It took a charismatic leader to bring the Arabs together again, and he focused his leadership on the obvious goal: the destruction of Israel. With relish, the Moslem world forgot its differences and invaded the Jewish homeland for the final time. No ally came to Israel's aid, not with the Soviets threatening nuclear war over the hotline to Washington. The American government, led by a born-again former school- teacher, warned Israel against using its nuclear weapons against its invaders. To their credit, the victorious Arabs did not engage in a bloodbath. Israel simply ceased to exist, although its inhabitants continued to live in the newly consti- tuted nation of Palestine. Only the leaders of the Israeli government and about a third of the Knesset were executed. In America the government that failed to help its ally won re-election on the strength of having avoided a nuclear holocaust.
Rationing and recriminations were the order of the day in every Western capital. Travel curtailments and restrictions 48 on electricity became commonplace, and were used by gov- ernments to keep their people under control and make dissent, if not impossible, then at least more difficult than in the earlier days of easy travel and free speech.
The Greeks called for the total dissolution of NATO. The Turks made obvious moves to seize Cyprus. A new series of convulsions racked Lebanon, with Syrian-backed Shi'ites slaughtering Christians by the thousands and Syria itself —long a Soviet client—gaining new power from the Russian victory in Iran and the destruction of Israel but suffering such loss of prestige among its fellow Moslems that the assassina- tion of Syria's president came as no surprise.
Flying out of Cyprus, the handful of Air Force fighter pianes was a pitifully weak gesture, more of a public relations ploy than a military move. America was tacitly admitting that the Soviet conquest of Iran and the end of Israel were fails accomplis. Flying out of Damascus, a squadron of Soviet MiG-31's symbolized Russian determination to show Ameri- ca and the world that the Middle East was their sphere of influence now, rather than the West's.
In his half-sleep. Kinsman recalled all the feints and mock-dogfights he had gone through. It would have taken only the press of a button to destroy one of the Russian fighters. More than once somebody fired a burst of cannon fire into the empty air. More than once a missile "happened" to whoosh out of its underwing rack and trace a smoky arrow of death that came close to one of those beautiful swept-wing planes.
Each time Kinsman waxed the tail of a Russian and lined up the vainly maneuvering MiG in his gunsights he heard his father's stern voice: "Once you put on their uniform, you will do as they order you to do. If they say kill, you will kill."
No, Kinsman said to himself. There are limits. I can hold out against them.
They had not ordered him to kill. The squadron's orders were to defend themselves if attacked, and even then, only after receiving a confirming go-ahead order from ground command. Kinsman had never pressed the firing button on his controls, no matter how many times he centered a MiG in his gunsights.
He was overjoyed when his application for astronaut 49 training was finally approved. It was as if he had been holding his breath for four years.
Even grimy old Philadelphia looked good to him, after the months in Cyprus. He had dinner with Neal McGrath and his wife, Mary-Ellen, in an Indian restaurant on Chestnut Street, within sight of Independence Hall and the cracked old Liberty Bell. Neal, a Congressman now, informed him that Diane Lawrence had her first million-selling record to her credit and was fast becoming one of the nation's favorite folk-rock singers.
And Kinsman's father—sick, old, his home on the Main Line turned into a private hospital-cum-office—refused to see him as long as he wore an Air Force uniform.
When he finally peeled out of the nylon mesh sleeping bag he felt too keyed up to be tired, despite his wakeful night. Colt seemed also tensed as a coiled spring as they pulled on their space suits.
"So the Golddust Twins finally get their chance to go for a walk around the block," Smitty kidded them as he helped Kinsman with the zippers and seals of his suit.
"I thought they were gonna keep us after school," Colt said, "for being naughty yesterday,"
"Pierce'll find a way to take you guys down a notch," Jill said. "He's got that kind of mind."
"Democracy in action," said Kinsman, "Reduce every- body to the same low level."
"Hey!" Art Douglas snapped from across the compart- ment where he was helping Colt into his suit. "Your scores weren't that much higher than ours, you know."
"Tell you what," Colt said. "A couple of you guys black your faces and see how you get treated."
They laughed, but there was a nervous undercurrent to it.
Kinsman raised the helmet over his head and slid it down into place. "Still fits okay," he said through the open visor. "Guess my head hasn't swollen too much."
