Footfall

“It could be quite a while,” Arthur Hart said. “I was thinking that the President might call the Chairman…”

“Moscow already knows,” Admiral Carrell said. His gravelly voice stopped all the extraneous chatter in the mom. “Payel Bondarev is the son-in-law of General Narovchatov. Narovchatov’s been with Chairman Petrovskiy for twenty years.”

Everyone turned to look at the Chief of Staff. Jim Frantz almost never said anything in Cabinet meetings.

“What prompted that, Jim?” Arthur Hart asked.

“I often wonder if any country in the world could operate if communications went only through channels,” Ted Griffin said. “So. The Russians know, and by the time we leave this meeting, the country will know.” He smiled at the startled looks that caused. “Yes, Captain Crichton said this astronomer chap was calling a press conference.”

“So we have to decide what to tell the public.” Hap Aylesworth was short and beefy, perpetually fighting a weight problem. His necktie was always loosened and his collar unbuttoned. He seldom appeared in photographs; when cameras came out, Aylesworth would usually urge someone else forward. As Special Assistant he was the President’s political advisor, but for the past nine years he’d given David Coffey political advice. The Washington Post called him the Kingmaker.

“There may be a more pressing problem,” Admiral Carrell said.

Aylesworth raised a bushy eyebrow.

“The Russians. I don’t know it would be such a good idea for the President to call Chairman Petrovskiy, but I think I’d better get on the horn to General Narovchatov.”

“Why?” Ted Griffin asked.

“Obvious, isn’t it?” Carrell said. He pushed back a gray pinstripe sleeve to glance at his watch. “One of the first things they’ll do once they’re sure of this is start mobilizing. Military, civil defense, you name it. Ted, I’d hate for your military people to get all upset …”

“Are you certain of this?” David Coffey asked.

“Yes, sir,” Admiral Carrell said. “Sure as anything, Mr. President.

“Why would they assume this…” Attorney General McCleve had trouble getting the words out. “… this alien spacecraft is hostile?”

“Because they think everything is hostile,” Carrell said.

“Afraid he’s right, Pete,” Arthur Hart said. The Secretary of State shook his head sadly. “I could wish otherwise, but that’s the way it will be. And they’ll very shortly be demanding an official explanation of why one of our scientists called one of theirs, instead of passing this important news through channels as it ought to be done.”

“That’s crazy,” Peter McCleve said. “Just plain crazy!”

“Possibly,” Secretary Hart said. “But it’s what will happen.”

“To sum up, then,” David Coffey said. “The Soviets will shortly ask us for our official position, and they will begin mobilizing without regard to what that position is.”

Admiral Carrell nodded agreement. “Precisely, Mr. President.”

“Then what should we do?” Hap Aylesworth asked. “We can’t let the Russians mobilize while we do nothing. The country won’t stand for it.”

“I can think of senators who would be delighted,” Coffey said.

“On both sides of the aisle,” Aylesworth said, “Doves who’ll say there’s never been anything to be afraid of, and will move resolutions congratulating you on your steady nerves — and hawks who’ll want to impeach you for selling out the country.”

“Admiral?” David Coffey asked. Admiral Canell was another advisor the President was in awe of. They’d known each other for more than a dozen years, since the day Vice Admiral Carrell had walked into a freshman congressman’s office and explained, patiently and with brutal honesty, how the Navy was wasting money in a shipyard that happened to be one of the major employers in David’s district.

Since that time, Carrell had become Deputy Director of the National Security Agency, then Director of the CIA. David Coffey’s first officially announced appointment was Dr. Arthur Hart to be Secretary of State, but he’d decided on Thorwald Carrell as National Security Advisor before his own nomination, and the announcement came the day after Hart’s appointment.

“I think a partial mobilization,” Admiral Carrell said. “We’ll need a declaration of national emergency.”

“This is senseless.” Commerce Secretary Connie Fuller had a surprisingly low voice for such a small lady. “If we believe this is really an alien ship — and I think we must — then this is the greatest day in human history! We’re sitting here talking about war and mobilization when … when everything is going to be different!”

“I agree,” Arthur Hart said. “But the Soviets will begin mobilization.”

“Let them,” Fuller said. Her brown eyes flashed. “Let them mobilize and be damned. At least one of the superpowers will behave like … like responsible and intelligent beings! Do we want these aliens? Mr. President, think of the power they have! To have come from another star! We want to welcome them, not appear hostile.”