Clifford remained expressionless and said nothing. The President thought to himself for a while before resuming.
"Earlier this evening it was reported that the Chinese and Afrab forces in northern India have begun using nuclear weapons on a limited scale in certain key areas. The Indians are retaliating in kind. Undoubtedly this will spread and escalate if things are left to run their course.
"It was agreed between myself and the heads of allied governments less than three hours ago that we would issue a joint ultimatum calling upon the invading forces to cease hostilities in all theaters and to withdraw immediately to the recognized international frontiers. This ultimatum will almost certainly be rejected, at which point it was our intention to proceed immediately with the first phase of our selective strategy I described—an instant J-bomb strike at their means of nuclear retaliation.
"Now, going back to our hypothetical situation, if you were free to use the weapon in the way that you visualize, would there be any reason for me to change my mind? Would there be any reason for me not to convey to the allied governments confirmation of my intent to endorse the ultimatum as planned?"
"No reason at all," Clifford replied. "In fact, if that were the position, it would be important that you did."
Chapter 23
TO
THE REPRESENTATIVES OF
THE GRAND ALLIANCE OF
PROGRESSIVE PEOPLES REPUBLICS
In a series of acts of internal subversion and overt aggression that has been perpetrated over many years, the consortium of powers to whom this message is addressed have repeatedly and blatantly interfered in the affairs of nation-states that have expressed neither the wish to affiliate themselves in any way, politically, militarily, or economically, with the objectives of that consortium, nor to accept the ideological creeds to which it subscribes. These acts have been committed in pursuit of the consortium's declared goal of securing for itself the status of domination over all of the world's peoples, races, and nations, without regard either for their wishes or for the policies of their freely elected representatives and governments.
Repeated attempts by the governments of the free world to establish a rational dialogue with the consortium nations and to achieve the peaceful coexistence of all nations have been met only with hostility and progressively higher levels of provocation. The continuing invasion by force of the territories of India and Russia marks the escalation of that provocation to a level that the free world finds itself unable to tolerate.
Accordingly, we, the appointed representatives of the governments of the nations that are signatory to the formal Alliance of Western Democratic States, give notice of our demands as follows:
1. That the military forces of all nations that are included in the alliance to whom this message is addressed cease forthwith their operations in all theaters of combat.
2. That the forces referred to in (1) above withdraw completely all personnel, armaments, munitions, and materiel to the appropriate internationally recognized frontiers.
3. That the illegally imposed regimes in Hong Kong, Taiwan, and South Korea be dissolved and that new governments be established by processes of freely conducted and internationally supervised elections.
4. That an international body be convened, composed of representatives of both the eastern and western alliances of nations, to explore ways of limiting and ultimately of terminating totally the development and deployment of strategic weapons systems of all types.
We hereby give notice also that if formal accession to these demands has not been received by 12:00 noon, local time in Washington, D.C., on the 27th day of November 2007, a state of war will be deemed to exist between all nations included in the Grand Alliance of Progressive Peoples Republics, and the nations that are signatory to the treaty of the Alliance of Western Democratic States.
Alexander George Sherman,
President of the United States of America
Wolfgang Klessenhauer,
President of the United States of Europe
Maxwell James Dominic,
President of the Republic of Canada
Yuri Josef Sashkavov,
President of the Republic of Euro-Russia
Martin Craig-Wilson,
Prime Minister of the Federation of Australia and New Zealand
Simil Kung Yo San,
President of the Malaysian and Indonesian Federation
Yashiro Mitsobaku,
President of Japan
Issued from Washington, D.C.
12:00 noon, 25 November 2007.
* * *
Aub stared once more at the copy of the ultimatum that lay on top of the console beside him. His eyes still registered a disbelief, even after two days, and kept straying back to the document as if hoping that some mystical agency might miraculously have changed the message carried in its words. All hopes were gone now, drowned in the dull sickness that lay in the pit of his stomach. So now, after everything, it had finally come to this. The nightmare that he had staunchly refused to believe for all that time was really happening. He felt bitter, betrayed, and confused.
A few feet away from him, seated in the second operator's position in the Control Room, Clifford was engrossed with updating the fire-control programs via the BIACs. Deep below them in the lower recesses of Brunnermont, the dreadful machine that Aub had grown to hate was primed and ready, generators humming and beam on and up to power, waiting to unleash its holocaust. There were only minutes left to run before the ultimatum expired. For the past forty-eight hours, Aub and Clifford had been taking shifts to maintain a constant readiness against the possibility of a surprise attack during the ultimatum period. But there had been no change in the pattern of activity across the global scene; there had been no acknowledgment of the ultimatum at all. Reports from the fronts were that the fighting was continuing unabated.
Aub attracted Clifford's attention and indicated his desire for Clifford to keep his eye on things alone for a moment while he took a final breath of air outside the Control Room before the action commenced. Clifford nodded his assent, whereupon Aub removed his BIAC skull-harness, stretched his cramped limbs gratefully, rose from the console, and walked out to the access gallery where he stopped to lean on the balustrade and stare out over the Operational Command Floor.
The scene that confronted him, with its air of calm, well-regulated efficiency and smooth organization, could have been the inside of the control center for a space mission . . . were it not for the preponderance of military uniforms. All the communications posts were manned; the display screens were alive; the duty operators were all at their assigned positions and attending to their well-rehearsed tasks, while groups of senior officers surveyed the proceedings from various parts of the room. To one side President Sherman, Vice President Donald Reyes, and Defense Secretary Foreshaw were standing at the center of a semicircle of aides in front of a permanently open communications console, ready for any last-minute response to the ultimatum. This all reminded Aub grimly of a prison warden in an earlier age standing by for an eleventh-hour reprieve before executing sentence on a condemned criminal. He doubted if there would be any reprieve of the death sentence that had been passed on mankind.
He asked himself again why he had failed to declare his dissociation from the business long before this. Why had he not walked out? Had it been simply because he had continued deep down to believe in the man he had once called a friend until it was too late? Or was it now just a case of animal survival? Was he, like the priests performing their rituals at the sacrificial altars below, just reacting to the subconscious knowledge that only the power of the new god they served could preserve them through the wrath that was ordained to come? But whatever things were written on the pages that Destiny had not yet disclosed, there could be no going back now; to quit at this stage would be merely to guarantee the greater disaster.
He gazed at the clock set high on the far wall of the Command Floor, its window at the extreme right showing th
e relentless flow of seconds. Uncontrollable fingers of ice caressed his spine, and nausea rose to his throat. Less than three minutes. Time to get tuned back in. He turned and re-entered the Control Room.
Clifford was looking toward the door as he came in, as if waiting for Aub to enter. Aub sat down dully and began positioning the BIAC harness.
"Aub." Clifford's voice was barely more than a murmur, yet it carried a strange note of urgency. Aub looked up. Clifford was leaning toward him, at the same time holding his arm outstretched to keep a key on his panel depressed, thus temporarily cutting off audio and visual contact between the Control Room and the Command Floor below.
"Aub, it's not the way you think," Clifford said, whispering hurriedly. "There isn't time to explain now. But it was important that your reactions and Sarah's be absolutely genuine all the way through. Everybody has been under observation here, all the time. I couldn't risk anyone not acting out his part faithfully." Aub started to shake his head in bewilderment, but just then Clifford glanced at the clock and hushed him with a gesture of his hand.
"When the action starts, I want you to do everything I say without any questions. I know how you've been feeling. But it's gonna be okay. Trust me."
As if in a trance, Aub nodded mutely, his eyes wide and dazed, his jaw hanging limp. Before he could form any coherent reply, the auxiliary screen came to life above Clifford's head.
"Hello, Control Room. We've lost you on the primary channel. Switch to standby while we check for faults." The face of one of the operators below spoke out of the display. Clifford released the key he had been holding.
"Sorry, my fault," he advised. "Must have knocked the switch. How's that?"
The face of the operator glanced off screen for a second.
"That's fine. Clearing down standby." One of the two faces now showing disappeared; the other continued to stare at them for a moment and then, evidently satisfied, turned to attend to other chores.
Aub began to frame some kind of a question when a new voice came through the speaker above the Control Room doorway. "H-hour minus thirty seconds. Still no response to ultimatum."
After that there was no time to think of questions.
"Report status of weapon delivery system," ordered the voice of the operations coordinator from the supervisory platform below.
"Fire-control sequence primed and ready for Phase One Strike," Clifford replied. "Awaiting orders."
"Acknowledged. Stand by."
"Standing by."
General Carlohm, Supreme Commander of the Allied Integrated Command, approached the President, still standing by the open-channel console.
"Request confirmation of present standing orders," he said. Sherman nodded.
"No change."
Carlohm turned to his deputy, who was standing behind him.
"Confirm orders to all military forces. All units to maintain a condition of armed alert. Defend as necessary if attacked, but otherwise do not engage in offensive hostilities." The deputy acknowledged, then walked over to a console operator to relay the message out to the global command chain of the Western armed forces.
Ten seconds.
The eyes in the group of tense, grim faces clustered around the communications unit were all fixed on the President. His gaze was riveted on the screen visible above the operator's head, his tongue running unconsciously back and forth across his dry lips. Nothing.
Zero. Still nothing.
"The ultimatum has expired," Carlohm reported formally. "I request confirmation of your approval to authorize Phase One." Sherman took a long, deep breath and turned at last away from the empty screen. Absolute silence had descended on all sides.
"Proceed, General," he instructed.
Carlohm passed the order to the deputy who conveyed it to the operational coordinator. The coordinator activated the channel that connected him to the Control Room.
"Authorization to proceed confirmed. Execute Phase One Strike."
"Proceeding," Clifford returned. "Executing Phase One Strike now."
What followed was practically an anticlimax. A second or two later, Clifford's voice calmly informed them:
"Phase One completed."
There was nothing more to it than that. The information coming in from a thousand tracking points all around and over the world told the story on the displays surrounding them: between the last two times that Clifford had spoken, every ORBS satellite and orbiting antisatellite laser deployed by hostile powers had ceased to exist. The immediate threat of any direct attack on the Western nations had been totally removed. That still left, however, the less immediate but nevertheless formidable threat of submarine, surface- and air-launched missiles. These had to be dealt with next.
The tension began to ease somewhat. The worst was over. The victory was in the bag. In one or two places, amused grins appeared at the thought of the confusion and consternation that would at that moment be breaking out in similar places on the other side of the world.
"Permission to authorize Phase Two?" Carlohm asked the President. "Missile subs and launch silos."
"Proceed," Sherman responded. The order reached the operations coordinator, who turned towards his panel. Suddenly his face knotted into a puzzled frown. He began jabbing repeatedly at the buttons in front of him. An assistant sitting slightly forward of him was turning and muttering, making helpless gestures toward his own console.
"What's happening?" came the voice of Vice President Reyes, sharply.
"I'm not sure." The coordinator looked perplexed. "We've lost contact with the Control Room. Primary channel's dead; standby's dead; backup systems aren't responding." He spoke into a microphone grille on the panel. "Control Room, Control Room. We've lost you completely. Do you hear? Come in please." He toggled more switches furiously and tried again. No response.
"You've got a fault," somebody said.
"Impossible. Triple redundancy circuits. Something funny's going on."
A low hum followed by the dull thud of a heavy object striking solid resistance came from above their heads. Every face turned upward. The massive steel door had closed in the far wall of the gallery, sealing off the Control Room. Indignant voices rose up on all sides.
"What in hell's going on?"
"Somebody's flipped."
"Christ! It's all gonna screw up."
Then one of the operators at a monitoring station a few feet away from the coordinator became excited. "Access doors to generator floors, accelerators, J-reactor, modulator levels, and computer floor have all closed. The entire system is sealed off and all local controls have been deactivated by Control Room override."
"What's he talking about?" Reyes demanded. The coordinator slumped back in his seat and showed his upturned palms.
"The whole system is being controlled by those two guys up there." He pointed up toward the gallery. "We can't get in, and they're not talking to us. We can't get at any part of the machine either."
"Well . . . damn it . . . what can you do?"
"Nix."
"Can't you pull the plug on the damn thing—or something?"
"Wouldn't do any good. It's got its own generating station below that can run for years. There's no way we can get in at that either."
Reyes spun round to confront the group of agitated Presidential aides. Sherman himself seemed to be taking the situation more calmly than anybody . . . unnaturally so. His reaction, or apparent lack of one, served only to confuse the Vice President more.
"I don't understand it," Reyes said. "Alex. What are you going to do?"
"You've just heard," Sherman told him. "It doesn't look as if there's anything we can do. So I guess we just have to do what the old lady said—if it's gonna happen anyway, lie back and enjoy it."
Carlohm, who had been conferring with his staff officers and studying the details of the reports coming in on the displays, interrupted. "Excuse me. Can I update you on our evaluation of the situation. Not all enemy satellites have been destroyed. Their strate
gic bombardment system and orbital lasers have been eliminated, but their capability for intercepting our own satellites with space-launched missiles is still intact. Since it looks as if we might not be able to rely on further J-strikes, I suggest we alert our conventional defenses to prepare for independent action."
"Very well," Sherman agreed. "From now on we treat this as a conventional operation. You now have sole command of all forces. Act as you see fit."
Carlohm issued a brief list of instructions to his staff, who dispersed to translate them into orders for the commanders of the Western defenses. Within minutes, salvos of missiles were discharged by the surviving enemy satellites; ground launchings were detected from Siberia to South Africa, which proved to be not ICBMs but interceptor missiles streaking upward to join in the assault on the unscathed Western satellite array. As the attacking waves closed in upon their targets, orbiting lasers and defensive missiles were brought into action to counter them.
During the next fifteen minutes the pattern of attrition unfolded: The enemy missiles were not getting through. All the calculations and simulations had shown that even with all the most favorable assumptions, the Western defensive system could never achieve the kill-rate that was being indicated on the screens. Something else was at work. That something could only be the J-weapon, which made it all the more strange for the two scientists to seal themselves in.
Then a new and inexplicable trend became apparent in the reports: a terrible toll was being taken of the friendly ORBS and laser satellites. The enemy missiles were not getting through to their targets, and yet the targets were being destroyed. Suddenly Carlohm realized what was happening.
"It's those two crazy bastards up there!" he yelled, turning purple. "They're wiping out our own satellites!"
At the end of an hour the situation was clear. Neither side was left with the means of delivering a strategic attack from orbit, both having lost their ORBS systems entirely. However, since the East had suffered the loss of its system in the first swift blow, it had been obliged to attempt to redress the balance by sending its anti-satellite missiles against the ORBS system of the West, which at that time had been still intact. This had forced the West to respond by firing off much of its stock of antimissile missiles.
The Genesis Machine Page 25
