by Jerry
Rast stiffened. “No, sir. But it is possible for troops to be so laggardly and unwilling that the effect is the same. What I mean is that there is the steady growth of a cynical attitude everywhere. Not only in the troops but in the officers.”
Bade looked off at the far corner of the room for a moment. He glanced at Runckel. “What’s the state of the key-tools factories?”
“Almost all completed. But the northern ones are now in the reduced-degree-of-heat zone. Part of the forceway network is, too. Using the key-tools plants remaining, it might be possible to patch together some kind of a makeshift. But the reduced-degree-of-heat zone is still moving south.”
A pale clerk apologized, stepped around the generals and handed Bade two messages. The first was from Intelligence:
“Enemy propaganda broadcasts beamed at our troops announce General Kottek’s unconditional surrender with all his forces. We have no independent information on Kottek’s actual situation.”
The second message was from the commander of Number 1 Shock Infantry Division. This report boiled down to a miserable confession that the commanding officer found himself unable to prevent:
1) Fraternization with the enemy.
2) The use of various liquid narcotics that rendered troops unfit for duty.
3) The unauthorized wearing of red, white, and blue buttons lettered, “Vote Republican.”
4) An ugly game called “footbase,” in which the troops separated into two long lines armed with bats, to hammer, pound, beat, and kick, a ball called “the officer,” from one end of the field to the other.
Bade looked up at Rast. “How is it I only find out about this now?”
“Sir,” said Rast, “each of the officers was ashamed to report it his superior.”
Bade handed the report to Runckel, who read it through and looked up somberly. “If it’s hit the shock troops, the rest must have it worse.”
“Yet,” said Bade, “the troops fought well when we recaptured Frotch.”
“Yes,” said Rast, “but it’s the damned planet that’s driving them crazy. The natives are remarkable propagandists. And the men can plainly see that even when they win a victory, some freak like the exploding sickness, or some kind of atmospheric jugglery, is likely to take it right away from them. They’re in a bad mood and the only thing that might snap them out of it is decisive action. But if they go the other way we’re finished.”
“This,” said Bade, “is no time for you to resign.”
“Sir, it’s a mess, and I’m responsible. I have to make the offer to resign.”
“Well,” said Bade, “I don’t accept it. But we’ll have to try to straighten out this mess.” Bade pulled over several sheets of paper. On the first, he wrote:
“Official News Bureau: 1) Categorically deny the capture of General Kottek and his base. State that General Kottek is in full control of Base North, that the enemy has succeeded in infiltrating troops into the general region under cover of snow, but that he has been repulsed with heavy losses in all attacks on the base itself.
“2) State that the enemy announcement of victory in the area is a desperation measure, timed to coincide with their almost unopposed advance through the evacuated Northern Front.
“3) The larger part of the troops in the Northern Front were withdrawn prior to the attack and switched by forceway network to launch a heavy feinting attack against the enemy. State that the enemy, caught by surprise, appears to be rushing reserves from his northern armies to cover the areas threatened by the feint.
“4) Devoted troops who held the Northern Front to make the deception succeed have now been overrun by the enemy advance under cover of the snow. Their heroic sacrifice will not be forgotten.
“5) The enemy now faces the snow time alone. His usual preventive measures have been drastically slowed down. His intended decisive attack has failed of its object. The snow this year is unusually severe, and is already working heavy punishment on the enemy.
“6) Secret measures are now for the first time being brought into the open that will place our troops far beyond the reach of snow.”
On the second sheet of paper, Bade wrote:
“Director of Protocol: Prepare immediately: 1) Supreme Commander’s Citation for Extraordinary Bravery and Resourcefulness in Action: To be awarded General Kottek. 2) Supreme Commander’s Citation for Extraordinary Devotion to Duty: To be awarded singly, to each soldier on duty during the enemy attack on the entire Northern Front. 3) These awards are both to be mentioned promptly in the Daily Notices.”
Bade handed the papers to Runckel, “Send these out yourself.” As Runckel started off, Bade looked at Rast, then was interrupted by a messenger who stepped past Rast, and handed Bade two slips of paper. With an effort of will, Bade extended his hand and took the papers. He read:
“Sir: Exploration Team South 3 has located ideal island base. Full details follow. Frotch.”
“Sir: We have finally contacted General Kottek. He and his troops are dug into underground warrens of great complexity beneath his system of fortifications. Most of the ships above-ground are mere shells, all removable equipment having been stripped out and carried below for the comfort of the troops. Most of the ships’ engines have also been disassembled one at a time, carried below, and set up to run the dampers—which are likewise below ground—and the ‘heating units’ devised by Kottek’s technical personnel. His troops appear to be in good order and high spirits. Skath, Col., A.F.C., forwarded by Frotch.”
Bade sucked in a deep breath and gave silent thanks. Then he handed the two reports to Rast. Bade snapped on a microphone and got in touch with Frotch. “Listen, can you get pictures of Kottek and his men?”
Frotch held up a handful of pictures, spread like playing cards. “The men took them for souvenirs and gave me copies. You can have all you want.”
Bade immediately called his photoprint division and gave orders for the pictures to be duplicated by the thousands. The photoprint division slaved all night, and the excited troops had the pictures on their bulletin boards by the next morning.
The Official News Service meanwhile was dinning Bade’s propaganda into the troops’ ears at every opportunity. The appearance of the pictures now plainly caught the enemy propaganda out on a limb. Doubting one thing the enemy propaganda had said, the troops suddenly doubted all. A violent revulsion of feeling took place. Before anything else could happen, Bade ordered the troops embarked.
By this time, the apparently harmless rain had produced a severe flood, which repeatedly threatened the power cables supplying the forceway network. The troops had to use this network to get to the ships in time.
As Bade’s military engineers blasted out alternate channels for the rising water, and a fervent headquarters group prayed for a drought, the troops poured through the still-operative forceway stations and marched into the ships with joyful shouts.
The enemy joined the celebration with a mammoth missile attack.
The embarkation, together with the disassembling of vital parts of the accessible key-tools factories, took several days. During this time, the enemy continued his steady methodical advance well behind the front of the cold air mass. The enemy however, made no sudden thrust on the ground to take advantage of the embarkation. Bade pondered this sign of tiredness, then sent up a ship to radio a query home. When the answer came, Bade sent a message to the enemy government. The message began:
“Sirs: This scouting expedition has now completed its mission. We are now withdrawing to winter quarters, which may be: a) an unspecified distant location; b) California; c) Florida. If you are prepared to accept certain temporary armistice conditions, we will choose a). Otherwise, you will understand we must choose b) or c). If you are prepared to consider these armistice conditions, you are strongly urged to send a plenipotentiary without delay. This plenipotentiary should be prepared to consider both the temporary armistice and the matters of mutual benefit to us.”
Bade waited tensely for the
reply. He had before him two papers, one of which read:
“. . . the enemy-held peninsula of Florida has thus been found to be heavily infested with heartworms—parasites which live inside the heart, slow circulation, and lower vital activity sharply. While the enemy appears to be immune to infestation, our troops plainly are not. The four scouts who returned here have at last, we believe, been cured—but they have not as yet recovered their strength. The state of things in nearby Cuba is not yet known for certain. Possibly, the troops’ enormous consumption of native ‘rum’ has interacted medicinally with our blood chemistry to retard infestation. If so, we have our choice of calamities. In any case, a landing in Florida would be ruinous.”
As for California, the other report concluded:
“. . . Statistical studies based on past experience lead us to believe that myth or no myth, immediately upon our landing in California, there will be a terrific earthquake.”
Bade had no desire to go to Florida or California. He fervently hoped the enemy would not guess this.
At length the reply came, Bade read through ominous references to the growing might of the United States of the World, then came to the operative sentence:
“. . . Our plenipotentiary will be authorized to treat only with regard to an armistice; he is authorized only to transmit other information to his government. He is not empowered to make any agreement whatever on matters other than an armistice.”
The plenipotentiary was a tall thin native, who constantly sponged water off his neck and forehead, and who looked at Bade as if he would like cram a nuclear missile down his throat. Getting an agreement was hard work. The plenipotentiary finally accepted Bade’s first condition—that General Kottek not be attacked for the duration of the armistice—but flatly refused the second condition allowing the continued occupation of western Cuba. After a lengthy verbal wrestling match, the plenipotentiary at last agreed to a temporary continuation of the western Cuban occupation, provided that the Gulf of Mexico blockade be lifted. Bade agreed to this and the plenipotentiary departed mopping his forehead.
Bade immediately lifted ships and headed south. His ships came down to seize sections of Sumatra, Java, and Borneo, with outposts on the Christmas and Cocoa islands and on small islands in the Indonesian archipelago.
Bade’s personal headquarters were on a pleasant little island conveniently located in the Sunda Strait between Java and Sumatra. The name of the island was Krakatoa.
Bade was under no illusion that the inhabitants of the islands welcomed his arrival. Fortunately, however, the armament of his troops outclassed anything in the vicinity, with the possible exception of a bristly-looking place called Singapore. Bade’s scouts, after studying Singapore carefully, concluded it was not mobile, and if they left it alone, it would leave them alone.
The enemy plenipotentiary now arrived in a large battleship, and was greeted in the islands with frenzied enthusiasm. Bade was too absorbed in reports of rapidly-improving morale, and highly-successful mass-swimming exercises to care about this welcome. Although an ominous document titled “War in the Islands: U.S.—Japan,” sat among the translated volumes of history at Bade’s elbow, and served as a constant reminder that this pleasant situation could not be expected to last forever, Bade intended to enjoy it while it did last.
Bade greeted the plenipotentiary in his pleasant headquarters on the leveled top of the tall picturesque cone-shaped hill that rose high above Krakatoa, then dropped off abruptly by the sea.
The plenipotentiary, on entering the headquarters, mopped his brow constantly, kept glancing furtively around, and was plainly ill at ease. The interpreters took their places, and the conversation opened.
“As you see,” said Bade, “we are comfortably settled here for the winter.”
The plenipotentiary looked around and gave a hollow laugh.
“We are,” added Bade, “perfectly prepared to return next . . . a . . . ‘summer’ . . . and take up where we left off.”
“By next summer,” said the plenipotentiary, “the United States will be a solid mass of guns from one coast to the other.”
Bade shrugged, and the plenipotentiary added grimly, “And missiles.”
Despite himself, Bade winced.
One of Bade’s clerks, carrying a message across the far end of the room, became distracted in his effort to be sure he heard everything. The clerk was busy watching Bade when he banged into the back of a tall filing case. The case tilted off-balance, then started to fall forward.
A second clerk sprang up to catch the side of the case. There was a low heavy rumble as all the drawers slid out.
The plenipotentiary sprang to his feet, and looked wildly around.
The filing case twisted out of the hands of the clerk and came down on the floor with a thundering crash.
The plenipotentiary snapped his eyes tightly shut, clenched his teeth, and stood perfectly still.
Bade and Runckel looked blankly at each other.
The plenipotentiary slowly opened his eyes, looked wonderingly around the room, jumped as the two clerks heaved the filing case upright, turned around to stare at the clerks and the case, turned back to look sharply at Bade, then clamped his jaw.
Bade, his own face as calm as he could make it, decided this might be as good a time as any to throw in a hard punch. He remarked, “You have two choices. You can make a mutually profitable agreement with us. Or you can force us to switch heavier forces and weapons to this planet and crush you. Which is it?”
“We,” said the plenipotentiary coldly, “have the resources of the whole planet at our disposal. You have to bring everything from a distance. Moreover, we have captured a good deal of your equipment, which we may duplicate—”
“Lesser weapons,” said Bade. “As if an enemy captured your rifles, duplicated them at great expense, and was then confronted with your nuclear bomb.”
“This is our planet,” said the plenipotentiary grimly, “and we will fight for it to the end.”
“We don’t want your planet.”
The plenipotentiary’s eyes widened. Then he burst into a string of invective that the translators couldn’t follow. When he had finished, he took a deep breath and recapitulated the main point, “If you don’t want it, what are you doing here?”
Bade said, “Your people are clearly warlike. After observing you for some time, a debate arose on our planet as to whether we should hit you or wait till you hit us. After a fierce debate, the first faction won.”
“Wait a minute. How could we hit you? You come from another planet, don’t you?”
“Yes, that’s true. But it’s also true that a baby shark is no great menace to anyone. Except that he will grow up into a big shark. That is how our first faction looked on earth.”
The plenipotentiary scowled. “In other words, you’ll kill the suspect before he has a chance to commit the crime. Then you justify it by saying the man would have committed a crime if he’d lived.”
“We didn’t intend to kill you—only to disarm you.”
“How does all this square with your telling us you’re just a scout party?”
“Are you under the impression,” said Bade, “that this is the main invasion force? Would we attack without a full reconnaissance first? Do you think we would merely make one sizable landing, on one continent? How could we hope to conquer in that way?”
The plenipotentiary frowned, sucked in a deep breath, and mopped his forehead. “What’s your offer?”
“Disarm yourselves voluntarily. All hostilities will end immediately.”
The plenipotentiary gave a harsh laugh.
Bade said, “What’s your answer?”
“What’s your real offer?”
“As I remarked,” said Bade, “there were two factions on our planet. One favored the attack, as self-preservation. The other faction opposed the attack, on moral and political grounds. The second faction at present holds that it is now impossible to remain aloof, as we had hoped to be
fore the attack. One way or the other, we are now bound up with Earth. We either have to be enemies, or friends. As it happens, I am a member of the bloc that opposed the attack. The bloc that favored the attack has lost support owing to the results of our initial operations. Because of this political shift, I have practically a free hand at the moment.” Bade paused as the plenipotentiary turned his head slightly and leaned forward with an intent look.
Bade said, “Your country has suffered by far the most from our attack. Obviously, it should profit the most. We have a number of scientific advances to offer as bargaining counters. Our essential condition is that we retain some overt standing—some foothold—some way of knowing by direct observation that this planet—or any nation of it—won’t attack us.”
The plenipotentiary scowled. “Every nation on Earth is pretty closely allied as a result of your attack. We’re a world of united states—all practically one nation. And all the land on the globe belongs to one of us or the other. While there’s bound to be considerable regional rivalry even when we have peace, that’s all. Otherwise we’re united. As a result, there’s not going to be any peace as long as you’ve got your foot on land belonging to any of us. That includes Java, Sumatra, and even this . . . er . . . mountain we’re on now.” He looked around uneasily, and added, “We might let you have a little base, somewhere . . . maybe in Antarctica but I doubt it. We won’t want any foreign planet sticking its nose in our business.”
Bade said, “My proposal allows for that.”
“I don’t see how it could,” said the plenipotentiary. “What is it?”
Bade told him.
The plenipotentiary sat as if he had been hit over the head with a rock. Then he let out a mighty burst of laughter, banged his hand on his knee and said, “You’re serious?”
“Absolutely.”
The plenipotentiary sprang to his feet. “I’ll have to get in touch with my government. Who knows? Maybe—Who knows?” He strode out briskly.
