The Sling And The Stone By Michael Shaara Russian scientists knew that open warfare with America was hazardous. Yet, ironically, a victory could be gained--via the Hand of God! [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy March 1954 Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] _On the morning of the first day, floating in the cold of space, they inflated the station. It puffed up tightly to a silvery doughnut, and four men whose names were Krylov, Mirkov, Stolyakhin and Davchenko went to live inside. There was no ceremony. Out of a motionless rocket which hung in space nearby, other men came, trailing long wires. All the long black afternoon of that day these men clustered on the skin of the doughnut, fixing curved weightless slabs of carbon-coated aluminum to the sides. And within the station, where there was air and therefore a blessed noise, the four men worked with fluttery movements, attaching wires and steel ribs, adjusting, connecting. After a while there was nothing more to do. The rocket pulled in its lines, gathered up its men. When they were all inside it turned over slightly and spat a silent flame, and began to fall, and fell, and was gone._ _That was the first day._ _The second day was filled with work, and watching, and a great awe._ _The third day began to be lonely._ _On the fourth day they had a visitor...._ * * * * * The mindless insanity, so carefully by-passed for so many years, reached out at last and drew him in. Diavilev awoke. The room was very cold, Pyotr Diavilev struggled into his clothes, not sleepy at all, while the army man stood silently at the foot of the bed. Outside the door, stolid and heavy-footed in the darkness, there were other army men, creaking the floorboards and chuckling. And so it comes, Diavilev thought. There was nothing at all to say or do. He hitched his belt tightly and breathed for what seemed like the first time, and then he nodded to the army man. He was taken away. He sat in the dark, in the plush rear seat of a huge car being driven at great speed through the city. He was surprised; he had expected them to be more brutal. But they were never, ever, what you expected. In the darkness he strove to compose himself. The army man asked him for a cigarette. When he struck the match Diavilev realized that he had forgotten his glasses. "My glasses," he said humbly, "please, I have forgotten my glasses." The army man surprisingly, seemed concerned. Then he said: "Never mind. We will get them." He leaned forward and spoke into a radio. There was a brief reply which Diavilev could not hear and the army man sat back comfortably, satisfied. "Your glasses will be there," he said.