A Rage for Revenge watc-3

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A Rage for Revenge watc-3 Page 47

by David Gerrold


  The president said, "I have a decision to make today. I want you all to know that it is solely my decision. What I want from you is information. Nothing more. You can spare me your opinions. I know them already." She looked around the room, fixing individuals with her famous glare. I'd heard about that look. A newscaster had once said, after one memorable press conference, that it had made him feel like he was six years old again, and he'd just been caught by his mommy in a fib about the cookie jar. The phrase had caught on. Nobody lied to the president's cookie jar stare.

  "You've seen the video," she said. "The implications of it are . . . disheartening." She poured a glass of water from the pitcher beside her. She took a drink. "But we don't have time to worry about the implications. We have to deal with the basic military issue. We can't avoid it any longer. In fact, let me put it into military terms. Large parts of United States territory are under enemy control. The territories are not only occupied, but colonized. The decision to be made is whether or not we will use nuclear weapons against those beachheads." She looked around the room again.

  The men and women here looked unhappy. I got the feeling that this argument had been going on a long time-and that today it was obvious that one side had finally lost. The evidence of that video was too compelling.

  "I'm no longer interested in the moral question," she said. "What I need to know today are the consequences of continuing with-" she referred to a folder in front of her, "--Operation Valhalla. Plan B. I assume most of you are familiar with the details. By the way, fifteen minutes ago, I authorized the program to be brought on line, holding at Condition Yellow. I say that to emphasize the enormity of this meeting. This is the last go/no-go point." She turned to the secretary of the interior. "Fred? Let's talk about the effects on our civilian population."

  He stood up. "Madam President. There are three consequences that we need to be aware of. The first is the fallout consideration. Even though we intend to use clean-jacketed weapons, we still estimate a significant rise in nuclear streaking effects. Denver will probably have to be evacuated."

  "Say it in English, Fred. Abandoned."

  "-Uh, yes. Abandoned. Uh, except for those facilities that are suitably equipped for operations in a radioactive environment. This facility, for example, could survive for three years with a full complement of personnel." He stopped and looked at her. He was sweating. "Madam President, it's not the short-term effects. We can have this city evacuated in five days, if need be. What I am concerned about is that without appropriate maintenance of its perimeter defenses, we'll just be giving it to the enemy. They'll move in to this area immediately."

  She looked back at him. "So, it's either tomorrow or six months from tomorrow. The simulations say Denver is untenable. We're too close to the largest reservoir of infestation in the country, the Rocky Mountains. If we nuke the nests in the mountains, Denver becomes uninhabitable by the fallout, right? Fine, neither side will have the city then."

  He exhaled. He was beaten. "There are two other points I want to make. First, how will the rest of the civilian population react to the use of nuclear weapons?"

  She said, "Go on."

  "I suspect it will be demoralizing, Ma'am. It will indicate how serious the worm threat is."

  "I suspect it will also indicate how serious we are about stopping it. I'm not concerned about our public relations right now."

  "Yes, Ma'am. My last point is this. There are civilians living in the infested zones. How much time are we going to give them to evacuate? And how will we manage the logistics of that?"

  "Eh?" Her face clouded. "We're not. Fred, you're operating under an assumption here. I'm not going on the air with this until after the missiles are in the air."

  "Madam President!"

  "There will be no announcement!"

  "I protest!"

  "I'm sure you do! Our experience with warning civilians about military action against worms has been somewhat less than thrilling. We have to assume that any human being who is living in a Chtorran zone has somehow developed some form of cooperation with the enemy. I have no intention of forewarning the Chtorran invaders about our next moves, nor giving their renegade collaborators the opportunity to escape to continue their I reason elsewhere." It was the first time I'd seen the president get angry.

  The secretary of the interior looked upset. He sat down.

  The president said, "All right, let me make sure I have this correct now." She ticked off on her fingers. "We are going to have nuclear fallout, right? We will lose Denver. We will lose a large part of the Rocky Mountain areas for the time being, right?"

  The secretary nodded.

  "Seeing as how we've already lost them, then that's not a consideration. Second point. We will have civilian reactions. Seeing as how we're already in a state of permanent emergency, those reactions can be managed. Is that correct?"

  "We hope so."

  "You hope?"

  "Madam President, we have very little history on which to base our models."

  "I'm not interested in computer models, Fred. I want to know gut feelings. How are the people going to react?"

  The secretary shook his head. "I don't know." The president turned to Foreman. "Danny?"

  Foreman closed his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. He concentrated for a moment. He said, "Shock. Some upset. Possible panic." He opened his eyes. "You'll need to make a speech."

  "I was planning on a statement."

  "No. A speech. Rabble-rousing. Angry. Focus the energy on the enemy. Use a lot of good quotes. Talk about commitment, the long dark road. Remind them that the Earth is our planet. Inspire them. "

  "I don't feel very inspiring right now."

  "Hell, lady-who does? Remember what I told you during your last campaign?"

  "Yes. No. Which one?"

  He grinned at her. "Fake it till you make it."

  She looked back at him. "I've been faking it for fifty-three years, Danny. When do I make it?"

  He twinkled. "You didn't notice when it happened?"

  She got off it then, relaxed and turned back to the room. She nodded to her press secretary. "We'll need to reserve a block of TV time. Have Wally and Wilma start on the speech. Have them check with Danny before the final draft." The press secretary nodded and began typing quietly into her clipboard.

  The president said, "All right. Let's keep on purpose." She pointed to the secretary of state. "What kind of reactions can we expect from foreign governments when we go?"

  The secretary of state was a tall, handsome woman in a dark blue suit. She said, "I expect the usual upset and anger, only played at a louder pitch than normal. Everything we do these days creates upset and anger."

  The president nodded with a quiet smile. "I'm willing to have a little upset and anger. Go on."

  "Our allies will try to talk us out of it, of course."

  "Wait a minute. There's an assumption that needs to be cleaned up here. We're not giving anyone any forewarning. Not even our allies."

  The secretary of state looked unhappy. "I don't know how they'll handle it."

  "I'll handle that," said the president. She pointed to her press secretary. "Here's how we'll work it. I'll tape the speech as soon as it's ready. The speech will go on the air as soon as the bombs go off. At the same time, I'll want a conference call with the heads of as many friendly governments as we can get on the line. We'll put diplomatic notes on the network to everyone else. In other words, everybody finds out at the same time. I don't want it on the air anywhere until the planes have dropped their load. Assume that they have video set and picate terminals in those worm camps." There was silence.

  "Is that understood?" Nods.

  "Good." The president turned back to her secretary of state. "Will there be any diplomatic problems that you can't handle?"

  "No, Madam President, there won't. I would like to add something though. There are probably quite a few governments on this planet who are just waitin
g for someone else to take the first step and use nuclear weapons. They may put on a show of complaining at first, but eventually, they'll be using their own bombs on their own invaders. I just want to acknowledge your courage in willing to be first."

  "It's not courage, Anne. It's terror, but thanks anyway." The president smiled gently.

  The secretary of state sat down.

  "All right, we know the military can do the job. The plan can be implemented at any moment. We've looked at the consequences. Again. We've been looking at them for weeks. We're willing to trade our present problems for those problems. Is there anything we've failed to consider?"

  Dr. Zymph spoke up. "Yes. It won't work." Everyone looked at her.

  She said, "Oh, you'll wipe out the biggest camps, but I suspect we'll just have bigger camps to deal with in a year. Two years ago, we thought we'd turned the corner on the gastropedes. We were finding fewer and fewer nests. Suddenly, this year there are thousands of nests. Six months ago, we started to see incredible infestation. It took a very short time for them to begin gathering together and building cities. They're a very fast-paced ecology. The energy flow-through is incredible. The use of nuclear weapons will destroy their current infestations. But it won't handle the problem. We still don't know where the gastropedes are coming from. We could be back at this same point in six months. We cannot continue to bomb them every time they build up."

  The president looked unhappy. "Will it buy us time, Moyra?"

  Dr. Zymph nodded. "Yes, a little. But it's an unsatisfactory solution."

  "I grant you that," said the president. "But it's the least unsatisfactory of all of our unsatisfactory solutions, right now." Dr. Zymph nodded her agreement. "Madam President, may I suggest that we look beyond this moment? We need to up the level of our commitment by several orders of magnitude. We've been putting a series of coordinated proposals on your desk for three weeks now-"

  "I've seen them." The president held up a hand. "But this session is about the decision to go in with the nukes. Friday's session will be about our next steps. Can you wait until then?" Dr. Zymph nodded. She sat down.

  The president said, "We'll take a fifteen-minute break. Then we'll reconvene."

  A lady who overly lusted

  was frequently opened and thrusted.

  When the baby came due

  it was female too,

  and its hymen was already busted.

  60

  The Cookie-Jar Stare

  "It's not who wins or loses that counts-it's who keeps score."

  - SOLOMON SHORT

  The president disappeared into a waiting room with her aides, her press secretary, and the bald man who looked so familiar. I was inxore certain than ever that I knew him from somewhere.

  The Japanese lady motioned to Lizard and she went over to whisper quietly with her. The rest of the meeting was breaking up into small conferences.

  For some reason, I wandered over to say hello to Foreman. "You probably don't remember me," I began.

  "McCarthy, James Earl-no, Edward," he said. He extended a hand. "You're looking . . . feral." He studied me with narrowed eyes. "Are you all right?"

  "No," I said, truthfully.

  Somebody touched Foreman's arm then. He held up a hand to stay that person. He looked at me. "Will you come see me?" There was something about the way he said it.

  "Uh, why?"

  "I want to train you."

  "In what?"

  "Will you come and see me?"

  I thought about it. "All right."

  "Good. Thank you." He turned to the waiting questioner, forgetting me completely.

  What did he want, I wondered. I remembered my last conversation with him-a peripatetic affair. He had been trying to determine if I was fit to be turned loose upon the planet.

  I wandered around the room, eavesdropping on other people's conversations.

  Two naval officers were arguing quietly. " . . . looks to me like she's already made her decision."

  "I don't think so. You don't know the old lady. She's playing devil's advocate. She takes the position and then challenges you to talk her out of it. My guess is that she doesn't want to go nuclear, but she doesn't see any alternative. She's letting us look for a good reason not to."

  "Well, I can think of one," said the taller of the two. "It looks like defeat."

  "That falls in the area of public relations. It can also be made to look like victory. I'll give the old witch credit. She makes her decisions by logistics, not politics." He turned to his colleague quietly to the wall. "You'd better get on the phone and alert your staff. If we take the Hawaii option, there'll be a lot of extra work for the Navy."

  The stocky man nodded. He turned and left the room quietly. I found myself moving up behind Lizard. She was with the Japanese lady and the dark fellow. The Japanese lady noticed me with a polite nod. She looked at Lizard. "Your young man has come a long way since the last time we were all in the same room."

  Lizard said, "I think so." She said to me, "Jim, I don't think you've ever been formally introduced. This is Madam Shibano, and this is Dr. Rico. Madam Shibano and Dr. Rico are two of the three civilian managing directors of the Agency."

  "Dr. Foreman is the third?"

  "Yes, he is," said Madam Shibano. She extended her hand. "I'm glad you have rejoined us, James. It will be good to have you on the team again."

  "Well, I'm not so sure I . . ." Lizard touched my arm gently. A warning, "-uh, I mean, thank you."

  Madam Shibano smiled. "James. You make a difference. That is why you are here today."

  An officer came up to the group then. "Madam Shibano? Dr. Rico? The president would like to see you now."

  "Thank you," she said. Before leaving, she looked to Lizard. "Elizabeth," she said, looking directly at her. "This is a very important meeting."

  "I know," said Lizard. "You can count on me." Then she added, "And McCarthy as well."

  "Good. Thank you."

  After they left, I turned to Lizard. "What was that all 'about?"

  "You're my worm expert."

  "So?"

  "The president hasn't made her decision yet. The video is pretty convincing, but . . . well, she doesn't want to use nuclear weapons on the continental United States. She's desperately looking for an alternative."

  "Is there one?"

  "If there were," Lizard said, "don't you think we'd be arguing for it?"

  "I don't know."

  "Trust me." She put her hand on my shoulder and looked straight into my face. "I may need to call on you. All I want you to do is tell the truth. Tell everything you've seen, everything you know about the worms. That's all."

  "Why me? You've got Dr. Zymph here."

  "Dr. Zymph has never been out in the field. Not like you have. You've put your life on the line. She hasn't. You've seen things she hasn't. She can talk about the ecology-she's an incredible theoretician-but you can tell us what it feels like. You know the experience of it. You've come face to face with it. That's what we need to bring into this conference. A little terror."

  "Like the Chtorran in the auditorium?"

  Lizard didn't blink. "If that's what it takes, yes."

  "Do I have a political position?" I asked.

  "Beg pardon?"

  "What side am I on?" I asked. "My testimony-who am I supporting?"

  "Your facts will speak for themselves," she said.

  "Uh-huh-and what will they say?"

  Lizard looked unhappy. "Use the nukes."

  I didn't reply to that. Not at first. I was trying the idea on.

  "Are you all right?" she asked.

  "I don't know," I said.

  Lizard led me over to a table, poured me a tumbler of ice water and handed it to me. I drank it quickly. I realized I was breathing hard. I said, "When I was in high school, we were given a kind of test. The whole class."

  "The button test?" Lizard asked. "I remember it."

  "Yeah, the button test. We were given the opp
ortunity to press the button. Would we do it? Could we do it?" I remembered the feeling again and felt a cold chill in my stomach. It wasn't just the ice water. "There was a lot of fear in the class. A lot of crying. Even some screaming. In the end, we realized there wasn't one of us who was willing to take the responsibility for launching the missiles."

  "That's the usual result," said Lizard. "But not always."

  "Well, then the question came up. If the majority of the people don't want to own that responsibility, why do we still have nuclear missiles? The teacher-his name was Whitlaw-then offered us the chance to disarm them completely. But none of us would do that either, because we couldn't trust the other side. I think the point of that process was to show us how we were trapped into our present political situation. But all I remember from it is the fear of having that black box in my hands, the one with the red button in the middle of it. There was a point when I was so damned tempted to just press it and end the whole maddening discussion once and for all-but I didn't, of course."

  I looked at Lizard. "Are you getting this? Or am I boring you?"

  "Go on," she said.

  "Well, this is the point. Here I am really being given the decision to press the button."

  "It's the president's decision," said Lizard.

  "Not entirely. I might be given a voice here. I'm part of the decision. That was the point of that process. It's my responsibility too. I can't speak to the issue unless I'm willing to own it."

  "I see," said Lizard. "And are you? Are you willing to drop the bomb?"

  I said, "I don't know. And I do. It's the logical extension of everything. It's my whole history. It's the same question as the little girl in the corral, as Shorty, and the people in the auditorium-and the renegades. It's all those lives. I don't want to be the one who has to make the decision-but I keep getting handed the gun, or the flame-thrower. And now it's the black box with the red button. I don't want it."

  She grabbed me by the shoulders. "Listen to me. What you want is irrelevant. I want all the Chtorrans to disappear. I want my husband alive again. I want my baby alive again. I want to go back in time four years. But can I make any of that happen? No. I can't. This is it. The question is not what you want, but what you're willing to do with what you've got."

 

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