Produced by Frank van Drogen, Greg Weeks, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. SECURITY RISK BY ED M. CLINTON, JR. _Illustrated by Ed Emsh_ At moments like this, General David Walker always thought fleetingly of the good old days when he had hated the army. As usual, he smashed the thought out of his mind with a distinct sense of remorse. He looked up again at the seamed face of the Chief of Staff, General Marcus Meriwether. “This could be serious,” he said slowly, with a sick sense of the statement’s inadequacy. An old tic suddenly returned, tugging at the left corner of his mouth. The deadly, unsmiling expression on Meriwether’s face did not change as he slid more tightly into his chair. “You know as well as I that it means the Interplanetary Confederation is ready to go to war with us.” Walker stared at the typed statement on his desk. It was a decoded intelligence message from United Terra’s prime agent in the Interplanetary Confederation, and it was very brief: the Confederation had developed a long-range neural weapon effectively cancelling out every armament development achieved by United Terra in fifteen years of a cold war that of late had become bitter cold. The all-but-autonomous colonies of Mars and Venus, united now for twenty years in an economic league, had been itching for independence for a quarter of a century. The itch had developed into a mighty burning. “You are fully aware,” Meriwether continued, his face still set, “of our feeling that the Confederation has been eager to take on Terra. They’ve clearly been waiting for some positive advantage to offset our pure strength-in-numbers.” [Illustration: __It was a touchable touching an untouchable. Both scientist and general were doing their own version of right....__] Walker forced his eyes upward and stared at his superior. “Your tone says that such a war might be—” “Unwelcome at this time. Unwelcome at this time.” Meriwether shifted around in his chair, and scratched at its leather arms with the manicured tips of his gnarled fingers. “Walker, I don’t have to tell you that this weapon, if it is what our agent infers—and there is no reason to believe otherwise—that this weapon makes it impossible for us to go to war with the Confederation—unless, as Chief of Weapons Development, you can tell me that we have something in our arsenal to combat it.” Walker rubbed at the tic. “Nothing,” he said quietly.