“But they were brilliant, so we put them to work in areas where their brilliance would be most effective. That new alloy that your scientists are so fascinated with was developed by our hominems. They were also responsible for most of the breakthroughs that led to the final design and construction of the vehicle which houses the strontium warhead.”
Kyril smiled coldly. “They thought that what they were building was the ultimate ideological housecleaning tool. They never knew that they were creating the means of their own species’ destruction. Naturally, we stationed them in locations known to your intelligence people during the attack. American missiles solved the problem for us.
“We were amazed at how many of you there proved to be after the plague eliminated all extraneous humans. Our studies suggested nothing like the figures that McDivott’s group extrapolated, which seem to have been borne out by experience. But no matter; isolated hominems around the world are not a problem: Even if a few somehow manage to get under cover in time to avoid fatal overdoses at the outset, strontium-90 fallout is patient. It takes planning and preparation to survive two centuries underground; only we and McDivott’s people are ready.
“We knew that he and his organization would come through the attack and plague intact — I was amused to learn that he hadn’t known he was a hominem himself. So we leaked enough details about the strontium bomb’s existence, and what it would take to stop it, to guarantee that he would have no choice but to try to launch a shuttle. We knew that he would have to gather every single member of his group there to accomplish it.
“I was planted on them both to keep an eye on their progress as well as to make myself an indispensable part of the mission. I was quite taken aback, upon being admitted into their organization, to learn that they had acquired far more information through their own efforts than we had leaked. Which meant that I had to watch my step; I had no idea how much they might know in addition. So I played absolutely straight, relying upon being able to stop the mission at the very last moment, as I have done.
“Now, there were only three facilities in the entire world equipped to launch an expedition of this type. The one in Russia, of course, is gone; that left the two in America. I anticipated that they would use the Vandenberg facility; being a military base, it is more completely, independently equipped than Cape Canaveral. And I was right. But it made no difference: In either case the outcome would have been the same.
“You see, the Murray Fracture Zone is not the target. It never has been. The warhead is less powerful than McDivott was given to think; but even so, if it exploded there, the resultant quakes would reduce much of the Earth’s crust to rubble. That would be too sweeping a remedy even for us — though it would have been a satisfying revenge, had that really been our intention. No; we would not destroy the Earth’s surface; we need it for ourselves.
“The bomb is targeted to impact about 25 miles due west of Point Arguello. The crust is thicker there. The explosion will generate earthquakes, massive ones; but it won’t ruin the planet, not permanently anyway — at least not our part. We’ll ride it out; our shelters are constructed of the new alloy — yards thick.
“However, Vandenberg lies inside the fireball, within the radius of total destruction. McDivott’s group will still be there, to the last man. They will be eliminated at a single stroke; they literally will never know what hit them.
“There never has been a cancellation signal, by the way; only a retargeting signal, in case it might have been necessary to shift impact to, say 25 miles out in the Gulf Stream, just off Kennedy. That was false information, deliberately leaked to confuse the issue. The bomb cannot be stopped other than by physically boarding and disarming it. Preventing that from happening was my mission. It was not difficult.
“Now, I am sure that you must hate me at this moment more than you have ever hated anyone in your life, and I don’t blame you. But I want you to know that meeting you has been one of the greatest privileges of my life. I wish that you were human. Even though you are not, I salute you.”
And, so help me, actually did salute.
But Kyril wrong: Didn’t hate him. Didn’t hate anybody — didn’t have time for peripheral distractions. (Maybe would hate him later.) But for now, had job to do: suddenly expanded, desperately important job — this changed everything…!
Disarming bomb no longer adequate solution. Still necessary, yes — vitally! But Khraniteli would just try again, using different approach; probably succeed next time around — hominems didn’t even know threat existed; would get no warning!
Simply had to warn my people! — that was mission’s primary goal now! Disarming bomb, then dying nobly, exercise in futility unless got word back in process.
Had no choice. Simply must. And would.
Somehow.
But Kyril between me and next step — whatever might prove to be. Had to do something about that. First. Immediately.
Debate over options took only seconds; limited, as practical matter, to single course of action. Hoped acting skills up to challenge.
Responded to Kyril’s explanation, salute, with total flood: surely most abjectly pitiable performance since Bambi calling for Mother in forest fire. Covered face in hands (peeked between fingers, gauging effect), curled into fetal position. Sobbed as if world coming to end — which, unless managed to do something about it, pretty well summed things up!
(Now, awfully fond of Kyril — before — and Russian well aware of feelings. Likewise, as top-level Khranitel operative, held probably justifiably high opinion of own physical prowess. Unlikely to fear assault from 11-year-old. Plus was awfully fond of me, too. Finally, was very well educated; certain to have read same child-psychology theories I did: knew abusee usually turns to abuser for comfort once attack over. [Irrational? I’ll say. Own approach would be to wait until adult asleep, take baseball bat — stop; getting sidetracked.] Point is that dependent child normally turns to nearest adult of whom is fond for comfort regardless what atrocities said adult may have just committed.)
Looked up through tears, held out arms, wailed, “Oh, Kyril…!”
He bought it: Expression softened; propelled himself across cabin, catching me gently in passing.
Redoubled weeping, threw arms around neck, buried face in shoulder. He sighed unhappily, put arms around me, held close, patted clumsily on back, murmured soothing noises. Didn’t notice legs closing around waist until too late. If at all.
Snuffled, bubbled, then wiped eyes with right hand; which brought forearm across beneath Russian’s chin, left still around neck.
Whispered hysterical-strength tap trigger, closed trap in single motion: Legs tightened about torso, ankles locked. Left hand seized back of head, left side; right hand closed on chin, right side of face; both in unbreakable grip. Kyril barely had time to register surprise before I…
…TWISTED!
Don’t know how might have made out against Russian in fair fight — particularly in free-fall. As top Khranitel agent, probably one of very best. But will never know: Hysterical strength rotated head beyond vertebrae’s yield limit in briefest fraction of second. If live to be 100, will never forget that noise.