“Oh, fine. Mr. IOC President, if you please,” Davey said with a slight nod.
Throughout the first, and final, UN session of the Supernova Era, Yagüe in his capacity of secretary general had tried to restore the doomed international organization, but eventually even he came to the realization that his efforts were pointless, and he ended up sitting all by himself in the ruins of the UN Secretariat with nothing to do. The tower was dark and rumored to be haunted. It was said that when the light of the Rose Nebula shone through the collapsed roof of the General Assembly building, Roosevelt seated in his wheelchair would appear on the half-ruined rostrum, with the UN secretaries general taking turns pushing him. If it was moonlight that shone in through the roof, the hall would echo with the sound of slapping, as if Khrushchev’s ghost were rapping his delegate desk, not with a shoe, but with Kennedy’s skull…. These rumors gave Yagüe the creeps, bad enough that he had to resort to liquid courage at night. Just as he reached his breaking point, he received an invitation from the newly re-formed International Olympic Committee, tasked with organizing the war games, and gladly accepted this new position.
Yagüe waved to either side. “Stop eating, everyone, and sit down. Act like you’re in a meeting.”
The leaders took their seats along the table and put on their translation earpieces, although some of them still snitched a krill or two from the helmets in front of them.
“I told you to stop eating! Mr. President, please have someone take all that away!” Yagüe said.
Davey looked sidelong at him. “Mr. Chairman, you need to understand your position here. You’re just the moderator of the games. You have no power to give orders.”
Yagüe stared at him for a few seconds, and then spat to one side. “Fine. Then let’s begin. I’m sure you all know the national leaders present, so there’s no need for introductions. However, also present today are each country’s top military commanders. Shall we have them introduce themselves?”
The young generals took turns. In their tailored officers’ uniforms with gleaming golden stars on their epaulets and colorful ribbons and medals on their lapels, they cut far more impressive figures than the adult generals had and added considerable luster to the venue.
The last to make an introduction was the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff of the United States, General Scott. When he first took office, he had waffled over modeling himself after Eisenhower or Bradley or Patton or MacArthur, and had changed styles daily, to the bafflement of his young staffers. Today he had chosen MacArthur. He had ordered a staffer to prepare him a corncob pipe, but such a thing couldn’t be found in Antarctica. The staffer brought him a big, shiny black briar, sending the general into a rage. Now he didn’t salute as the other generals had done, but waved the pipe at everyone and said, “You twerps, just you wait! I’m gonna beat you so hard you’ll piss your pants.”
His words elicited laughter. “General Scott, we’re intrigued by your pips,” said the chief of general staff of the Russian Armed Forces, Marshal Zavyalova, her tone sarcastic. Scott had seven stars on his shoulder.
“You have reservations about the number of stars? True, the highest rank ever created by the US Army was a six-star general, and that was a posthumous, ceremonial promotion. But I want seven stars on my shoulder. Patton himself could covet decorations, so why can’t I wear one more star? The president hasn’t criticized me, so what are you going to do?”
“I’m just wondering why you’re not wearing eight stars. That would be more symmetrical.”
“No, the layout would be too rigid. I’d prefer nine!”
Lü Gang put in, “Just slap on an American flag, why don’t you?”
Furiously, Scott said, “You’re mocking me, General Lü. I can’t permit this! I won’t!”
“Can you go a single day without getting into a fight?” Davey said.
“He’s mocking me!” Scott said, pointing at Lü Gang.
Davey grabbed the pipe out of Scott’s hand and threw it onto the table. “From now on, no messing around with that wacky crap. Also, take three of the stars off that idiotic shoulder mark. Don’t give the media anything to gossip about.”
Scott’s face reddened as he realized that the day’s choice of style had been a mistake. MacArthur was inappropriate for the president’s presence.
Yagüe rapped the table again with the helmet serving as a gavel. “Okay now, let’s continue. There are two items on the agenda for today’s meeting. First, to set out general principles for the war games, and second, to determine the events. We’ll proceed to the first agenda item. Our proposal for general principles are as follows: To make the games thrilling and fun, the six major military powers taking part, namely the United States, Russia, the European Union (counting as a single country during the war games), China, Japan, and India, as permanent members of the World Games, must abide by the package principle; that is, they must take part in all events. Other countries may selectively participate in the events as they so choose.”
The general principles gained unanimous approval from all countries, and Davey said with delight, “Excellent. A commendable beginning.”
Yagüe rapped the helmet again. “Next we’ll move to the second item, determining the events.”
“I’ll propose one first,” Davey called out. “Carrier battle groups!”
The other children were shocked into silence for a moment, and then Yagüe asked tentatively, “Isn’t that a little too… big? A carrier group? With all the aircraft on the carrier, and the escort of cruisers and destroyers and submarines? It’s too big.”
Davey said, “That’s the point! Don’t kids want to bring out the big guns?”
Huahua stood up. “American kids, maybe. We can’t play that game, though. China doesn’t have an aircraft carrier.”
“Japan doesn’t, either,” said Ōnishi.
Prime Minister Jairu of India said, “We’ve got one, but an old model with traditional propulsion. And we can’t put together a battle group.”
“What you mean is that it’ll be the EU, Russia, and us, and you all watch from the sidelines?” Davey asked.
Yagüe nodded, and added, “That’s not in line with the package principle.”
Huahua shrugged. “That can’t be helped. We can’t fabricate an aircraft carrier.”
“And you all won’t let us make one,” Ōnishi said, and snorted.
Scott pointed at the two of them and said, “The games have only just begun and already you’ve spoiled them!”
Standing up, Lü Gang suggested, “How about this. We use our cruisers and submarines against your carrier groups?”
“No way!” Davey shouted.
“He’s a smart kid,” Lü Gang whispered into Huahua’s ear after sitting down, and Huahua smiled slightly and nodded.
Davey was actually well aware that the adults’ aircraft carriers were an entirely different beast in children’s hands. Child naval aviators had only just learned to fly solo, and their strike rate against ship and ground targets was very low. At the same time, carrier group combat was a highly sophisticated technical process that children could not master in such a short time, so in an actual battle, ships launched from the carrier might be unable to locate their targets. More dismaying to the US Navy was carrier security. Carriers had few defensive capabilities of their own, but relied on the escort in the carrier group for protection. The hardware and software of the Aegis-based carrier defensive system that consolidated the various weapons systems of cruisers, destroyers, and submarines was so complicated it made even the adults’ eyes blur, and there was no way that children could operate it normally. Although the carrier had as usual sailed out surrounded by attending ships, it was actually quite poorly defended, and its ponderous bulk made it an excellent target on the open sea. Lots of weapons were scary to the American children; the Chinese Navy’s C-802 antiship missile (the “Chinese Exocet”), for instance, presented a huge combat threat. It only took a single missile breaking through the Aegis perimeter and striking the carrier to sink it. As the commander of the Pacific Fleet said, “Right now our aircraft carrier is as fragile as an egg floating on the ocean.” A tyrant of the waves in former days, now the best it could do was serve as a transport craft for fighter jets. But it could not be permitted to sink. It was a spiritual support for the American children, a symbol of American power, and so during this event, America’s carriers were off cruising the Pacific, far from shore. Davey had only been bluffing.