Directly in front of the president, through the glass wall, holographic displays hovered ghostlike in the middle of the darkened chamber. Beneath them sat controllers and military personnel at hooded consoles, while officers stood in the shadowy background in small groups.
Along the table to the president's left, General Beaver, one of the three Joint Chiefs present, said, "Satellite photoreconnaissance confirms the intelligence picture, sir. Taken together, I should say we have a good probability rating, in the high seventies."
"That still leaves a better than twenty percent shortfall, General."
"With all respect, sir, it can only be conclusive when the Soviets actually implement the scheme," General Stafford pointed out.
August, 9, 1999. The president's famous vote-winning smile was absent today at this meeting ninety feet underground in the concrete, steel and lead-lined installation known as the Prime Situation Center. Connected to the White House by a two-mile tunnel that ran under the Potomac River, the PSC was located directly beneath Arlington National Cemetery. Another tunnel, also with an electric rail shuttle, linked it to the Pentagon, a mile to the east.
General Smith, the army chief, voiced the opinion that they were in danger of losing credibility. "If somebody's going to act, it ought to be us," he argued. "Our countermeasures are more than adequate and at operational status. Isn't that so, Colonel Madden?"
Madden nodded, and for the benefit of the tape added, "That's correct, General."
"Christ, George, this isn't the old nuclear scenario of a preemptive strike," said General Stafford. "Nobody comes out of this one looking good and smelling sweet. We all go down the goddam drain together!"
"Not necessarily all," said Ralf Zadikov, seated on the president's left. The secretary of defense was a gaunt figure, pointed chin resting on clasped scarecrow hands,
General Stafford's lips tightened. Along the table several people shuffled papers and avoided one another's eyes. It was bad form to admit, or even mention, the existence of the sealed oxygen-enriched enclosures reserved for high-ranking politicians and military personnel. This was another key element in the ASP master plan, thoughtfully provided by Madden and designed and built by JEG Construction.
To cover this lapse General Beaver said hurriedly, "Can we see our deployment pattern on display, Colonel Madden?"
As soon as Madden gave the order over the desk mike a brightly colored azimuthal projection of the globe shimmered in the black air behind the glass. Missile sites were red; tankers in black against the blue ocean. Nine of the missiles and four of the tankers had the Greek letter |3, for beta, in silver in the center of each symbol.
There was silence while everyone contemplated the pleasing design. Then General Smith said, "What's our present state of readiness, Colonel?"
"Three hundred ninety-five missiles payloaded with Bloomingdale's targeted on key areas of jungle and rain forest on all continents outside North America. We have thirty-eight tankers of two hundred thousand to two hundred and fifty thousand tons capacity of Macy's constantly on the move in all major oceans. By the end of this year we will have fifty-two tankers. The missiles and tankers designated beta contain a new bacteriological herbicide that is much more powerful and effective than conventional chemical compounds. We're proceeding as fast as possible to make the conversion to all our missiles and tanker fleet."
"Will this be enough to give us herbicidal overkill?" General Smith asked.
"Yes, sir." Madden used the electronic indicator, a glowing white dot. "As you'll have noted, the tankers are grouped in convoys and not scattered at random. These areas"--the white dot danced about--"the equatorial Pacific, the North Atlantic, the Southern Ocean around Antarctica, and parts of the Indian Ocean near the Madagascar Basin are richest in phytoplankton and therefore contribute most of the global oxygen yield. We estimate that with our present fleet we can eliminate up to eighty-five percent of marine plant life."
"Then why upgrade the fleet at all if we already have that capability?" General Stafford wanted to know. As air force chief of staff he could see the need to deploy more missiles, but who the hell wanted more tankers? The defense budget was tight enough without wasteful and unnecessary expenditure.
Madden read the general's mind and had his answer ready. "The time factor, sir. With more tankers we can speed up the process."
"Why not more missiles and speed it up even more?"
"Because the forest and jungle targets are less important, General. They contribute only about thirty percent of the oxygen in the atmosphere; the oceans are the major supplier."
General Smith seemed mesmerized by the display floating in the darkened chamber. "How long will it take?" he asked in a faraway voice.
