News of the Battle of Schiller did not reach Earth (those
portions controlled by the United Commonwealth) until July 3, one week
after the fact, and one day before the annual celebration of the
nation's Independence. The President received from Hayes at that time
a three line, uncoded message:
THE COALITION FIRST COMBAT FLEET IS NEUTRALIZED AND THE PLANET SCHILLER
DESTROYED. THE PUPPET GOVERMENTS OF THE POST-EUROPEAN COMMUNIST PACT
ARE COWED AND IN DISARRAY. WE HAVE DEALT ANOTHER SERIOUS BLOW TO
SOVIET HOPES OF EXPANSIONISM.
In the same pouch came Admiral Frank's report to the Joint Chiefs of
Staff, giving a detailed account of the battle, and of the performance
of the Third Fleet. For the first time a list of casualties was
included.
The third item contained within the high-speed bullet-pouch, was a
carefully edited audio-visual program intended for consumption by the
public and the press. This two-hour propaganda masterpiece consisted
of selected scenes from the confrontation, a supposed eyewitness
account of East German atrocities, and a visual 'letter' from a young
Texas pilot to his wife and baby son. Sitting on his bunk aboard the
Dreadnought, his handsome face, drawling voice and simple,
straightforward manner were an enchantment of rugged innocence and male
American charm.
*
"Donna, Jimmy. I just wanted to tell you that I love you and I miss
you, and I think of you every day. I also wanted you to know that I
believe in what we're fighting for way out here, and that someday I
hope to make you as proud of me, as I am proud to be a part of this
great cause.
"Because ya know, truth and freedom may sound like just words, to some
folks who don't appreciate what they have, or don't feel the emptiness
and suffering of those forced to live without them. But being out
here, and seeing what I've seen, you come to realize that not
everyone's as lucky as we are in America. You learn that there are
governments who so fear God's truth, that they'll subject their own
brothers to a police-state existence, just to insure that the Christian
message of freedom and hope is never heard.
"Now I'm not pretending to know everything there is to know about life
or politics, and it's a terrible tragedy to have to go to war just to
give back to people rights and dignities that never should have been
taken away from them. And I won't lie to you, Donna. Despite the
advantages God's given us, in weaponry and leadership, I may be hurt,
or even killed, before the fighting is over.
"But if that's so then I'll die proud, knowing that I served my country
as well as any man could, whether some faint-hearted politicians in
Washington stood behind me or not. And Jimmy, if something should
happen and you have to grow up without a papa, I can only hope that
someday, God willing, you'll have the same chance that I do now, to fly
and fight for the greatest nation in the galaxy, the United
Commonwealth of America.
"Well, I guess that's all for now. Give my love to Mama, and God
bless."
This bullet-pouch was not, however, the first word that Stone had heard
of the massacre. The day before he had received a tele-communication
from Soviet Premier Denisov, short and to the point.
"Mr. President. Is it war you want?"
At this point Stone motioned in his Vice-President, Jordan Plant, who
was standing by the door. The visual screens of both powers remained
blank.
"No, Premier Denisov. That's the last thing I want."
"Then why does your Secretary of State continue to murder in your name?
I am sure you have heard what happened in East German Cerberus?"
Stone turned a helpless look toward Plant, who first lifted his hands
(he didn't know), then moved closer and whispered in his ear:
"Whatever Hayes has done, now more than ever we have to tell him."
Stone took a deep breath.
"Secretary Hayes is no longer acting under my orders. And I did not
order the attack on Athena."
There was no pause on the part of Denisov. "Now you must tell me
something I do not already know. But I ask you plainly, Mr. Stone.
What do you plan to do about it?"
Plant quickly wrote a reply on his note-board and handed it to the
president, who read it with all the gravity he could muster.
"I have not yet given up hope that General Hayes can be peacefully
dissuaded from his present course. But be assured, one way or the
other, he will be brought to justice."
"And let me assure YOU, Mr. President, that our patience is at an end.
You have thirteen days to return me a better answer, or the Soviet
Space Republics will deal with the Third Fleet ourselves."
Stone paused, but the words were his own. "You know I can't let you do
that."
Whether these last words were heard or not, there was no reply. The
channel was closed. Luther Bacon, White House Chief-of-Staff, was then
brought in and apprised of the situation.
The next day, after receiving Hayes' bullet and trying (unsuccessfully)
to keep its contents from the press, the three held their council.
Bacon paced thoughtfully. Plant, seated, touched his fingertips
lightly together while Stone, disconsolate, felt the walls crumbling
around him. Half an hour before, despite all their efforts, he had
received a phone call from a member of the New York Press Corps
friendly to the administration, informing him that a duplicate pouch
had been received by its members, and that the news was spreading like
wildfire.
Finally the President exploded. "What are we going to DO? We have
less than two weeks to answer the Russians, and it will take nearly
that long to send and receive one more message from Hayes."
"Quite right," said Plant, the unspoken leader of the three. "Luther,
if you'll come with me to my office, we'll begin work on our reply to
General Hayes. I'm afraid it's time to take strong measures against
him."
"That son of a bitch!" fumed Stone, hurling a vase at the wall. "That
son of a BITCH."
"That won't help this time," said Bacon. "Believe me."
"Gentlemen," said Plant seriously. "I suggest we get to work. Try to
calm yourself, Edgar. We'll meet here again in an hour's time."
When the two men returned to the Oval Office with the drafted document,
they found Stone in an attitude of despair. He listened blankly as
Bacon read the finished product, signed it where and when he was asked.
"Just words," he said listlessly. "Like all the words I've been
spouting for twenty years, they don't mean a thing. Hayes does his
talking with a gun, and soon Denisov will do the same. What now,
Jordan? What of the Joint Chiefs---will they betray us, too?"
"I don't know," said Plant levelly. "But as to your first question,
I'd say we have to send our communication to the Secretary, then
prepare a full statement to the press. We've got to get this thing out
in the open. We've got to tell the truth, then let the people decide."
"Of course you're right." Stone paused, then said simply. "Should I
resign, Jordan? You're much more qualified to handle this---"
Plant stood up and waved his hands in desperate denial. For though his
life's whole ambition could there be suddenly realized, he saw in the
sharp clarity of his mind, heightened and given truer perspective by
the crisis which hung thick all around them, that it would be wrong,
and possibly disastrous, to assume the Presidency now. And though much
that was good in him lay fallen by the way, discarded and forgotten
among the endless compromises needed to keep him on the road to his one
desire, he too had a line he would not cross.
TOO MANY FAIRY TALES AS A CHILD, he told himself. But once made, his
decision was final. He could not sell all that he was, for any price.
"No, Edgar. Don't resign. The last thing we need now is added
instability. We may find ourselves in the midst of a Constitutional
crisis soon..... Don't you see?" He felt a strange passion rising
inside him. "It's not just you or I that are under attack, but the
whole system. The work of Jefferson and Adams, and so many others, is
receiving probably the toughest challenge it's ever faced. But it's
never cracked before, and believe me, there've been plenty of chances.
You," he said slowly, emphatically, "are the duly elected President of
the United Commonwealth. Hayes is no more than a crazed demagogue with
a gun. We've got to hold on to that. We've got to hold on....."
And then suddenly, incredulously, he laughed. And in that momentary
freeing of the heart, so long caged and disciplined toward a single
end, he felt a childish joy, and release so pure that warm tears
started at his eyes. Stone looked at him, bewildered.
"Don't you see it, Edgar? Don't you really? The only difference
between us is that you never let yourself play the hero in schoolyard
games, thinking you weren't good enough, or just being bitter about
your father, or some other damned thing. You're no worse than I am,
believe me." Slowly he mastered his mirth, though the feeling of
defiant freedom lingered. "We're neither one of us heroes, my friend;
but it seems we're all we've got. You need more illusions,
Edgar---they keep you longer from the void. Try on the mask of virtue
next. It may save our asses yet."
"But what about the Soviets? What can we possibly do in thirteen days?"
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
"Or find it washed out."
"Maybe. But for now we've got to deal with Hayes. 'Sufficient unto
the day is the evil thereof.'"