Defense said, "It's all part of a pattern. They're getting tough in Antarctica. They're building up their troop concen- trations in Syria. Intelligence reports show that they intend to replace their present commander at Lunagrad, a coexistence type, with a hard-line full general straight out of the Kremlin. They're up to something big." 333
Wordlessly the President scribbled his signature on the top page of the sheaf of papers.
"Thank you, Mr. President." Defense snatched the sheaf of papers from his desk and strode quickly out of the office.
In the anteroom outside, the burly angry-faced man paced across the plush carpeting. He walked with a slight limp, as if his feet were not meant to be in the shoes he was forced to wear.
He glared up at the Defense Secretary. "He signed?"
The harsh tortured whisper made Defense want to shudder. "Yes," he replied. "Of course."
"He realizes that the plan includes preparations for an attack on the Soviet space stations?"
Defense shook his head. "That did not come up in our conversation."
The angry one almost smiled. "So be it. We can explain the value of a preemptive strike to him later. Gradually. If time permits."
The meeting of the State Security Committee had been long and bitter and sometimes loud. The Kremlin had often rung with the shouts of angry men, and many times such rancor had led to violence.
General Secretary Bereznik was determined to restore harmony.
"Comrades!" he called sharply, slapping a heavy palm on the table before him. They all jerked their attention to him, dropping their hot arguments for the moment.
"Comrades, we should be directing our energies to the solution of this problem. Wrangling will produce no positive results."
"Firing on our scientific expedition is an inexcusable provocation!" Marshal Prokoff shouted.
"But we killed one of their men," said the Foreign Minister, his puffy face florid with passion. "There was shooting on both sides."
"They are increasing their orbital missions," repeated the Intelligence Minister. "More satellites and more attacks on our satellites."
The General Secretary glared in helpless frustration. 334
Sometimes he wished he had Khrushchev's boldness: it was canny old Nikita who had often carried a pistol to these meetings.
"My father gave his life for the Soviet Union at Stalin- grad," Prokoff was saying heatedly, "and I will not allow any foreign transgressor to destroy what he fought to preserve."
"But what of the Chinese?" someone asked, his voice quavering from the general din around the table- "What are they going to do?"
