by Peter Bryant
"That is in six months," Steele said stiffly. "For at least four months of that period they will have their long range missiles ready and we will not. They know that."
"Yes, but they know other things too. Or at least," the President turned and looked at Zorubin, "they will know. For example, they already know they cannot stop the 52.K’s with their radar-guided missiles. I would not think they could replace their radar missiles inside a period of six months with missiles which are still experimental."
Zorubin’s eyes flickered for just a moment. He was conscious of the President’s keenly assessing gaze. He smiled. The President had spotted the obvious flaw in the Russian position.
"Then again," the President continued, "they know the second wing of K’s become operational this month, and a third next month. They will also know, as soon as His Excellency’s report reaches them, that from now until the time our Minuteman sites are operational, I am ordering a force of at least twenty bombers of the K type to be airborne twenty-four hours of each day, fully armed. They will not head for their X points, but remain in the refuelling areas. They will be under my direct control. They will guarantee the peace, until the Minuteman sites make peace inevitable. And peace, gentlemen, I am determined to create,"
Zorubin’s voice was quiet as he said, "The President is correct. Once both sides have missiles which will automatically retaliate, war becomes profitless. If it is profitless, it will not be fought." He shrugged. "Ideological differences are not so sharply defined as the line between life and death. We may have to learn how to differ. But better that than having to learn how to die."
"Exactly," the President said. "And now gentlemen, I wish to speak privately with the Russian Ambassador and the Secretary of State. I have promised compensation for any damage caused. I shall probably go to Moscow to discuss details with the Marshal. The Ambassador and I will make arrangements with him immediately. Thank you all for your help."
Zorubin watched the service officers and aides file out of the room. He thought this could well be the beginning of a new era. On both sides, Russian and American, the men who counted had lived through two hours of fear. It had not been theoretical fear, the kind of fear any sane man felt when he contemplated the destruction potential of the two opposing camps. It had been genuine, inescapable fear of the logical end to a course of events which they had seemed powerless to prevent. No-one, on either side, could live through a time like that and ever again seek war.
"You know," the President said, "the general who actually launched the attack did so because he was convinced it was the only way to secure peace on earth."
Zorubin considered the President’s words for a moment. "Well," he said, "his attack failed. But I’m not sure it hasn’t resulted in securing peace on earth just the same."
"Let’s hope so." The President sank into the seat he had used during the action. He was very weary, but he felt that his biggest effort was still to come. Yet he looked forward to it. He felt, like Zorubin, that no-one who had lived through that time could ever again take any action which might lead to war. "Let’s make it so," he said determinedly. He signaled for the link to be opened, and began to talk to the Marshal.
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