Joe Haldeman - The Coming

“God willing,” Deedee said.

“Amen.” The meeting a month ago with Reverend Kale had been harrowing. You were either with him or against him, and he had come to the meeting knowing that it would be a confrontation with his strongest enemies.

He tried to turn it into a ground-shaking media event, but fortunately, the press was tired of dealing with him. So it was a lot of sound and fury and no airtime.

There was a soft gong and the president came to life, a few inches higher, her hair unchanged but her blouse lavender instead of teal. Governor Tierny and Grayson Pauling appeared at the same moment. The governor had a green suit with a red tie, Christmas coming. The science adviser always wore gray. This morning, his skin seemed a little gray.

“Good morning,” the president said, as if she meant it. A smile that revealed just a trace of her perfect teeth. “Let’s get right down to business.” She reached outside of the holo field and someone handed her a leather folder.

Rory had expected the Oval Office, but this was some other room, oil paintings of the presidents looking down from windowless walls.

“This is top secret. You may not discuss it with the media. A few days ago, the secretary of defense asked me to convene a secret cabinet meeting.”

“Oh, no,” Rory said, at the edge of audibility. Pauling looked up at her, but the president didn’t seem to notice.

“…about our preparedness for what amounts to an alien invasion. Clearly, we are not prepared, he admitted, but just as clearly, we can be.”

She looked around the room as if daring anyone to speak. “We reviewed your testimony on this, and the corroborating testimony of the National Science Foundation and the American Association for Science—”

“The Advancement of Science,” Pauling corrected.

“Thank you, Grayson. Simply put, we felt that you were well meaning but wrong. This is actually a political issue, not a scientific one. I mean, we wouldn’t know about the danger without you scientists, true. But it is a political problem with a political solution.”

“Which is to say military,” Deedee said. “Ms. President.”

“Strategic. There’s a time-honored distinction.”

“Strategic, until you push the button,” Pauling said. “Then it’s military.”

“And the reason for strategic preparedness is to prevent war.”

“Ms. President,” Rory said, “what are you going to use to scare these space aliens with? Nuclear weapons?”

“Better than that.” She pulled a diagram from the folder. “Though it uses a nuclear weapon for fuel.”

The diagram was just a polar view of the earth, with a dotted orbit surrounding it, about four thousand miles up. There were three equidistant X s on the orbit.

“Each of these three shuttles has a one-shot maser, microwave laser, generator. It turns the power of a hydrogen bomb into a single blast of energy powerful enough to vaporize anything. At any given time, two of the three will cover any approach to Earth.”

“Boy, I hope they don’t have four ships,” Rory said.

“What?”

“Ms. President, if you were going to invade another planet, would you send just one ship?”

“Well… I’m sure we can put any number of these things in orbit…”

“ On orbit,” Pauling said. “And there are only three. Two of them aren’t even—”

“You’re always saying that, Grayson. As if you could be on an orbit the way you’re on the street. I suppose we should make more.”

“You can’t,” he said. “Even if it were legal—and it’s not; they would be in violation of international law—you can’t build these things in a month, no matter how much money you throw at the contractors.”

“I think there may be more someplace,” she said expressionlessly.

“I don’t suppose they ever pass over France or Germany,” the chancellor said.

“Several times a day,” Pauling said.

“But that’s immaterial,” the president said. “These point up, not down. And we’ve worked out the international aspects. The UN Security Council will be part of the decision-making process.”

“They point whichever way we want them to,” Pauling said. “And the UN’s big red button doesn’t have to be connected to anything.”

The president sighed. “You’ve always been such a good team player, Grayson. Until this thing came up.”

Pauling faced the others. “I was the only cabinet member not in favor of this scheme. But then I’m the only one who knows an electron from his asteroid.”

“As I said, it’s no longer a scientific problem. The science has been solved. But we still have our people to protect.” She was trying to look presidential but was obviously pissed at Pauling. He had probably said he was going to behave.

“Have they been orbited yet?” Rory said, avoiding the in-orbit/on-orbit controversy.

“No, Dr. Bell, they’re undergoing checks. They’ll go up next week.”

“No matter what our advice is,” Deedee said.

The governor cleared his throat and spoke for the first time. “Dean Whittier, with all due respect, the president and her cabinet have considered the scientific aspects of this along with all others—”

“And come up with the wrong decision!” Rory snapped. “This is like children setting up a practical joke to surprise Mommy when she comes through the door. She is not going to be amused.”

“I have been assured that there is no conceivable defense against these weapons.”

“Oh, please. The Praetorian Guard was invincible in its time, but one soldier with a nineteenth-century machine gun would destroy them in seconds.”

The president stared for a moment, perhaps listening to someone offstage explaining what the Praetorian Guard was. “Science is on my side here, Professor. This energy beam goes at the speed of light. Do you know of any way to detect it and get out of its way?”

“No, but neither do I have a spaceship that can go the speed of light. If I did, I’d probably have something to protect myself against twenty-first-century weapons.”

“Exactly my point last night,” Pauling said. “The only thing we know about these creatures is that their science is beyond our comprehension.”

“You may be committing suicide for the whole human race,” Rory said. “Or murdering the human race out of ignorance and hubris.”

“This is not just a bad idea,” Deedee said. “This is the worst idea in history.”

The president’s famous temper finally boiled over. “Then history will judge me! Not a roomful of professors!” She disappeared, along with Pauling. The governor faded out with a fixed smile pasted on his face.

It was just the three of them, spaced around a plain round table.

Rory sipped cold coffee. “I think she has a thing about professors.”

“Professors tend to have a thing about her,” the chancellor said.

“We don’t have to keep this secret,” Deedee said. “We ought to get the word out before the administration does.”

Mal shook his head. “She said it was top secret.”

“I don’t have any clearance,” she said. “Do you?”

“I can probably get Marya Washington,” Rory said. “She’s not exactly pro-administration.” She took a phone out of her purse and punched two numbers. She nodded at a robot voice. “Tell Marya that Rory Bell, down in Florida, has to talk to her immediately. Big scoop.” She pushed the “off button. “Big scoop of something.”

“I need a real cup of coffee,” Deedee said. “Go by Sara’s on the way back?”

Mal checked his watch. “You two go. I still have time to show up at a budget hearing and surprise some people.” He smiled and the smile faded. “Let me know if you need any help, Rory. With the cube people or Her Nibs.”