“I believe this may be our last chance. If we do not aid the Americans now, then the Americans will be defeated, and how long will it be before Russia falls to the aliens?”
“Your recommendation?”
This is recorded. Not only the Chairman. The KGB will listen. If we fail — “Comrade Chairman, I recommend that we aid the Americans, provided that they use their Pershing missiles, all of their Pershing missiles, in both England and Germany, to assist our penetration.”
“You agree, Marshal Shavyrin?”
“Da, with those conditions, Comrade Chainnan.”
There was a long silence. Then the Chairman said, “Very well. I will inform the American President, and we will soon tell you the time for this attack.” There was another pause, then the Chairman’s voice came on again. “Academician and General of the Army Pavel Aleksandrovich Bondarev, and Marshal Leonid Edmundovich Shavyrin, I instruct you to take command of all strategic forces of the Soviet Union, including the submarine forces, and to employ them in aid of the battle plan code-named WHIRLWIND. If you jointly agree, you are authorized to use all of the forces in your command in aid of the American effort to drive the aliens from the planet. Is this understood?”
“Da, Comrade Chairman,” Shavyrin said.
Pavel Bondarev gulped hard. “Da.”
The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
Pavel Bondarev looked up at the big clock on his wall. “Ten minutes,” he said.
Marshal Shavyrin grinned. “Da. You are nervous, Comrade!”
“Of course,” Bondarev said with irritation. “We are about to make the most important decision in Russian history. Should I not be nervous?”
“Certainly, but you will permit that I do not openly join you? I have known for five years that I might be faced with this moment.”
“True,” Bondarev said. He looked at the twin electronics consoles installed against one wall of his underground office. Lights winked in complex patterns. In the lower right corner of each console was a switch. Bondarev patted his throat, to feel the key on its silver chain. “Does it make it easier?”
“The peasants say you can become accustomed to anything, even hanging, if you hang long enough-what was that?”
There were sharp sounds from outside. Bondarev went to the door.
“No! Do not open that door!” Shavyrin commanded. He lifted his telephone. “Colonel! What is the situation?” He listened for a few moments. “They must not enter,” he snapped: “The cost does not matter. Our orders come from Chairman Petrovskiy himself! Do what you can. What you must,” he said. He put down the phone.
Bondarev looked the question at him.
“KGB,” Shavyrin said. “They have sent soldiers as well as their agents. My security forces are resisting them.”
“But—” Pavel lifted the telephone. “Get me Chairman Petrovshy—”
Shavyrin shook his head. “Colonel Polivanov has already reported that the KGB has cut the telephone lines. We no longer have communications with Moscow.”
Bondamv looked up in horror. “But—”
Before he could speak, the door opened. Lorena came in.
“What are you doing here?” Bondarev demanded.
She hesitated for a moment, then showed what was in her hand. She held a small automatic pistol. “You are both under arrest, in the name of State Security,” she said.
“No!” Bdndarev shouted. “Not you!”
“The KGB is everywhere,” Shavyrin said. He reached for the telephone—
“Stop that!” Lorena shouted. Hysteria tinged her voice.
“Comrade, I must speak to the rocket forces,” Shavyrin said.
“To order them to aid the Americans,” she said. “Never! The aliens will destroy the Soviet Union—”
“Then they will do it anyway,” Shavyrin said. “Understand this. The Americans are to launch” — he glanced at the clock on the wall — “even now are launching their Pershing missiles. Those missiles will come toward us. They are supposed to provide a diversion to allow our missiles to penetrate, but there is always the chance that the Americans will use this as an opportunity to attack us. With that in mind I have given orders that if the rocket forces do not hear from us, they will attack the United States. Not attack Kansas, but all of the United States!”
“I know nothing of this,” she shouted. “You will move there, to that wall, away from the desk, away from the telephones!”
“Lorena,” Bondarev said. “Lorena, you cannot do this.” He moved toward her. She backed away.
“Stop! I will shoot! I will!”
Bondarev advanced.
The little gun spat at him. He felt a sharp pain in his chest. “Lorena!” he shouted. He swayed against the wall.
She looked in horror. “Pavel, Pavel—”
As she spoke, Marshal Shavyrin moved. He lifted the brass telescope from Bondarev’s desk and swung it, bringing it down on Lorena’s head, striking so hard that the telescope bent over her head and a lens fell onto the floor.
She collapsed instantly. Shavyrin dropped the telescope and moved to close the door. Then he hurried to Bondarev. “Comrade,” he said. “Pavel—”
