The War in 2020

'Mr. President—'

'Don’t interrupt me, Colonel. I’m not finished. As I said: all of my advisers are opposed to your plan. It appears that there are only two people involved who are not yet ready to run up the white flag. By coincidence, Colonel, those two people are you and I.'

The room stiffened around Waters. But no one said a word.

'Colonel Taylor, I direct you to implement your plan as presented to me. I will take it upon myself to delay any unilateral actions by the Soviets for — how long will you need?'

'Thirty-six hours,' Taylor said hastily.

'For forty-eight hours, then. To give us a margin of error. The decision will be on record as mine alone. So be it. You see, Colonel, I can be thickheaded at times, but I believe I’ve finally figured out who the police dogs belong to this time around. And I am not yet ready to quit marching.'

Taylor opened his mouth to speak, but Daisy was quicker. She rose from her chair, taking a single step forward.

'You can’t,' she cried. 'You can't. They don t have a chance. Everybody knows they don’t have a chance.

You’re crazy.'

The room went as silent as the interior of a glacier. On the monitor, Taylor wavered slightly, as if trying to gain a better view against the laws of physics. Waters looked at the enraged woman.

'Thank you for your opinion, Miss Fitzgerald,' he said quietly. 'Please sit down now.'

Daisy sat down. Her forehead had broken out with sweat and her blouse hung limply about her. She drew back into her chair as if shrinking, and her eyes stared into a personal distance.

'I will repeat myself to ensure that everything is clear to all parties concerned,' Waters said. 'Colonel Taylor, you are directed to strike the enemy as foreseen by your plan. The responsibility for this decision rests with the President of the United States alone.' Waters looked up at the ruined face in the monitor. For a moment, he imagined that he saw a watery light in the warrior's eyes. But that was clearly an accident of lenses and technological effects.

'Yes, sir,' the distant voice responded.

Waters looked for the last time into the face of this man whom he knew he would never understand. They were as different as two men could be, and only a brief spasm of history had brought them together.

'And may God be with you,' Waters said.

22

3 November 2020

Kozlov came back in from the communications cell. He was smiling broadly, and the brown wreckage of his teeth gave his mouth the appearance of a derelict cave.

'General Ivanov has said that we will help you, he announced to the assembled members of the planning group, clearly very proud that he could make this contribution. 'Moscow has approved. Your president has spoken with them. The fuel will be provided.'

'Good,' Taylor said. He had just been working through the selection of the M-l00s in the most battleworthy condition, and he felt the loss of Martinez badly. Martinez would have known best about the status of the combat systems and how to handle the details of the fuel transfer. 'That's fine, Viktor. But how about the refueling site itself?'

'It is all right,' Kozlov said. 'We still hold a large pocket here' — he pointed to the map spread over the worktable—'to the east of the Volga estuary. It should meet the time-distance planning factors.'

The men bent over the map: Taylor and Kozlov, Meredith and Parker, who was functioning as the acting S-3, Tucker Williams — and Ryder, whose presence remained unsettling to Taylor. Meredith defined the area in question with a marker, under Kozlov's direction. Reflected off the map, the Russian's breath punished the American officers.

But it did not matter; Kozlov was so clearly anxious to help, to do his very best, that everyone was glad of his presence. He also appeared to be the only member of the group who had gotten any real sleep in days.

'I hate like hell to make a pit stop on the way in,' Taylor said. 'But putting down on the way out would be even worse. We've got a good shot at going in undetected But after we've hit them, they'll be looking for us with everything they've got. And our asses seem to stick out.

'The numbers work,' Hank Parker said, turning from his computer workstation. 'If we top off just to the east of Astrakhan, where Lieutenant Colonel Kozlov indicated, we should have adequate fuel to reach the target conduct the action at the objective, and still make it all the way back to the follow-on assembly area.'

'In the vicinity of Saratov,' Meredith picked up. 'In the old Volga German region.'

'Not much margin of error, though,' Tucker Williams said.

Taylor shrugged. 'This is strictly a low-budget operation.'

'This will be very good,' Kozlov said, still excited. He initially had seemed to have grave doubts as to whether or not' General Ivanov would be willing or able to help out, and the immediately forthcoming Soviet agreement to help apparently had surprised him more than anyone. 'The area where you will take on the fuel is not a developed one, and the enemy has contented himself with the bypassing of our forces in the estuary. There is very much open space here, to the east. It will be very good.'

'And General Ivanov is absolutely certain he can provide us with the fuel?' Taylor asked, still slightly skeptical of this very good luck. 'At that location? On time?

'Oh, yes,' Kozlov said brightly.

'Good. That certainly makes a difference.' He turned to Meredith. 'Lay that map of the Baku area back down, Merry. Let's go over that again with Viktor and see what he thinks.'

Meredith stretched another map across the table. After trying to squeeze in around an undersized computer screen, the planning group had returned to the use of old-fashioned tools, incidentally making the work much easier for Kozlov.

'Viktor,' Taylor said, 'we've looked over the terrain, and the overhead shots and the map make it look like the best approach is to come in low from the north, using the peninsula to shield us. What do you think?'

Kozlov appeared doubtful. 'Yes, I think you can do that, should you wish. But perhaps another way is better. You see, there are radar sites hidden on the ridge of the peninsula. But have you thought to come in from the east? Over the water? You see, there are many oil towers — what is the English word?'

'Derricks?' Meredith asked.

'Yes. The derricks. They are of metals. You would have natural radar shielding effects. I know, because our radars were always blind in this sector.'

'Fuck me,' Colonel Williams said. He had been munching on a packet of dehydrated pears from the field rations. 'You still can't beat firsthand knowledge of your area of operations.'

'You see, this is very good,' Kozlov continued. 'There are many landmarks for the eye as well as for the computer. And to come in such a way over the city, there are no air defenses.' He traced over the corner of the map where an outsize city plan had been inserted. 'You see? Over here is the tower of television. But you will come from here. There will be the high building of the Moscow Hotel and there is Kirov Park. From there it is easy.'

'That'll take us right in over the mob scene,' Colonel Williams said. 'If the buggers are still out there.'

'I think they will not have air defense weapons,' Kozlov said.

'Check,' Taylor said. 'Okay, Viktor. Are there any obstructions on this parade ground or whatever it is in front of the headquarters? Anything the imagery might not clearly indicate?'

'No. Unless there would be trucks that day. It is very flat. I remember clearly. In the spring, the water would not drain properly. It was terrible for the shoes.'

'Okay. You've seen the M-l00s. How many birds can we put down in there? In your view?'

'I think only six. Perhaps seven.'

'Great. That's more space than we need. We ran the mensuration from the available imagery, but it's good