David Robbins - Cincinnati Run

“General Malenkov himself will undoubtedly want to be the one who fires the laser at your Home. The eradication of the Family is a pet project of his, you know,” General Stoljarov said.

Geronimo scarcely paid attention, his mind racing with the implications of the Butcher’s revelations. This meant that the Home would never be safe. Even if the Warriors succeeded in demolishing Lenin’s Needle, there was no guarantee someone else at sometime in the future wouldn’t develop another scheme, wouldn’t construct another deadly device. His wife and son, his beloved Cynthia and Cochise, would never truly be safe.

“Do you know what a satellite is?” General Stoljarov inquired.

“What?” Geronimo responded absently.

“A satellite. A man-made device launched into orbit around the earth.

The U.S. and the U.S.S.R. were sending satellites into orbit constantly before the war, and many of those satellites were used exclusively by the military establishments in both countries. Two years ago we discovered one of the Soviet war satellites was still in orbit, and we now use that satellite in our laser-guidance system. Lenin’s Needle is actually an enormous laser, and the laser light is generated and amplified here. We direct the beam at our satellite, and the satellite, which was once incorporated into the Soviet anti-satellite laser network, deflects the beam to any spot we select. In conjunction with our computer and our E.R.T.E., our Extended Radar Tracking Equipment, we can hit any target within fifteen hundred miles of Cincinnati.”

“I had no idea the Russians were such cowards,” Geronimo stated.

“You dare call us cowards?”

“You would rather destroy us from afar than take us on face-to-face,” Geronimo noted.

“Spare me your juvenile morality. We have developed a flawless system of laser warfare, and we would be fools not to employ our laser against our enemies. Our method is not based on cowardice, but expediency. Rather than suffer through a sustained conflict with the Federation and our other enemies, we will defeat them in a tenth of the time conventional forces would require. Eventually, once we’ve extended the laser’s range, we’ll subjugate the world.”

“I’m getting tired of listening to your bragging,” Geronimo mentioned.

“You won’t need to listen to me much longer,” General Stoljarov said.

“We’ve arrived.”

The elevator slowed to a stop and the door widened, revealing a huge chamber containing sophisticated electronic equipment; consoles, monitors, banks, and sundry cabinets crammed the room. A dozen or more technicians, all wearing red smocks, were seated at various chairs.

Sitting at a large control console five yards from the elevator was a short, skinny man with a bald head and wire-rimmed glasses. He turned as the elevator arrived and nodded at the Butcher.

“General Stoljarov. Are you aware the security alarm has been activated?”

“Yes, Comrade Grineva. I was the one who activated it,” the general said, advancing to the console.

The guards nudged Geronimo with their AK-47’s, prodding him forward.

“I took the liberty of shutting off the speakers in the Control Room. We could not concentrate with so much noise.”

“How is the work proceeding?” General Stoljarov asked.

“We are making headway. I expect to be ready for the land-target test within twenty-four hours,” Grineva replied, and squinted at the Warrior.

“Who is this?”

“His name is Geronimo.”

“Why have you brought him here?”

“I’ll explain in a moment,” Stoljarov said, and moved to a telephone on the left side of the console. He scooped up the receiver and pressed the number nine. “Colonel Zaitsev, this is General Stoljarov. Yes, I know. I did.

Two of my men are guarding the north exit, and the south exit should have been locked after the day shift departed. There is an intruder in the Needle, the Warrior known as Blade. What? You have? And all the floors are being swept? Excellent. I’m in the Control Room. Notify me the moment you have him in custody.” He hung up and glanced at his prisoner, smiling. “Our security people plan to set a trap for Blade on the tenth floor.”

“Are you sure it’s not the other way around?” Geronimo quipped.

Stoljarov straightened and looked at Grineva. “Is the Booth available?”

Leonid Grineva did a double take. “The Booth? Yes, but why would…”

he began, and stared at Geronimo. “No!”

“Yes,” General Stoljarov said.

“But the Booth is meant to be used for research,” Grineva protested.

“It’s where I work on my theories and try to solve problems.”

“I am in charge of this facility, am I not?” Stoljarov queried.

“Yes, but—”

“Then I can utilize the Booth as I see fit,” the Butcher declared, and snapped his fingers at the guards.

“To the right,” one of the soldiers directed Geronimo.

“This is most improper,” Grineva commented.

Geronimo walked to the right, past a wide cabinet, and spotted a door in the far corner of the room. A barrel poked him in the small of the back, and he strolled nonchalantly to the door, determined to deprive the Butcher of the satisfaction of seeing him betray any fear.

General Stoljarov stepped past the Warrior, opened the door, and switched on an overhead light. Within the room was a metal table five feet in length. On the opposite end of the table rested a strange rectangular device hooked to a six-foot-high bank of apparatuses displaying a score of dials, knobs, and switches. The top and sides of the rectangular device were gray, and the right side sported four dials and a switch. Aligned toward the end of the table nearest the door was the front of the device, a black panel with a circular hole in the center.

“This model is one of Grineva’s early experimental versions,” General Stoljarov disclosed, moving to the rectangular device and patting its top.

“To him it’s a tool to be used to further his knowledge. To me it’s a toy to be used for my pleasure.” He reached under the table and produced a ten-inch length of steel plate. “Take this,” he ordered the taller of the two guards.

The soldier obeyed promptly.

“Hold the plate at the end of the table,” Stoljarov instructed. “Make certain the plate is in line with the hole.”

Geronimo and the second trooper stepped to the left as the tall soldier came around the table and held the steel plate away from his body, his fingers at the very edge.

“This is not a very powerful model,” Stoljarov said. “But it will suffice.

Now watch. I’ve seen Grineva do this many times, and he even gave me a lesson once.” He flicked the switch and rotated the uppermost dial, and the rectangular device began to hum loudly. A pinpoint of light became visible in the hole in the black panel.

The tall soldier gazed anxiously at the laser, apparently nervous about the fate of his fingers.

“Here goes,” Stoljarov declared, and turned the second dial.

A pencil-thin beam of red light shot from the hole and struck the steel plate in the middle. The tall soldier flinched but kept the plate steady.

Wisps of smoke spiraled upward and a crackling and sizzling arose.

Sparks flew. An acrid scent filled the room.

General Stoljarov unexpectedly turned the laser off. “That’s enough of a demonstration.”

The tall soldier breathed an audible sigh of relief and lowered the plate to the table.

“Comrade Grineva made a major breakthrough in the generation of the beam,” the general said. “We can widen the laser light to encompass the target, whether the target is the size of a 747 or a car. We can’t enlarge it enough to incinerate the Home with one blast, but ten or twelve computer-directed blasts should do the trick.”