to earth.
“Make some more coffee, McCaughlin. And eggs and grits. I’d like to get to know Major Scheransky before we head north with the man.”
The parachuter hit the center of a field a hundred yards to the left of the radio station. He was helped out of his harness by Detroit who reached him first, as he seemed to be having a hard time. And no wonder—for the man, a ruddy-faced fellow of about twenty-five, was roly-poly like a big lump of jello. Rock frowned. Is this the man they would take into a frozen hell after a madman like Killov? And where was this goddamn tracking device? Then he heard the plane returning, and he watched as a second chute billowed out.
Scheransky gasped out in near perfect English, “Thanks, comrades! Here comes the antimatter meter.” He pointed to the sky.
“I suppose that’s the missile tracker?” Rock asked.
“Yes. It’s forty kilograms. I didn’t want to jump with it. Actually I’ve never jumped before. It’s exhilarating.”
“Never jumped before? Are you in the Soviet Army?” Detroit asked. “Aren’t you a major?—your insignia says so . . .”
The man flushed. “Well, I work in the lab. I’m a sort of lab major. Never had any combat experience. You know—got most of these medals here for inventions of a technical nature.”
Rock said, “I see. Well, you’ll have to experience a little pain on this trip. I hope you have a strong heart because you’ll probably lose a few pounds. Quite a few . . .”
The device floated down and settled perfectly on a thick pile of weeds. “It looks like a tripod-mounted submachine gun,” said McCaughlin.
“But it isn’t,” said the major. “See? The barrel is solid—uses measuring scopes. I’ll have a trace on the radiation of Killov’s missiles once you get me to the point they were stolen from—and I can do some initial distance readings.”
“Well, man, let’s get some breakfast in you and get going,” said McCaughlin. “You ever eat wild boar ham and eggs with grits back in Leningrad, pal?”
Over breakfast Rockson introduced the men to the Red scientist. He addressed the men: “You probably like bringing the major along as little as I do. Russia and the U.S. are enemies and there will be no truce until they are out of America. If this wasn’t a necessary joint mission we’d be blasting away at each other. But it is a joint mission and I’m sure neither the Premier nor I will go back on our word, at least I won’t. And that means you won’t. Understand—this man is to be protected with your lives!”
“Yes, sir,” they answered. But they all eyed Scheransky with suspicion.
Scheransky smiled at them all. “You do as promised—so do I. We find the missiles and deactivate them, send for a team to dismantle them and ship them back to Russia as you rebels agreed. These weapons must be disarmed properly. We can’t blow them up; they’re antimatter bombs. They explode if strongly impacted. You are familiar, I suppose,” he continued, “with the Hiroshima bomb? The one that America dropped on Japan to begin the nuclear terror that still stalks the world?”
“Yeah,” Detroit frowned. “We dropped it. It ended World War II, buddy. But we didn’t start World War II. Or World War III.”
Scheransky’s face turned red. He said, “Well, there are many kilograms of antimatter explosive in the missile warhead. Each kilogram of antimatter is ten times more powerful than the Hiroshima bomb. They may well be the most devastating weapons mankind has ever produced. Perhaps this blackie can’t understand this, but you can.”
Detroit started forward, rage in his eyes. Rockson grabbed the black Freefighter’s sleeve and said, “Ease off, man. I want Major Scheransky here to tell us all exactly what the destructive potential of these bombs is. You say one kilogram is like ten Hiroshima bombs, Scheransky? So how many kilograms of antimatter are in each warhead that Killov possesses?”
“That is a
“Make some more coffee, McCaughlin. And eggs and grits. I’d like to get to know Major Scheransky before we head north with the man.”
The parachuter hit the center of a field a hundred yards to the left of the radio station. He was helped out of his harness by Detroit who reached him first, as he seemed to be having a hard time. And no wonder—for the man, a ruddy-faced fellow of about twenty-five, was roly-poly like a big lump of jello. Rock frowned. Is this the man they would take into a frozen hell after a madman like Killov? And where was this goddamn tracking device? Then he heard the plane returning, and he watched as a second chute billowed out.
Scheransky gasped out in near perfect English, “Thanks, comrades! Here comes the antimatter meter.” He pointed to the sky.
“I suppose that’s the missile tracker?” Rock asked.
“Yes. It’s forty kilograms. I didn’t want to jump with it. Actually I’ve never jumped before. It’s exhilarating.”
“Never jumped before? Are you in the Soviet Army?” Detroit asked. “Aren’t you a major?—your insignia says so . . .”
The man flushed. “Well, I work in the lab. I’m a sort of lab major. Never had any combat experience. You know—got most of these medals here for inventions of a technical nature.”
Rock said, “I see. Well, you’ll have to experience a little pain on this trip. I hope you have a strong heart because you’ll probably lose a few pounds. Quite a few . . .”
The device floated down and settled perfectly on a thick pile of weeds. “It looks like a tripod-mounted submachine gun,” said McCaughlin.
“But it isn’t,” said the major. “See? The barrel is solid—uses measuring scopes. I’ll have a trace on the radiation of Killov’s missiles once you get me to the point they were stolen from—and I can do some initial distance readings.”
“Well, man, let’s get some breakfast in you and get going,” said McCaughlin. “You ever eat wild boar ham and eggs with grits back in Leningrad, pal?”
Over breakfast Rockson introduced the men to the Red scientist. He addressed the men: “You probably like bringing the major along as little as I do. Russia and the U.S. are enemies and there will be no truce until they are out of America. If this wasn’t a necessary joint mission we’d be blasting away at each other. But it is a joint mission and I’m sure neither the Premier nor I will go back on our word, at least I won’t. And that means you won’t. Understand—this man is to be protected with your lives!”
“Yes, sir,” they answered. But they all eyed Scheransky with suspicion.
Scheransky smiled at them all. “You do as promised—so do I. We find the missiles and deactivate them, send for a team to dismantle them and ship them back to Russia as you rebels agreed. These weapons must be disarmed properly. We can’t blow them up; they’re antimatter bombs. They explode if strongly impacted. You are familiar, I suppose,” he continued, “with the Hiroshima bomb? The one that America dropped on Japan to begin the nuclear terror that still stalks the world?”
“Yeah,” Detroit frowned. “We dropped it. It ended World War II, buddy. But we didn’t start World War II. Or World War III.”
Scheransky’s face turned red. He said, “Well, there are many kilograms of antimatter explosive in the missile warhead. Each kilogram of antimatter is ten times more powerful than the Hiroshima bomb. They may well be the most devastating weapons mankind has ever produced. Perhaps this blackie can’t understand this, but you can.”
Detroit started forward, rage in his eyes. Rockson grabbed the black Freefighter’s sleeve and said, “Ease off, man. I want Major Scheransky here to tell us all exactly what the destructive potential of these bombs is. You say one kilogram is like ten Hiroshima bombs, Scheransky? So how many kilograms of antimatter are in each warhead that Killov possesses?”
“That is a
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