Cold War -- Fiction; Robots -- Fiction; Science fiction; Short stories; Weapons -- Fiction
Laszlo looked impressed despite himself and Lynn smiled grimly. It was
easy to resent Breckenridge and the coming intrusion of several hundred
scientists of non-robotics specialties, but the problem itself was an
intriguing one. There was that consolation, at least.
* * * * *
It came to him quietly.
Lynn found he had nothing to do but sit in his office alone, with an
executive position that had grown merely titular. Perhaps that helped.
It gave him time to think, to picture the creative scientists of half
the world converging on Cheyenne.
It was Breckenridge who, with cool efficiency, was handling the details
of preparation. There had been a kind of confidence in the way he said,
"Let's get together and we'll lick Them."
Let's get together.
It came to Lynn so quietly that anyone watching Lynn at that moment
might have seen his eyes blink slowly twice--but surely nothing more.
He did what he had to do with a whirling detachment that kept him calm
when he felt that, by all rights, he ought to be going mad.
He sought out Breckenridge in the other's improvised quarters.
Breckenridge was alone and frowning. "Is anything wrong, sir?"
Lynn said, wearily, "Everything's right, I think. I've invoked martial
law."
"What!"
"As chief of a division I can do so if I am of the opinion the
situation warrants it. Over my division, I can then be dictator. Chalk
up one for the beauties of decentralization."
"You will rescind that order immediately." Breckenridge took a step
forward. "When Washington hears this, you will be ruined."
"I'm ruined anyway. Do you think I don't realize that I've been set up
for the role of the greatest villain in American history: the man who
let Them break the stalemate. I have nothing to lose--and perhaps a
great deal to gain."
He laughed a little wildly, "What a target the Division of Robotics
will be, eh, Breckenridge? Only a few thousand men to be killed by
a TC bomb capable of wiping out three hundred square miles in one
micro-second. But five hundred of those men would be our greatest
scientists. We would be in the peculiar position of having to fight a
war with our brains shot out, or surrendering. I think we'd surrender."
"But this is impossible. Lynn, do you hear me? Do you understand? How
could the humanoids pass our security provisions? How could they get
together?"
"But they _are_ getting together! We're helping them to do so.
We're ordering them to do so. Our scientists visit the other side,
Breckenridge. They visit Them regularly. You made a point of how
strange it was that no one in robotics did. Well, ten of those
scientists are still there and in their place, ten humanoids are
converging on Cheyenne."
"That's a ridiculous guess."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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