic secrecy seems to have evaporated, replaced with a confidence bolstered by the dawning international recognition that Soviet achievements in space are fast outstripping those of the U.S.
The new dynamism is drawn from a spirit of glasnost, or openness, that preceded the revolution Soviet Leader Mikhail Gorbachev is striving to bring to Soviet society. Moscow's venerable Institute of Space Research (known as IKI, its Russian acronym) now bustles with the comings and goings of an increasingly youthful, independent-minded cadre of Soviet space specialists. And along with them are growing numbers of foreign colleagues, many of whom have been invited to add their experiments to Soviet space missions. Visiting scientists need only a pass to wander the halls freely.
Such self-assurance on the part of the Soviet space establishment will be in ample evidence this week as IKI and its charismatic director, Roald Sagdeyev, sponsor a three-day extravaganza of seminars and speeches celebrating the 30th anniversary of the launch of Sputnik 1 in 1957. Called Space Future Forum, it will focus on the topic of international cooperation in space. Some 500 scientific luminaries from around the world plan to attend.