by Ian Douglas
He felt better now, more sure, more confident, prouder than at any time since he’d raised his hand for his swearing in.
Maybe he would make the Space Marines. Maybe not. But he was going to be a Marine….
FOURTEEN
WEDNESDAY, 11 JUNE 2042
Le Édifice de la Monde Uni
Geneva, Switzerland
1540 hours GMT
“We have a problem,” the tall man said. “And an unparalleled chance to rectify it. With this one decision, this one act, we can end the war once and for all. To ignore this opportunity would be…criminal.”
His name was Marie-Claude Balmont, and he, with the fourteen other people gathered about the large, round table with him, was the closest thing the Earth had ever had to a world ruler. Not Alexander, not the Caesars, not Kublai Khan or Adolph Hitler or Josef Stalin had ever commanded the allegiance of so vast a sweep of territory, peoples, and forces. Alexander the Great might have wept when he believed he had no more worlds to conquer, but his empire stretched across barely a fifth of the lands now under United Nations control.
To say nothing of the various UN orbital stations and facilities…or the Moon, for that matter, now again solidly under UN control.
Officially, perhaps, it was Dr. José Luís Lozoya who might be said to be the true ruler of the world…but the title of Secretary General of the United Nations was nowadays largely an empty title, one reserved for ceremonies, speeches, and the signings of treaties, not for the real work of consolidating global power and authority. The same could be said for the UN General Assembly, which still argued and voted on a variety of issues but more and more was simply a rubber-stamp body for the Security Council.
No, it was definitely the United Nations Security Council, with five permanent members and the representatives of ten other nations elected every two years, that represented the world government’s true authority. For the past year and a half, the Security Council had been largely responsible for the planning and the execution of the war, at least in terms of broad strategy.
“You cannot possibly be serious, Monsieur Balmont,” George Sinclair, the British representative said. “What you are proposing is sheer madness!”
“You might consider voting for a change, then, George,” Balmont replied, speaking fluent English with a grin. “Instead of carrying on with this perpetual sulk.”
Sinclair scowled as several others at the table chuckled. “The stand my nation is taking in regard to the prosecution of this illicit war—”
“Is well-known to us all, yes.”
“I, for one,” Zhao Dinghua, the North China representative said, his Mandarin translated emotionlessly over the delegates’ ear clips, “would like to hear more of this proposal by the European Union. We believe it has considerable merit.” Several of the other members, permanent and elected, nodded agreement.
“We’ve not been able to say much about it thus far,” Balmont said, “for reasons of security.” He glanced at Sinclair, the weakest of several weak links now on the Council. Something would have to be done about that one.
Standing, Balmont gestured at the huge, electronic world map that filled the upper half of one of the chamber’s curving walls. UN member states were shown in blue, the neutral or antiwar states—Great Britain, Sweden, Korea, Belarus, Australia, Canton, Quebec, and a handful of others—in gray. The enemy nations—Russia, Japan, and the United States, glowed red. All of the major fronts were shown as well in brighter red, from the largely static battle lines in northern Mexico, to the broad Russian fronts along the Ukraine, Kazakh, and Chinese borders.
“The war,” Balmont said, “has ground to a standstill. With Quebec’s withdrawal from the war in the first year, we have only been able to keep up direct pressure against the United States through cruise-missile attacks, and along the Mexican front. I needn’t add that we are making little headway.”
“Are you suggesting that Mexico is not doing its part?” Ramón Suarez, the Mexican representative, demanded. “If the rest of the member states would give us sufficient munitions, men, supplies, and weapons, we could perhaps drive the yanquis back across our border, and liberate sovereign Aztlan! That, I remind you, is the reason we are fighting this conflict!”
Well, that might have been why Mexico was in it. “No one is questioning the valiant effort and valuable martial contribution of Mexico in the prosecution of the war,” Balmont said. He managed to keep a straight face as he said the words, too, despite the fact that Mexico’s performance so far had been little short of comical. If the Americans hadn’t already been so drastically overextended with their expeditionary forces in Russia, if they hadn’t been holding back massive reserves against the possibility of major UN landings on their coasts, they would have captured Ciudad de México long ago, in all probability knocking Mexico out of the war as decisively as they’d done to Quebec early in the fighting. “And it is regrettable that the member nations have not been able to afford more in the way of men and materiel on the Mexican front. That should, we expect, change in the very near future. After the implementation of Operation Damocles.
“However, the fact remains that for now, our primary military effort has been against the Russian Federation. Russia has the largest border, is most vulnerable to invasion, and thus far has offered the greatest strategic reward.”
“The best chance for plunder and rape, you mean,” Suarez exclaimed, ignoring the council’s speaker protocol. “Who gets that reward you mention? Ukraine! Kazakh and the Shiite Union! And, of course, our good friends in North China!” He bowed sardonically toward Zhao, who watched impassively. “These people are enriching themselves at Russia’s expense, while we in Mexico stand at the edge of total defeat! Meanwhile, you talk of asteroids and orbits and magical plans for ending the war. What we need, my countrymen, is sufficient military assistance and reinforcements to punch through the yanquis lines.” He slammed the table with an open hand. “Fast! Hard! We do not need these circular and complex plans of yours, Señor Balmont.”
“If I may continue,” Balmont said coldly, “we will address your complaints, Señor Suarez. As I was saying, the front lines have been largely static for well over a year, now. Ukraine forces are stalled at Voronezh. Russian forces have counterinvaded Kazakh and even retaken their former launch facilities at Baykonyr. And China, while making substantial gains past the Amur, and even managing to cut the Trans-Siberian Railway at Belogorsk and Khabarovsk, has after two years been unable to crack the Russian and American lines near Vladivostok.” He glanced at Zhao, wondering if the Chinese representative was going to interrupt or protest as Suarez had done, but the man was as silent, and as unreadable, as ever. “It is time to try something new, something daring and bold, to break the stalemate once and for all and end this bloody, unfortunate conflict. And Damocles is the way to do it.”
“If I may ask,” Shekar Rikhye, the North Indian representative, said in his quietly formal, diffident manner, hand raised, “about Millénium? I thought that the antimatter warship was considered the key to UN success.”
“True,” Balmont said. “It was. But we can no longer depend on the one ship, however powerful, as a guarantee for victory. The Americans have learned far too much in recent months. And their own work on an antimatter-powered warship appears to be proceeding rapidly. The well-known American proficiency with things technological could easily put them in the lead of this particular race, despite our recovery of the ancient ET wreckage at Picard.”
The representative for one of the ten elected members, Abdel-Malek of Egypt and the Islamic Union, raised a hand. “Sir! The plan as you have described it seems to me to risk ecological catastrophe. I speak as the citizen of a nation that has for thousands of years lived balanced on the slender line between plenty and starvation! To wield such powers as you suggest, to risk such devastating and wholesale destruction—” He stopped, then shook his head. “Perhaps an all-out attack against the American antimatter ship instead?”
> “The Security Council’s Military Advisory Committee has worked out the plan for Damocles in considerable detail, with extensive computer simulation. General Brunmuller and his staff believe it offers us the best chance for complete and immediate victory. With the United States decisively knocked out of the war, both Japan and Russia will capitulate swiftly, especially if they are told a similar judgment will be unleashed upon them if they do not. The Advisory Committee did look at the possibility of a raid or even a nuclear strike against the Americans’ L-3 shipyard. That facility is so remote, however, and so closely screened by detection webs and sensors, that there is no hope of approaching undetected, even with the stealthiest vehicles.” He gave a Gallic shrug. “And even if we should succeed in knocking out their AM vessel, what then? A counterstrike against Millénium? Or the discovery that they have other such vessels under construction elsewhere, perhaps within the continental United States where we have not been able to ferret out their existence? No, no, my friends, the risks are too grave, the prize too important, failure too terrible to contemplate. It is Damocles, or defeat!”
Still standing, he tapped out a series of keystrokes on the touch-sensitive surface at his place at the table. A large display monitor on the wall opposite the world map came to life. Half of the people at the table turned in their chairs to watch.
On the screen was an image a select few in the room had seen before, a dusty, smooth-sided boulder; the girder-and-tin-can assembly of the European Union’s Science Research Vessel Pierre-Simon Laplace hung in the slow-tumbling boulder’s shadow, a measure of its scale.
“Asteroid 2034L,” Balmont said. “Currently some three and a half million million kilometers from Earth. We have been pacing it for months now and know its orbit and its mass to the highest precision possible. The nuclear charges have already been placed by the Sagittaire, which arrived on-station in May.” He tapped out another code, and the image of the asteroid and the trailing research vessel was replaced by a detailed, animated graphic, showing the orbits of the Earth, the Moon, and the asteroid. “At a precisely determined moment, the detonation of those nuclear charges will give Asteroid 2034L a precisely determined nudge, a delta-v, as the rocketry engineers say, that will send it into a new course, one that we have computed with complete accuracy.” As he spoke, the graphic of the asteroid flashed once, brightly, and shifted to a new orbit, diverging from the old. As a counter marking elapsed days flickered in the lower right corner of the screen, 2034L curved inward, accelerating rapidly, leaping toward the turning blue-and-white globe of Earth, which expanded as the animation’s point of view zoomed in close. The asteroid, traveling slightly faster than the Earth, actually missed the planet by a narrow margin, cutting inside its orbit and crossing over the dayside.
Then, under the steady tug of Earth’s gravity, it began curving back, entering the slender blur of Earth’s atmosphere just as the continental United States rotated smoothly beneath the falling point, as though to catch it.
The endpoint of the asteroid’s journey was marked with a flashing red beacon above glowing crosshairs, in the west-central United States just east of the Rockies. The coordinates 105° 33’ W, 38° 51’ N appeared on the screen.
“The gods of orbital mechanics favored us with 2034L,” Balmont said, smiling. “It will need remarkably little in the way of orbit modification to bring it down on target. Our people are confident that the impact will occur on 15 September and within sixty kilometers of these coordinates.
“Greater precision is not necessary. Asteroid 2034L, though trailing Earth as it falls and therefore moving quite slowly relative to the planet, will nonetheless strike with an expected yield of between two hundred and four hundred megatons. Peterson Aerospace Force Base, home of the 46th Aerospace Wing. Falcon Aerospace Force Base, home for the 2nd Space Wing. The North American Defense Command, the Aerospace Defense Command, and the entire Cheyenne Mountain Complex. These last, which are hardened to survive direct nuclear strikes, may not be destroyed, depending on 2034L’s exact point of impact, but they will almost certainly be so deeply buried in rubble that they will be knocked out of the war. And a direct or near-direct hit by that large a falling object…” He spread his hands. “NORAD, the enemy’s nerve center, the very heart of his command and control, would be obliterated.”
On the screen, the view drew back, showing now the battle lines in northern Mexico as a violet ring spread out from the impact in Colorado.
“The destruction will not be limited to Colorado, of course. Several dozen major cities from California to the Mississippi River, cities as far away as Great Salt Lake and Albuquerque, will suffer serious damage. Denver, Colorado Springs, Pueblo, Cheyenne, all will be destroyed. The flash will set vast forest areas aflame. We estimate initial civilian casualties to be on the order of three to five million.
“More important, however, military forces throughout the American Southwest and in northern Mexico will be at least temporarily crippled. Their communications knocked out, blinded by a vast pall of dust filling the sky, bombarded by a fiery rain of debris, their morale destroyed, roads and maglev rails cut, supplies lost, their entire rear area overturned in complete chaos and confusion…they would not be able to resist that single hard, sharp thrust by your armies, Señor Suarez.”
The Mexican representative looked thunderstruck. “But…but my people would suffer, too…”
“There may be earth tremors as far south as Mexico City, true,” Balmont admitted. “Your northernmost towns and villages might be hit by quakes and windblown dust. What of it? Your troops would…as the Americans say, ‘hunker down’ before impact. They would know what was coming, know that the enemy had been thrown into turmoil. They would weather the shock, then stride forward in victory. They will find, I think, the entire proposed state of Aztlan, from southern California to Texas to what was left of Colorado, in such bad shape that they would be welcomed as saviors.
“But far more importantly, the ability of the United States to continue prosecuting this war would be ended. Permanently. We will have literally carved the heart from the beast. Their troops would barely be sufficient to maintain order at home, in the face of widespread losses of water, power, transportation, and medical services. And that, of course, is the point.”
As Balmont continued talking, continued trying to convince the uncommitted members of the Council, he studied the face of each member in turn. He was, first and foremost, a politician; he’d led the European Union Socialist Party for five years, before being elected chancellor of France, then Secretary General of the Union, before finally being appointed as his country’s representative to the UN. In all those years, in all those power struggles, he’d learned how to read the faces of enemies, of friends, and of the people he needed to sway.
The Security Council’s makeup had changed a lot in the past decade. Originally the five permanent members were the United States, the Soviet Union, China, Great Britain, and France, but the changing face of the world’s major governments had forced the Council’s evolution into a more flexible, more powerful form. The United States had been expelled from permanent membership for refusing to accept the UN-sponsored referendum on independence for the proposed new nation of Aztlan. The Russian Federation—heir to the old Soviet state—had been expelled as well for refusing to recognize China’s age-old claims on much of Siberia.
To replace the two vacancies, the North Indian Federation and Brazil had been added to permanent-member status. The current problem child was Great Britain, which both continued to refuse to join the European Union—a rebellion ongoing now since the last century—and, worse, insisted on a policy of strict neutrality in what they called the American war. In the face of Britain’s stubborn intransigence, the Charter rules had recently been rewritten so that binding resolutions could be passed with only four of the five permanent members voting aye…though still with a total of nine necessary for passage. Lately, there’d been talk of a major reorganization of the Security Cou
ncil, in order to grant permanent status to other nations, such as the Islamic Union, Iran, and Argentina, to better reflect the true balance of power in the world.
It would not be enough, Balmont knew. The tendency these days, more and more, was for superstates to fragment. It had happened to the old Soviet Empire in 1989, to Yugoslavia in the 1990s, and to Canada a decade later. It had happened to both India and to China in the late 2020s, and there was growing fear that the relatively young European Union would not be able to remain united for long.
And the conclusions of the Geneva Report still hung over them all. The year 2050—just eight years away—had been identified as a kind of point of no return. If the world was not united by then, fully united under a United Nations able to set policy and law and enforce them, the future of humankind would be bleak indeed, with a population of ten billion, dwindling reserves of oil and other natural resources, and the prospect of disease, starvation, and cannibalism on a global scale.
The war had to be ended, and it had to be ended now, with a decisive UN victory that would give the presumptive world government the teeth it needed to begin the rationing programs that might, might save humanity.
The alternative was too dark to contemplate.
And yet, even within the UN Security Council, the bickering, the divisive power plays, the games continued. It was enough to make Balmont sick. Operation Damocles, he was certain, would bring more nations to heel than the US, Japan, and Russia. There were other enemies to be defeated, enemies still nominally members of the United Nations.
Enemies like…
George Sinclair stood suddenly, his face flushed. “I find the details of this plan of yours…disturbing. Even terrifying. What you propose…” He stopped, shaking his head, groping for words. “It is well-known that an asteroid striking the Yucatán Peninsula millions of years ago changed the climate of the entire world and brought the dinosaurs to extinction. You could do the same to us, to all mankind! This, this Damocles of yours is a doomsday weapon!”
