shroud, and I am maintaining evasive maneuvers.
All right, Libby, thank you. Edna glanced at John. Situation clear? You agree how we should respond? She didnt need his approval. She was the military officer in command. But she felt she couldnt proceed without his acceptance.
At last he nodded.
Prepare a torpedo. Low-yield fission strike. She pulled up a graphic of Port Lowell. She tapped a green dome. Lets take out the farm. Well do the least damage that way.
You mean, well kill the least people? John laughed hollowly. Look, Edna, its not just a farm dome. Theyre running experimental programs in there. Hybrids of Martian and terrestrial life. If you blow it up
Lock and load, John, she said firmly, pushing down her own doubts. The launch of the torpedo was a violent, physical event. The ship rang like a bell.
In Mount Weather the images of the Liberators attack were shocking, a holographic globe of Mars with a gunshot wound.
I cant believe this has happened on my watch, Bella said.
Bob Paxton grunted. Welcome to my world, Madam Chair.
Cassie Duflot sat beside Bella. This is why my husband died. So we have the capability to do this, if need be.
But I hoped the need would never arise. Bella suppressed a shudder. I'm here because people thought I was a hero from the sunstorm days. Now I'm nuking my fellow human beings.
Paxton was studying a montage of images on a softwall. Its all over the media. Well, you got to expect that. If you nuke Mars even the couch potatoes and thumbheads are gonna take notice. No casualty reports so far. And anyhow they shot first.
I cant believe youre taking it as coldly as this, Bob, Bella said with a trace of anger. You were the first human to walk on Mars. And now, in a generation, its come to war, at the very site of your landing.
Its as if Neil Armstrong was asked to command the invasion of the Sea of Tranquillity. How does that make you feel?
He shrugged. He wore his military jacket unbuttoned, his tie loosened, and he held a plastic soda can in his bearlike fist. I feel we didnt start this. I feel those saps on Mars should have done what their legally authorized governmental representatives ordered them to do, and hand over this screwball Dutt. And I feel that, like the lady says, theres no point spending terabucks and a dozen lives developing a facility like the Liberator if you aint gonna use it. Anyhow its your daughter who dropped the nuke.
But it had to be Edna. Bella probably could have found some way to spare her daughter this duty; there were relief crews for Liberator. But she needed somebody she could trustsomebody she could rely on not to drop the bomb if Bella ordered her to withdraw.
So whats the reaction?
Paxton tapped a screen at his elbow, and images flickered across the wall, of emptied-out food stores, deserted roads, towns as still as cemeteries. Nothings changed. The alarm has been building up for weeks, ever since the cannonball failed. Everybodys hunkered down, waiting. So far the numbers after that nuke on Mars are holding up.
Cassie asked, What numbers?
Bella said, He means the snap polls.
Paxton said, The negatives counter the positives, the war lobby versus the peaceniks, the usual knee-jerk stuff. And theres a big fat dont-know lobby in the middle. He turned. People are waiting to see what happens next, Bella.
A backlash might yet come, Bella thought. If this dreadful gamble didnt work her authority would be smashed, and somebody else would have to shepherd Earth through the final days as the Q-bomb sailed home. And that, she helplessly thought, would be a tremendous relief. But she could not put down her burden yet, not yet.
Bob Paxton said, Message coming in from Mars. Not that Umfraville kid whos been the spokesman. Somebody else talking to Liberator. Unauthorized probably. He grinned. Somebody cracked.
So where is Dutt? North pole of Mars. Tell Liberator to move.
Andoh, shit. His softscreen filled with scrolling images, this time scenes of Earth. Theyre hitting back. Spacer bastards. Theyre attacking our space elevators! Paxton looked at her. So its war, Madam Chair. Does that ease your conscience?
A live image of Mars hovered over the Wells crew table. The atomic wound inflicted by the Liberator burned intensely at the equator, and now a miniature mushroom cloud rose high into the thin Martian air. A lot of dreams had already died today, Myra thought fancifully.
And directly over the pole