Fromkin ignored my jibe. "You saw how the convention was progressing. Can you give me a better alternative?"
"Have you tried education?"
"Yes! Do you know how long it takes to teach a politician something? Three elections! We don't have the time! We have to make our point today. "
I must have been frowning, for he said, "You heard those delegates. They were running everything they saw and heard through the filter that the United States was using the Chtorran menace as an excuse to exploit the rest of the world again."
"Well? Isn't that true?"
Fromkin shrugged. "Frankly, it's irrelevant. The war against the Chtorr is going to last anywhere from fifty to three hundred years-if we win. That's our window for a best-case approximation.
"And? What's the worst case?"
"We could all be dead within ten years." He said it dispassionately, but the words came out like bullets. "The situation calls for extraordinary crisis-management skills. It demands the kind of unified effort that this planet has never seen. We need a controlling body that can function free of the usual inertia common to an accountable government."
"You're advocating a dictatorship?"
"Not hardly. I'm advocating universal military service for every man, woman, child, robot, dog and computer on the planet. That's all." He allowed himself a wry smile. "That's hardly a dictatorship, now, is it?"
I didn't answer. He stood up and went to the window and looked out. "The irony of the situation," he said, "is that the only surviving institutions who have the resources to handle the situation are the very ones least able to apply those resources-the world's great technological nations. The conference is dominated by Fourth Worlders who are still in a pre-Chtorran consciousness-you know the one: `They've got theirs, now I'm going to get mine.' And they're not going to let us play any other game while they still see themselves as not being equal partners. And the fact of the matter is, they're already equal partners. The Chtorrans find them just as tasty-they don't care!"
Fromkin turned to face me. He came back to the chair, but didn't sit down. "Jim, every day that passes without a program of unified resistance to the Chtorran invasion pushes the window of possible victory two weeks farther away. We're rapidly approaching the point where the window becomes totally unattainable. We don't have any time. They've taken the position that the United States is their enemy, one who will use any devious means to exploit them. They don't dare give up that position, because giving it up looks exactly like admitting they've been wrong. And that's the hardest thing in the world for a human being to dobe wrong. Do you know that people would rather die than be wrong?"
I saw the Chtorran pouring itself off the stage again. I heard the screams of terror. I smelled the blood. Those people died because they were wrong? I looked into Fromkin's face. His expression was intense. His eyes were hurting.
I knew it wasn't true even as I said it, but I had to say it. "So they're wrong-and you're right?"
Fromkin shook his head. "We did what we had to do, Jim, and the only way to explain it is so unsatisfactory that I don't even want to try."
I thought about it. "Try me anyway," I said.
He looked unhappy about it. "All right, but you won't like it. This is a different game-with different rules, one of the most important of them being `All previous games are no longer valid.' And anyone who keeps trying to play the old game in the middle of the new is in the way. Got that? So we put all of our biggest problems in the front rows. We didn't like it, but it was necessary.
"You're right. I don't like it."
He nodded. "I told you that you wouldn't." He continued, "But, Jim-every single one of those survivors has now experienced the war at close range. It is no longer just another political position. It's a bloody scar on the soul. The people who came out of that auditorium know who their enemy is now. What you saw-what you participated in-was a very necessary piece of shock treatment to the community of world governments."
He sat down again, leaned forward and put his hand on my arm. "We didn't want to do this, Jim. In fact, as of last week, we had decided not to. We were hoping then that the facts alone would be enough to convince the delegates. We were wrong. The facts aren't enough. You demonstrated that when you stood up in front of the entire conference. You demonstrated to us just how completely crystalized the Fourth World position was."
"Oh, sure-that's right," I said. "Blame it on me now!"
Fromkin leaned forward and said intensely, "Jim, shut up and listen. Stop showing off your stupidity. Do you know what you've given us? The lever with which to engineer a massive realignment of political intention. The tapes of the conference have been released to the public channels. The whole world has seen that Chtorran attacking a roomful of their highest leaders. The whole world has seen you bring that Chtorran down. Do you know you're a hero?"
"Oh, shit."
Fromkin nodded, "I agree. You're not the one we would have chosen at all, but you're the one we got, so we just have to make the best of you. Listen, the public is alarmed now-we need that. We didn't have it before. It makes a difference. We're seeing some very powerful people suddenly declaring their intentions to martial every resource necessary to resist the Chtorran invasion."
I leaned back in the bed and folded my arms across my chest. "So the United States wins after all, right?"
Fromkin shook his head. "That's the joke, son. There may not even be a United States when this war is over-even if we win. Whatever is necessary for the human species to defeat the Chtorrans is of such overriding importance that the survival of any nation, as a nation, becomes a minor matter. Every single one of us committed to this war knows that the survival of anything is of secondary importance when weighed against the survival of the species. Period."
He leaned back in his chair again. I didn't say anything. There wasn't anything to say. And then I thought of something. "I can see that's your position. Now, what was the justification for including me? Remember, I was supposed to get killed there too-not be a hero."
Fromkin did not look embarrassed. He said, "That's right. And you weren't supposed to be rescued either. That nurse, Dinnie-she can be a perfect pain in the ass sometimes-she saved your life. She disabled two of our marines when they tried to pull her away."
"They were going to kill me?"
"Uh, not exactly. It just seemed, ah, politic not to rush to your aid. But nobody told her that. When they tried to pull her away, she crippled them. Broke one fellow's kneecap, the other one's collarbone, arm and sternum. She stayed with you the whole time, wouldn't let anybody near you unless she knew them personally."
"And what happened in the operating room?"
Fromkin looked startled. "You know about that too?" I nodded.
"A senior officer suggested that your treatment be ... postponed. She invited him to leave the operating theater. He refused. She gave him a choice. Under his own power or otherwise. If otherwise, she guaranteed he wouldn't like it. She was right. He didn't like it. She's under arrest now-"
"Huh?"
"Protective custody. Until some things get sorted out. I promise you, she'll be all right. But you and I need to have this little chat first."
Something occurred to me then. "Why you and I? Where's Uncle Ira? Shouldn't he and I be having this conversation?" Fromkin hesitated. "I'm sorry. Colonel Wallachstein is dead. He didn't get out of the auditorium in time." There was pain in his face.
"No-!" I cried. "I can't believe that!" I felt like I'd been slammed in the chest with a brick
"He pushed three people out ahead of him," said Fromkin. "I was one of them. He went back for someone else. I waited for him at the door. He never came out."
"I-I don't know what to say. I hardly knew him. I don't know if I liked him-but I respected him."