[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Amazing Stories June 1962.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
I
In the little formal garden in Geneva, the guards had withdrawn
discreetly, out of sight and hearing of the two men who sat on a carved
marble bench in the center of the enclosure.
The President of the United States was too old for the days of strained
public and private meetings and the constant badgering of his advisers
that had preceded this final, seemingly foredoomed effort. His hands
trembled as he lifted them to light a cigarette. Only his voice still
held its accustomed calm.
"Then it's stalemate, Feodor Stepanovich. I can make no more
concessions without risking impeachment."
The dark, massive head of the Russian Premier nodded. "Nor can I,
without committing political suicide." His English was better than
the rural dialect of Russian he still retained. "Call it a double
checkmate. Our predecessors sowed their seeds too deep for our spades.
Or should I say, too high?"
Both heads turned to the north, where a bright spot was climbing above
the horizon. The space station sparkled in sunlight far above Earth,
sliding with Olympian deliberation past a few visible stars until it
was directly overhead. Without a timetable or a telescope, there was no
way of knowing whether it was the Russian _Tsiolkovsky_ or the American
_Goddard_, nor did either man care. Half the world lived in almost
hysterical fear of one or the other, with the rest of the human race
existing in terror of both.
The Premier muttered something from the ugliness of his childhood
experiences, but the President only sighed unhappily, as if sorry that
his own background gave him no such expressions.
A few minutes later, the leaders separated. As they moved across the
garden, their escorts surrounded them, clearing the way toward the
cars that would take them to the airport. Behind them, professional
diplomats stopped puzzling over the delay and began spinning
obfuscations to cynical reporters. The phrases had long since lost all
meaning, but the traditions of propaganda had to be maintained.
In the UN, the Israeli delegate crumpled a news dispatch and began
speaking without notes, demanding that space be inter-nationalized. It
was the greatest speech of his career, and even the delegate from Egypt
applauded. But national survival could not be trusted to the shaky
impartiality of the UN. The resolution was vetoed by both the United
States and Russia.
The Fourteenth Space Disarmament Conference was ended.